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Chapter Text

“Let's just say I have the ability to restore Wei Wuxian to his prime.”

“What?” Cangse Sanren asked in utter confusion and shock.

“What do you mean, Grandmaster?” Wei Changze demanded, stepping protectively in front of his wife. The concept of core transfer was unimaginable—until recently. When Wen Qing presented her theory, the impossible suddenly seemed within reach.

Baoshan Sanren’s claim to restore their son to his prime left them teetering on the edge of hope and disbelief. What method would she employ? Another operation, perhaps? If so, where would she acquire a core? Their son’s core had been transferred to Jiang Wanyin. Or did she have another, inconceivable method? These possibilities went on raving in Wei Changze’s mind like a storm. Desperation clawed at him and his wife, driving their need to understand the immortal’s enigmatic plan.

“If you need a core, you can take mine—”

“A-Ze!” Cangse Sanren exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief and a trace of admiration. The realization that her husband was willing to sacrifice his own core left her momentarily stunned. She had entertained the same thought, but hearing him say it first was a shock.

“That’s not necessary, Wei Changze,” Baoshan Sanren interjected with a voice that carried both authority and a touch of weariness. “Your selflessness is commendable, but unnecessary. I understand the depth of your love and the lengths you would go to for your son. Such devotion is rare and admirable. Yet, I must decline your offer. I have encountered enough self-sacrificial acts in my time, and I’d rather avoid adding another to that list.”

Wei Changze lowered his gaze and clenched his fists.

Her gaze then softened as she continued, “There are other ways—ways that do not require such a personal sacrifice. Trust in the process I have devised.”

Baoshan Sanren’s tone conveyed not only her appreciation for Wei Changze’s offer but also her firm resolve to find a path forward that would not exact such a grave price.

“T-Then, can you share to us on what you will do?” Sizhui, with a mix of anxiety and shyness, inquired of the immortal. If the immortal possessed the ability to restore his senior Wei, to his prime, Sizhui earnestly desired it. He longed to witness the most formidable version of his Senior Wei.

“Sanren-Dàshī, could you please enlighten us?” Jingyi implored, his eyes brimming with hope and anticipation. Beside him, Zizhen, Jin Ling, and the other cultivators nodded in agreement, their curiosity piqued about the actions the immortals would take.

Lan Wangji gazed down at his unconscious husband, his expression a mix of love and turmoil. He knew Wei Ying would be less than pleased to wake up and find another core within him. Yet, in the depths of his heart, Lan Wangji couldn’t help but yearn for Wei Ying to be restored to his former glory. At the same time, he cherished the man Wei Ying had become, with all the trials and tribulations that had shaped him today. However, to say he was conflicted would be an understatement.

Wei Ying’s parents, driven by desperation and an unyielding love for their son, would undoubtedly embrace Baoshan Sanren’s plan, no matter what it was, all in the hope of Wei Ying’s recovery. Lan Wangji understood their feelings all too well. His own heart mirrored their desperation, yet it also harbored a fervent hope that the solution would not require a sacrificial exchange. The thought of sacrifice hung heavy in his mind. If it came to that, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would step forward. For Wei Ying’s sake, he would volunteer without hesitation. The prospect of such a sacrifice was daunting, but his love for Wei Ying was boundless, transcending even his own fears and desires.

“Alright, I’ll explain,” Baoshan Sanren began, the talisman hovering above her palm glowing with an intensified radiance that caused the cultivators to shield their eyes. “To avoid sacrificing someone’s core, I thought of an alternative. Rather than taking another’s core, why not attempt to replicate Wei Wuxian’s younger self’s core?”

The cultivators froze, their minds reeling. Could such a powerful talisman truly mimic a golden core?

“But golden cores dissipate the moment you extract them from their owner's body,” Nie Huaisang countered, his voice tinged with skepticism. Baoshan Sanren turned her gaze to him, studying him intently before responding.

“Precisely, that is the primary challenge. Extracting a core is as arduous as extracting half of a person’s soul. To prevent the core from dissipating, it must be sealed,” Baoshan Sanren explained, allowing the weight of her words to settle in the charged air. “The talisman I have created makes this possible. By sealing it, the energy and the core itself remain intact.”

Nie Huaisang furrowed his brow. “Even if sealing prevents dissipation, I’m certain a core can only be sealed while still within a person’s body,” he argued. Though he's not the most skilled cultivator, his studies of golden cores had been thorough.

Wen Qing then interjected, “That was my initial thought as well. But according to her, a core can indeed be sealed, whether inside or outside the body.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes widened in shock. “But that’s just impossible,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. Could it be that the Immortal had achieved this, and that her confidence in her plan was well-founded? “And pardon me for speaking, but attempting to replicate a golden core necessitates the presence of a physical body with an existing core to serve as the model. Wei Wuxian had his core before the fall of Lotus Pier, thus suggesting that one could imitate the core from his younger self is somewhat preposterous.”

Baoshan Sanren met his gaze steadily. “Your doubts are understandable, Lan Qiren. The challenge lies in capturing the essence of a core that once was, and preserving its energy in a state of flux. My talisman does not merely seal; it maintains the resonance of the original core.”

The cultivators, initially filled with skepticism, began to sense the possibilities within her plan. Wen Qing, who witnessed what happened earlier, stayed silent. She really wants to believe that Baoshan Sanren will succeed.

“Sealing a core outside the body defies conventional wisdom,” Baoshan Sanren continued. “Yet, it is through such defiance that innovation arises. There’s also a talisman I have crafted which was designed to temporarily confine a core in a containment space to seal it and return it to its rightful owner.”

The room fell silent.

Baoshan Sanren had accomplished numerous extraordinary feats throughout her life as a cultivator. While her achievements might no longer surprise those familiar with her prowess, her ingenuity remained nothing short of astonishing. She crafted innovative talismans and expanded her understanding of cultivation through relentless exploration, embracing both conventional and unconventional, orthodox and unorthodox methods.

Her innovative spirit and profound wisdom set her apart as a truly remarkable cultivator, much like Wei Wuxian. Both possessed an insatiable curiosity and a fearless approach to breaking boundaries, redefining the limits of their art.

“Damn,” Jin Ling murmured in awe. Encountering such a powerful cultivator and hearing her explain her achievements inspired him to strive to become a better cultivator himself.

On the other hand, Jiang Wanyin was deeply conflicted. If he had encountered her, would the core transfer have been avoided? Would she be able to do what she said earlier? His mind swirled with a maelstrom of questions, and a surge of anger towards Baoshan Sanren welled up within him for not appearing on that mountain. Yet, who was he to harbor such resentment? The location of the celestial mountain had been shrouded in uncertainty, and holding her accountable for not appearing in the past and revealing her plans now seemed unjust.

He’s conflicted; he’s guilty of having taken Wei Wuxian's core for granted and the dawning acceptance of it as his own. Jiang Wanyin's thoughts were a tangled web. He couldn't deny the power it gave him and the strength it had restored. But at what cost? The price had been too high, and the sacrifice bore heavily upon him. The core was his now, a part of him. He would honor it, not just as a gift from his brother but as a responsibility to carry forward. This was his path now, entwined with the legacy of Wei Wuxian, and he would walk it with the strength and resolve that core had given him.

Yet, even in acceptance, the bitterness lingered. A part of him would always yearn for what could have been, for the solutions that seemed just out of reach.

Right now, Baoshan Sanren’s declaration of restoring Wei Wuxian to his prime ignited a surge of hope within Jiang Wanyin. The thought of his brother returning even stronger than before filled him with a stirring excitement. Yet, amidst this hope, he couldn’t ignore the reality of the core now residing within him—the essence of Wei Wuxian himself. As he touched the spot where the core lay, he felt a tightening in his jaw.

‘Fuck,’ he thought bitterly, everything felt like chaos. Just what is he supposed to feel right now?

“Thanks to Wei Wuxian's time-travel talisman,” Baoshan Sanren revealed, her voice carrying a hint of marvel, "Wen Qing and I were transported back to the archery competition.”

Jiang Fengmian's curiosity sparked. “So, you encountered Wei Wuxian from the past?” he inquired, to which Baoshan Sanren nodded. She glanced at Wen Qing, who confirmed the account with a silent nod of her own.

“And that’s okay?!” Zizhen blurted out anxiously. His understanding of time travel, albeit limited, cautioned against interference between different eras. The implications of altering the past could ripple through time, impacting the future in unforeseen ways.

“Yes, it was okay. We didn’t really do anything other than talk to Wei Wuxian’s younger self,” Wen Qing responded instead. “Or more like Baoshan Sanren talk to him a bit.”

“That’s crazy,” Jin Zixuan muttered, his eyebrows shooting up in bewilderment.

“The other crazy thing in here is y’all being here,” Mianmian quipped, casting a wry glance at Jin Zixuan. She’s referring to everyone who was brought back in this timeline.

“Essentially, you and Wen Qing travelled back to the past, encountered Wei Wuxian, replicated his core, and returned to present this to us,” Lan Xichen remarked with a thoughtful furrow in his brow.

“Indeed, that sums it up,” Baoshan Sanren confirmed with a nod, her demeanor composed.

“But there’s still a question I have in mind,” Nie Huaisang said and Baoshan Sanren turned to him.

“What is it?” she asked.

"Considering the potential fusion of past Wei Wuxian's core and Mo Xuanyu’s core, what are the risks?" Nie Huaisang inquired with measured concern.

“Well, to answer your question, Sect Leader Nie, the outcome hinges on several critical factors,” Baoshan Sanren began, turning her back towards the cultivators. Then, above them, a projected image materialized, illustrating a demonstration of the forthcoming events.

“Firstly, the compatibility of the two cores would be crucial. Wei Wuxian's original core would need to harmonize with Mo Xuanyu's core. The fusion process would ideally blend their energies seamlessly, potentially enhancing Wei Wuxian's spiritual power. However, integrating Mo Xuanyu's weaker core with Wei Wuxian’s original core presents significant complexities. The disparity in their strengths poses a fundamental challenge to their seamless fusion. Additionally, Mo Xuanyu's core has been exposed to resentful energy, which could compromise the purity of Prime Wei Wuxian's core. This contamination threatens to disrupt the delicate balance required for the fusion process to succeed harmoniously. If the fusion fails, there will be a clash between these two cores, which may lead to a Qi deviation.”

“Q-Qi deviation?” Cangse Sanren whispered, her voice barely audible as shock-etched lines of concern etched on her face. She instinctively took a step back, her hand rising to cover her mouth in disbelief.

Qi deviation is dangerous because it disrupts the body's spiritual balance, leading to erratic and potentially harmful manifestations of spiritual energy. Left unchecked, it can cause physical illness, mental instability, permanent damage to the practitioner's spiritual cultivation, and even death.

“But didn’t Wei Wuxian absorb considerable amounts of resentful energy in Biling Lake and in Gusu?” Madam Jin reminded them.

“Hmm, I do recall that incident,” Lan Xichen murmured, thoughtfully placing his hand on his chin. “But it was an unconscious act, wasn’t it?”

“Correct,” Jiang Wanyin affirmed with a nod. “He did not intend for it to happen.”

“Indeed, Wei Wuxian absorbed significant amounts of resentful energy in those moments, but it pales in comparison to the magnitude of what Mo Xuanyu did,” Baoshan Sanren explained. “Mo Xuanyu harnessed resentful energy and executed an immensely powerful and dark ritual, one of Wei Wuxian’s most dangerous innovations, to summon him back. The scale of the energy Mo Xuanyu wielded to perform the sacrificial ritual was unparalleled to what Wei Wuxian absorbed.”

“That makes sense,” Mianmian muttered, the realization dawning on her. 

“So, Mo Xuanyu's core being exposed to such intense resentful energy,” Xiao Xingchen’s expression mirrored the gravity of the situation, concern furrowing his brow as he continued, “could seriously jeopardize the fusion and Wei Wuxian's life,” he voiced, his worry evident.

Just hearing the word death made Lan Wangji tighten his embrace around his husband. No, his husband can’t die. He can’t! He just got him back. He...

“Not only did Mo Xuanyu perform a powerful ritual, but after Senior Wei returned, he continuously used resentful energy in battles,” Sizhui remarked, his expression troubled as he recalled their experiences in Yi City. “I also remember he performed the summoning of painted eyes.”

“Oh, I remember that,” Zizhen chimed in, his eyes lighting up. “It was so impressive!”

Jiang Yanli, her anxiety evident, voiced the question that echoed in all their minds. "What should we do?" Her hands clasped together in a gesture of deep concern for her beloved younger brother.

“We must purify Mo Xuanyu’s core to eliminate the taint of resentful energy before attempting the fusion,” Baoshan Sanren explained. “This approach will reduce the risk of contamination and help achieve the necessary spiritual purity for a successful fusion.”

“Are there any risks involved in purifying the resentful energy?” Wei Changze inquired.

“Yes,” Baoshan Sanren affirmed. “While the removal of resentful energy could potentially destabilize Wei Wuxian's cultivation base due to his partial reliance on it, such an outcome is improbable. Wei Wuxian has already achieved mastery over resentful energy; should he lose some of his cultivation power, he possesses the capability to relearn and reestablish it. The responsibility lies with him to maintain a balance between resentful and spiritual energies.”

“God, there’s so much risks present here,” Jin Zixuan whispered.

“Moreover, we must rely on Wei Wuxian's willingness to accept the core. If he can accept it, then all we can do is wait and see if the fusion succeeds. That's why I seek your permission as well, because this operation carries substantial risk,” Baoshan Sanren cautioned, her gaze earnestly fixed on Cangse Sanren, Wei Changze, and Lan Wangji.

“What are the chances of success for this operation?” Cangse Sanren inquired, her voice tinged with concern.

Baoshan Sanren paused thoughtfully before responding. "Well," she began slowly, choosing her words with care. "The outcome is uncertain. While the talisman I've crafted offers a promising framework, the ultimate efficacy depends on Wei Wuxian's acceptance and the delicate orchestration of the fusion process."

Cangse Sanren exchanged a glance with Wei Changze, silently grappling with the weight of their decision. Lan Wangji's stoic expression betrayed the turmoil within as he considered the potential consequences for Wei Wuxian.

Baoshan Sanren addressed the group with a composed demeanor, “We can proceed with the operation once the next memory concludes, so I am giving you ample time to reflect on your decision.” As she spoke, the talisman in her hand vanished into thin air, along with the projected image. She continued, her tone growing somber, “The next memory will be far worse than those you have seen thus far. You will witness a great deal of suffering, so brace yourselves. All of you, except for Wei Wuxian, will experience it first-hand. You will come to understand the trials Wei Wuxian endured before he was branded the enemy of the cultivation world.”

Madam Lan, her voice barely above a whisper, trembled as she asked, “There's still more?”

Nie Mingjue, pondering aloud, questioned, “What could be worse than the core transfer?” His words echoed the unspoken fears of Jiang Wanyin and Lan Wangji, whose thoughts immediately converged on a single, dreaded term...

‘The Burial Mounds.’

For three agonizing months, Wei Wuxian had endured unspeakable horrors in that forsaken place. Though he never divulged the full extent of his experiences during those months, the mere fact of his survival spoke volumes. Lan Wangji understood that ‘bad’ was a woefully inadequate term to describe the ordeal. A more fitting description would be a waking nightmare.

The Burial Mounds were notorious, a place where no one had ever emerged alive. Crossing its borders was tantamount to courting death, yet Wei Wuxian had not only stepped into this realm of despair and horror but had also managed to endure its dark energies, sought to break the mind and spirit. This feat alone shows his unyielding resolve. However, his survival was not merely a reflection of his strength; it was also a grim testament to the relentless trials and suffering he had faced.

In the past, and until now, Lan Wangji often found himself haunted by the silent agony etched into Wei Wuxian's eyes, the haunted look of someone who had glimpsed the abyss and emerged, irrevocably changed. It made him scared, not to him, but for him, but from now on, he’ll always be there for him, to be his resting place, his solace, his home.

The cultivators then braced themselves for the revelation, a sense of foreboding settled over them, knowing that what they were about to witness would irrevocably alter their perception of Wei Wuxian's past and the burdens he carried.

“The memory will continue now.”

A scenery of a mountain appeared, and below them were Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin, staring up as if they were searching for something hidden within the mist-covered peaks.

“Is this really where Baoshan Sanren lives?” Jiang Wanyin asked, staring up at a steep path.

A lot of cultivators frowned. Based on the environment and wildlife there, it looked like they were somewhere near Yiling. Wei Wuxian obviously led Jiang Wanyin to a desolate mountain. And Baoshan Sanren and Cangse Sanren’s expression confirmed that Wei Wuxian had indeed deceived Jiang Wanyin.

Well, both were desperate for solutions, so caring about lying to the other seemed insignificant compared to the urgency of finding a remedy for their dire situation.

From behind Jiang Wanyin, Wei Wuxian began to laugh in a reassuring manner and replied, “This is certainly her dwelling place. Why do you continue to doubt me?”

‘Because we are aware of the truth, Senior Wei,’ Sizhui thought, maintaining a sad smile.

“Why would I deceive you? To have you experience fleeting happiness only to face a greater disappointment later? That’s not my intention,” Wei Wuxian said decisively. “Come here, and allow me to cover your eyes.”

“Cover your eyes?” Jiang Fengmian inquired with a raised eyebrow. “Why is it necessary to cover his eyes?”

“Well,” Jiang Wanyin began. “You’ll find out soon, A-Die.”

Yu Ziyuan, who had been silent, responded with a nonchalant hum.

Jiang Wanyin turned to allow Wei Wuxian to bind a cloth around his head, obscuring his vision. Wei Wuxian then handed him a walking stick.

“Proceed slowly,” he instructed. “There are no beasts in this area, so you should be safe. Remember, you must not remove the blindfold, even if you stumble. It is essential to follow this rule strictly. We must not displease the grandmaster or the other seniors. Adhere to their instructions without exception, alright?”

Wei Wuxian spoke with such conviction that anyone would believe he possessed genuine knowledge about the immortal and the dangers of the mountain. Those who wanted to know more about the immortal and her celestial mountain would really seek Wei Wuxian's counsel, perhaps even offering compensation for his insights. This situation is made all the more sad considering that Wei Wuxian must go to great lengths to keep his true intentions hidden from Jiang Wanyin, even if it necessitates deceit.

Clearing his throat, Wei Wuxian concluded, “And don’t forget the most important part. If you’re asked who you are, you have to say that you’re the son of Cangse Sanren. You can’t reveal your true identity.”

“Okay!”

Yu Ziyuan flinched slightly, momentarily enraged by the prospect of her son claiming Cangse Sanren as his mother. She glanced at Cangse Sanren, who appeared indifferent to Jiang Cheng’s assertion of being her child, her focus remaining solely on Wei Wuxian. Yu Ziyuan then turned her attention to the unconscious Wei Wuxian, resting comfortably in Lan Wangji’s arms. After a moment of contemplation, her anger subsided.

If Jiang Cheng were to assert himself as Wei Wuxian, it would mean that Wei Wuxian would be unable to seek any future assistance from Baoshan Sanren, who would likely doubt his true identity.

Wei Wuxian had sacrificed his only opportunity for a miracle on behalf of her son.

“Foolish, foolish boy,” she murmured, her voice betraying a tone of gratitude despite her frustration.

Wei Wuxian reached forward, then hesitated, his hand hovering just above Jiang Cheng. After a moment’s pause, he forced himself to move again, squeezing his brother’s shoulder and giving him a little push up the trail.

“Go ahead. You’ll need to finish the journey on your own. I’ll wait for you at the foot of the mountain.”

Jiang Wanyin nodded once, then began walking up the path.

While the majority of observers were focused on Jiang Wanyin, Lan Wangji's attention was directed at Wei Wuxian's changing expressions. As Jiang Wanyin ascended further up the mountain, Wei Wuxian's face exhibited a whirlwind of emotions, each fleeting and difficult to discern.

This was it. Everything was going downhill at this very moment.

A sudden flash forward revealed a desolate peak, shrouded in the veil of dusk, a lone figure stood silhouetted against the fading light. Clad in black from head to toe, with only the hint of a straw hat adorning her head. A black cloth draped over her face concealed her identity, veiling her features in shadow as she surveyed the scenery with a watchful gaze. Her gaze then fixed on Jiang Wanyin, who was walking in a seemingly aimless manner.

Then, he heard chimes of a bell. He immediately stopped and looked around, and when the chimes stopped, a tip of a sword was pointed to his chest.

Wen Qing, her face obscured by a black veil, responded with a firm tone, “Stop. Who are you? Why have you come to this mountain?”

Wen Qing’s current self was gripped by tension, her fists clenched tightly. Is she going to be relive this moment, haunted by the tormenting screams she had heard before? The thought was unbearable; she does not want any of this!

Jiang Wanyin, taken aback by the presence of someone—specifically, the immortal—on the mountain, quickly identified himself. “I am Wei Ying, son of Cangse Sanren.”

“Cangse Sanren?” Wen Qing echoed, seeking clarification.

“Yes,” Jiang Wanyin confirmed.

Wen Qing then inquired, “What is the son of Cangse Sanren doing on this mountain?”

Jiang Wanyin, bowing his head in a gesture of both respect and urgency, explained, “My sect was met with tragedy, cruelly annihilated. With my golden core destroyed, I am powerless to avenge them. I beg shizun* to help restore my golden core!”

If the cultivators were Jiang Wanyin, they would really be convinced that he’s speaking with the immortal right now.

“Good acting, Wen-guniang,” Nie Huaisang remarked, drawing an immediate, sharp glare from Wen Qing.

“What sect are you from?” Wen Qing inquired. “What caused the demise of your sect? Was Cangse Sanren part of that sect as well?”

Jiang Wanyin responded meticulously, choosing his words with great care to avoid any mistake. However, as he was in the midst of answering her questions, he detected a faint aroma in the air and then abruptly lost consciousness.

The memory quikly shifted, presenting an image of Jiang Wanyin unconscious in Wen Ning’s arms, with Wen Qing observing him intently.

Wen Ning looked up at his sister with evident concern and asked, “Jie, will he wake up?”

Seeing Jiang Wanyin lying unconscious in Wen Ning’s arms made Jiang Yanli anxious. She was about to witness the operation unfold in real-time. Although she was confident in the operation’s eventual success, it did not alleviate her worry about the process itself, which was bound to be fraught with potential complications.

Wen Qing’s response was subdued and somber. “He won’t,” she said softly, removing her hat to reveal a face marked by a profound solemnity. She then turned her gaze toward a nearby tree and commanded, “Come out.”

Wei Wuxian then came out of his hiding spot, walking towards Wen Qing, multiple emotions flashing in his face.

Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze’s hearts shattered as they observed the shifting emotions on their son’s face. It was distressing to witness the transition from the once-playful and mischievous glint in his eyes to one of loss and resignation. Their son’s unwavering loyalty and sense of duty, while undeniably both a source of great strength and an inherent weakness, elicited a mixture of heartache and pride. Despite the relentless pain of seeing him endure such suffering, they felt an overwhelming sense of pride. Their son stood apart from others; he was not merely unique, but embodyingly strong and resolute.

They just hoped that everything will be okay, that the operation would be successful.

Conversely, he felt an overwhelming sense of loss and sorrow. The core represented a critical part of his identity and power. The sacrifice signified not only the loss of his strength but also a part of himself. He's also experiencing a mix of regret and acceptance. Regret the circumstances that led to this extreme measure and the potential repercussions for his future. Acceptance came from recognizing the inevitability of his choices and the need to face the consequences with resolve.

However, on one hand, there was a sense of determination and purpose. He still wanted to ensure his safety and success, and this decision was driven by a commitment to rectify past mistakes and protect those he cared about. The sacrifice of his core, though a significant personal loss, was a necessary act of redemption and selflessness.

“Redemption? Past mistakes?” Qingheng-jun frowned. “Again, what mistakes has he made? What redemption is necessary when he has not committed any crime?”

Yu Ziyuan flinched once again at Qingheng-jun's indirect question. She had numerous reasons and answers to his inquiries, yet voicing them seemed almost impossible. The weight of Wei Wuxian’s sacrifice was slowly, gradually sinking in, filling her with a sense of remorse.

As she recalled how she had instilled such a mindset in Wei Wuxian, a wave of guilt washed over her. She had always emphasized the importance of ensuring her son’s safety, convincing Wei Wuxian that it was his utmost responsibility. Now, as she witnessed the consequences of this belief, she felt a deep, gnawing sense of horror. Yes, her son was relatively safe, but what about Wei Wuxian? His selfless act had left him exposed to all manner of dangers, and the burden of this reality weighed heavily on her conscience. Who would bear the blame for his vulnerability now? The answer was painfully clear…

She would.

Yu Ziyuan clenched her fists, her inner turmoil evident. Jiang Fengmian noticed her distress and gently tried to hold her hand, offering a small measure of comfort in the midst of her emotional struggle.

"I agree," Mianmian murmured softly, ensuring her voice was low enough that Yu Ziyuan would not hear her.

“Let’s begin,” Wei Wuxian declared.

All of the cultivators took a deep breath, their hearts beating rapidly.

Wen Ning turned to Wei Wuxian and asked once more, “Wei-gongzi, why don’t you consider this?”

Wei Wuxian, touched by Wen Ning's concern, chuckled softly and replied, “It's not a serious matter. Even without my golden core, I am still Wei Wuxian.”

“Nothing serious?!” Jiang Wanyin exclaimed, his anger flaring at the thought that Wei Wuxian was treating the situation lightly. However, deep down, he understood that Wei Wuxian was, in fact, deeply serious and anxious, merely masking his true emotions as he always did.

“Senior Wei,” the disciples chorused, their voices filled with sadness and distress.

“Why is he like this?” Jin Ling whispered, his hands clenched into fists. He could admit to feeling both angry and worried for Wei Wuxian, but it frustrated him that Wei Wuxian couldn’t be honest about his true feelings in this moment. Everyone needed to see his sincerity.

“This… how can this be the same?!” Wen Ning argued, his body shaking, “You’re not like me. You have great spiritual energy and extraordinary talent! In the future, you could be a master cultivator! If you don’t have your golden core, don’t even talk of regular cultivation. You won’t be able to wield your sword anymore!”

What Wen Ning said was undeniably true. In hindsight, everything about Wei Wuxian not carrying his sword prior to and during the Sunshot Campaign now made perfect sense. This realization forced everyone to reflect on their actions and attitudes towards him.

However, even as they reflected, a pressing question loomed: what comes next? Seeking forgiveness might be an option, but the damage had already been done. Wei Wuxian's reputation had been irreparably tarnished the moment he was deemed dangerous and accused of using unorthodox cultivation methods. Although his reputation had somewhat improved, a lingering unease still permeated among cultivators and civilians alike when he’s near. He is still regarded as a dangerous man.

With the stark truth now confronting them, all they could do was grapple with their remorse and the weight of their collective guilt.

Wei Wuxian sighed, ignoring Wen Ning’s words and turned to Wen Qing, declaring, “Wen-guniang, hurry up and start. Jiang Wanyin is still waiting.”

He then proceeds to lie down to the ground next to Jiang Wanyin.

“Once I begin cutting out your core, the pain will be excruciating,” Wen Qing said bluntly as she prepares her tools. “Also, you must remain conscious. Are you prepared for that?”

“Wait, what do you mean remain conscious?” Cangse Sanren demanded, clutching her chest in horror. She really did not want to assume anything, but if she were correct, then… “What do you mean?!”

Wen Qing could feel the headache forming in her head. She couldn’t answer her, so instead, she said, “It will be explained.”

Wei Wuxian replied with a determined, “Yes.”

“Wei-gongzi!” Wen Ning exclaimed.

Wen Qing pulled out a blade, warning him, "Bear with it," before stabbing Wei Wuxian in the stomach.

"Ahhh!"

The cultivators gasped loudly in shock and horror. Lan Wangji closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight.

"Wait, wait! What about anesthesia?!" Jingyi screamed, now fully distressed. "You need to numb him first!"

"What is going on?!"

Wei Wuxian continued to scream in agony as Wen Qing made the incision.

The cultivators were paralyzed with a mixture of disbelief and terror, unable to reconcile the brutal reality unfolding before them with their understanding of medical practice.

The scene was too much for many; some turned away, while others watched in morbid fascination, unable to tear their eyes away despite the gruesome spectacle. The necessity of performing the procedure without anesthesia eluded many in their shock. This gruesome, excruciatingly painful process all too much to everyone.

Some began to cry, like Jiang Yanli and Cangse Sanren. While stabbing someone was not unique in the cultivation world, witnessing such brutal act, especially on a beloved individual, was something else. The emotional weight of the moment was evident, rendering the atmosphere heavy with shared grief and silent prayers for Wei Wuxian's survival.

‘I don’t even have a golden core. I can never form a core in this lifetime! How am I supposed to take revenge?!’ Jiang Wanyin’s voice echoed in Wei Wuxian’s mind.

‘It hurts! It hurt so much!’ Wei Wuxian screamed in his mind, tears streaming down his face.

Lan Wangji's heart shattered into a million pieces. It was too painful, too unbearable. He pulled his husband into a tight embrace.

"Wei Ying... Wei Ying," he whispered, his voice choked with tears. 

‘Wei Ying,’ Wen Qing began. ‘About the core transfer, I can only guarantee a fifty percent chance of success.’

‘Baoshan Sanren will have a way, right?’ Jiang Wanyin asked, anticipation brimming in his eyes.

“Arghhhh! Ahhhh!!”

Cangse Sanren’s anguished cry pierced the air as she fell to her knees, her face streaked with tears. She shut her eyes tightly, pressing her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to block out the unbearable sounds of her son’s suffering. “Stop this! Please, stop this now!” she pleaded.

“A-Se,” Wei Changze's voice trembled as he called to his wife, his own tears mingling with hers. He knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her in a desperate embrace. The sight of their son enduring such intense pain was unbearable. Their son’s pain and sacrifice, and the fact that it might not yet be over, left him feeling useless and helpless. 

“A-Ying,” he spoke softly, his voice trembling, “You can do this.”

‘Even without a core, I will have other ways to live,’ Wei Wuxian spoke with such conviction. ‘But Jiang Cheng won’t be able to.’

‘You idiot, how could you say that so confidently?’ Jiang Cheng thought, feeling a sharp pang of guilt and sorrow, and tears forming in the corner of his eyes. Wei Wuxian still believed in his ability to survive and adapt without a core? Hah! No one has been able to until he was born.

However, the stark reality behind Wei Wuxian’s statement pierced Jiang Cheng’s pride. The truth was undeniable: without his golden core, he’s nothing more than an empty vessel, fragile and easily shattered. His strength, his identity, utterly dependent on that core. So, scolding Wei Wuxian about his mindset was hypocritical of him.  

‘Uncle Jiang!’ He called out, running towards Jiang Fengmian with a huge smile on his face. ‘I’ve learned this sword move! Take a look!’

Jiang Fengmian’s eyes widened when he saw the memory, and his heart constrict. The realization that despite everything, Wei Wuxian still thinks of him. And now, here he is, sacrificing his core for his son.

‘Wei Ying, I’m sorry. I promise to change myself from now on. Don’t forgive me, but allow me to make amends of the gaps and mistakes I made in the past,’ he thought as he stared at the unconscious Wei Wuxian. He promises to speak what’s in his mind to Wei Wuxian later.

Wei Wuxian then demonstrated the move he learned to Jiang Fengmian and to the Jiang disciples.

‘How amazing!’

‘Do it again, Da-shixiong!’

‘Da-shixiong is too good!’

“His life is literally flashing before his eyes,” Jin Zixuan’s heart raced with mounting anxiety as he witnessed Wei Wuxian’s suffering.

Jiang Yanli, her hands tightly clasped together in a gesture of desperation, murmured, “He can’t die. Not A-Xian…”

Jin Ling, though tears streamed down his face, forced himself to hold back his sobs. “He won’t die, A-Niang,” he asserted with a shaky voice, his determination barely masking his own terror. The strain of the situation threatened to overwhelm him, yet he wanted to stay strong. He believed fervently in Wei Wuxian’s resilience and the success of the operation. “He won’t.”

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian's vision blurred increasingly, a combination of tears and the encroaching darkness of unconsciousness clouding his sight. The persistent ringing in his ears only heightened his sense of disorientation.

Desperation edged into Wen Qing’s voice as she urged, “Wei Wuxian, you must stay awake! You cannot afford to lose consciousness now!” Her distress was evident as she struggled to keep him awake.

‘You’re A-Ying, aren’t you? Here, I’ll take you home.’

Jiang Fengmian clenched his jaw and fists, his mind racing back to the day he found Wei Wuxian on the streets, a small, lost boy with eyes full of innocence and vulnerability. Seeing Wei Wuxian now, enduring such unbearable pain, brought a surge of emotions to the surface—sorrow for the suffering and a sense of helplessness. He remembered the promise he made to himself that day, to protect this child as his own, to give him a life free of fear and hardship. The scene before him was a cruel mockery of that promise, and it tore at his heart to see the boy he had come to love as a son now facing such torment.

‘I’m terrible,’ he admitted in his mind. ‘I’m truly a terrible father, and I’m so sorry Wei Ying.’

Wei Wuxian let out a sharp gasp and gagged, blood seeping from his mouth as he managed to utter, “Continue!”

Wen Qing, resolute, drove the knife deeper, prompting another wrenching cry from Wei Wuxian. Observing this scene with mounting horror, Wen Ning turned to his sister with urgent concern. “Jie, he’s on the verge of losing consciousness again!”

“Keep him conscious!”

“But, jie!” Wen Ning's voice cracked with anxiety and panic, “Why won’t anesthesia work?!”

Wen Qing, her voice strained yet firm, responded, “Wei Wuxian must stay awake throughout the procedure. Administering anesthesia could jeopardize the core’s removal process.”

The weight of her words hit Wen Ning hard, sending a shiver through his body. Despite his shock, he had no choice but to follow his sister’s command, knowing that the success of the operation—and perhaps Wei Wuxian’s survival—hinged on his actions.

“Why won’t anesthesia work? Please explain in detail,” Wei Changze pleaded at Wen Qing.

Wen Qing then went on to explain, “The removal of a golden core involves precise manipulation of spiritual energy. Wei Wuxian's active participation in directing and controlling his own energy is crucial to avoid disrupting the delicate balance of his spiritual pathways. Being awake allows him to respond to my instructions and adjust his energy flow accordingly. Also, the connection between the spiritual and physical aspects of the body is vital during the removal of a golden core. Anesthesia could disrupt this synchronization, leading to potential harm or failure of the procedure.”

“When did you have time to discover that?” Cangse Sanren asked, tears still streaming down her face.

“Two days before we went to the mountain,” Wen Qing replied. “I had begun preparations to ensure the operation would be as painless as possible. However, as I was progressing, I identified several risks and attempted to dissuade Wei Wuxian from proceeding. Unfortunately, he is utterly stubborn.”

“Then,” Cangse Sanren swallowed hard, bracing herself for the answer to her next question. “How long did the procedure take?”

“Two nights and a day,” Wen Ning answered in place of his sister, noting her visible distress. “He remained conscious throughout the entire duration.”

“Two nights and a day?!” Cangse Sanren exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“And conscious throughout,” Nie Mingjue said, struggling to grasp the full extent of the situation. Pain, while not uncommon in the cultivation world as part of the growth process, is typically treated by various means. However, enduring such agony while remaining fully awake for over forty-eight hours was unprecedented and nearly incomprehensible. The sheer fortitude required for such an ordeal was astounding, and the inability to administer anesthesia only compounded the severity of the situation. He could only feel a mixture of pity, guilt, and reluctant admiration for Wei Wuxian's extraordinary endurance.

“I can’t believe this,” Madam Jin mumbled, staring at Wei Wuxian on the screen, then the current Wei Wuxian.

The siblings' cries echoed through the mountain, their anguish evident as the operation took a turn for the worse.

“Don’t sleep, Wei Wuxian, please!”

“I’m fine! K-Keep going, Wen Qing!” Wei Wuxian commanded. Despite the searing pain, his voice remained resolute.

“Ahhhhh!”

The agonizing cries of Wei Wuxian persisted, with Wen Ning at his side, doing everything in his power to keep Wei Wuxian conscious. He spoke to him soothingly, ensuring that Wei Wuxian remained aware of his presence throughout the two day operation. After all the excruciating pain and unyielding resolve, Wen Qing finally succeeded in extracting the golden core.

The golden core, now removed, was pulsating with immense energy, its vibrant aura reflecting the vast spiritual power it once contained.

Once again, the sight of the golden core was intimidating. It shimmered with a life of its own, a living embodiment of the cultivation that Wei Wuxian had achieved.  

“It’s so…”

“Bright and... powerful,” another voice murmured, filled with both admiration and a hint of fear.

One cultivator, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and envy, whispered to another, “I’ve seen his core in the previous memory, but still, I've never seen anything like it. The sheer power… to think that this was within him all along.”

Another nodded solemnly, his gaze fixed on the core. “It’s terrifying, really. The amount of cultivation required to achieve something like this… it’s almost unimaginable. No wonder he was so formidable.”

Wen Qing carefully prepared for the next phase of the operation: transferring the golden core to Jiang Wanyin.

The core, now suspended between the two brothers, glowed brighter, its energy beginning to synchronize with Jiang Wanyin's spiritual flow. Every movement was deliberate, every breath measured. Wen Qing’s hands moved with a surgeon's precision, guiding the golden core into its new host.

Jiang Wanyin's body initially resisted the foreign energy, his spiritual meridians trembling under the strain of the powerful core. Wen Qing's voice was steady as she directed the energy, ensuring that the core would not overwhelm him. The process was delicate. One wrong move could result in irreversible damage to Jiang Wanyin’s spiritual foundation.

The Jiang family was a portrait of silent turmoil. Jiang Yanli trembled, her body betraying the overwhelming fear that had seized her heart. Across the room, Jiang Fengmian stood rigid, his fists and jaw clenched with such force that his prayers to the heavens seemed almost physical, as if sheer will alone could ensure his son's survival. Yu Ziyuan bit her lower lip, her intense gaze never leaving the Wen siblings as they worked. Despite the current state of Jiang Wanyin serving as undeniable proof of the operation's success, any misstep, however small, ignited her anxiety like a fresh wound.

"How long has it been since the surgery began?" an unfamiliar cultivator whispered, unable to mask their curiosity.

"Don't ask me," the person beside them muttered, their voice thick with dread. "I don’t even want to know."

As days bled into nights and the operation stretched on, the relentless passage of time took its toll. Fatigue weighed heavily on the siblings, their once-sharp eyes now rimmed with exhaustion. Their hands, once steady with precision, now trembled with every incision. Each breath they drew felt fragile, quivering as it fought to steady nerves worn thin by the unrelenting demands of the surgery.

On the final day of the surgery, Wei Wuxian finally was able to breath. Though breathing was a bit painful because of the incision and his voice was strained due to screaming in pain. Wen Qing made sure to elevate Wei Wuxian’s pain and gave him medicinal herb for his throat and incision.

“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning's voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, as he gently shifted to support Wei Wuxian, allowing him to lean against his shoulder. The weight of the world seemed to press down on Wei Wuxian, his body sagging into the offered support. In response, Wei Wuxian let out a heavy sigh, a sound laden with exhaustion, as though even the mere act of speaking was too much for him at this moment.

Lan Wangji stood motionless, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions as he cradled Wei Wuxian’s unconscious form in his arms. The intensity of his feelings left him in a trance-like state, unable to fully grasp the flood of thoughts crashing within. Wen Ning had warned him beforehand: the chances of the operation succeeding were only fifty percent. Even then, the mere thought of such odds had unsettled him. He could barely fathom what Wei Wuxian had endured.

But now, having witnessed it all, a singular question lingered in Lan Wangji’s mind: why? Why does Wei Wuxian possess such kindness, such selflessness, and an almost unfathomable capacity for love? Why does he remain loyal to a household that scarcely acknowledges his worth, let alone returns his devotion? It defied reason, the way Wei Wuxian gave so much of himself—his heart, his soul—for people who had offered him so little in return. Lan Wangji could not understand this, though he longed to. How could one man bear so much, give so freely, and expect nothing in return, despite the betrayal and loss?

In the stillness of the moment, Lan Wangji’s heart ached not only for Wei Wuxian but also for the cruel injustice that lay hidden beneath his gentle exterior. His loyalty, his empathy, his relentless resolve—it all spoke to a soul more selfless and compassionate than most could even comprehend. And yet, it was those very virtues that had condemned him to suffering.

Lan Wangji turned his gaze toward Jiang Wanyin, his eyes narrowing as they fixed upon the spot where Wei Wuxian's golden core once resided, and thoughts surged through his mind, each one sharp with quiet indignation, ‘He does not deserve it.’

Lan Wangji’s heart simmered with quiet resentment.

“Stop glaring at me, Lan Wangji. I know you're angry,” Jiang Wanyin’s voice broke the tense silence, laced with reluctant resignation. “But know this: I will carry this core with pride, and I will forever be grateful for Wei Wuxian’s sacrifice, even though I never asked for it. I admit, I was in denial at first. Even now, despite witnessing everything, a part of me still struggles to accept it. But if Wei Wuxian offered me a chance at a miracle, then it’s only right for me to accept it.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze burned with restrained anger, his voice a low, “A miracle? You speak of it as though it were some gift bestowed upon you, as if you had the right to accept it. You speak of pride and gratitude, but do you truly understand what Wei Wuxian sacrificed for you?!”

Jiang Wanyin’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Lan Wangji’s anger spilled over, “He severed a part of himself, his soul for your sake! And what did you do in return? You turned your back on him the moment the world began to judge him. When he needed you most, you abandoned him. You left him to bear the weight of his suffering alone!”

Jiang Wanyin's face darkened, his expression steeling under the weight of Lan Wangji’s accusations. “How am I to blame for a sacrifice I never consented to?” he retorted, his voice laced with bitterness. “Do you think he is the only one who has sacrificed his life for another? I fought just as hard to save him, so why does your anger fall on me?!” His words grew sharper, tinged with frustration. “Do you think I haven't borne the weight of this guilt for all these years? I never asked for this core, and I certainly never wanted it! But it is mine now, and while I may never fully comprehend the cost of what was given, I cannot change the past!"

Lan Wangji’s eyes flared with fury, ready to unleash a retort, but before he could, he felt the gentle yet firm touch of Madam Lan’s hand on his shoulder, redirecting his attention.

“A-Zhan, that’s enough,” Madam Lan said softly but with authority. “You’re hurting Wei Wuxian.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze immediately dropped, realizing with a start that his grip on Wei Wuxian’s arms had tightened, unconsciously digging into his skin. Guilt surged through him as he saw how his own emotions had caused harm. Without hesitation, he began channeling his energy into Wei Wuxian, easing the pressure and healing the forming bruises.

“I will apologize on Wangji’s behalf,” Qingheng-jun interjected, his tone calm but commanding. Lan Wangji’s head snapped up, his disbelief evident. The words he had spoken were not born from rashness, but conviction—he did not regret them. Yet his father continued. “That said, I do understand the place from which his anger stems,” Qingheng-jun added, his gaze shifting to the Jiang family. “So, I ask that the Jiang family overlook this incident and allow my son a reprieve.”

“Of course, Qingheng-jun,” Jiang Fengmian responded before Yu Ziyuan can. “In truth, I do not take offense at his outburst. He has every right to feel the way he does, just as my son has had to bear the sacrifice he never asked for. Both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have made choices.”

Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze stood silently at the sidelines, watching the scene unfold with solemn expressions. Although they had cried their hearts out for the suffering their son had endured, they couldn’t deny a glimmer of appreciation for Lan Wangji’s fierce anger. His rage was, in a way, comforting to them, it truly shows his affection and devotion to Wei Wuxian. It was a bittersweet revelation—they were grateful that someone cherished their son so deeply, yet an undeniable sadness gnawed at them, reminding them of their absence during the moments when Wei Wuxian had needed them the most.

Seven days later, the scene changed. Wei Wuxian sat perched on a rock, his exhaustion palpable. Dark circles marred his sunken eyes, and his skin had taken on a ghastly pallor, making him appear as fragile as paper. The fatigue was evident; he seemed barely able to keep himself upright.

Madam Jin was taken aback. “Wait, a whole week has passed since then?” she blurted, disoriented by the sudden time leap. The progression of events left her uneasy. However, as a mother herself, something deep within stirred, a protective instinct ignited by the sight of Wei Wuxian's pitiable state. It was as if she wanted nothing more than to reach into the memory and help him as much as she can.

Xiao Xingchen, too, shared in the concern. “He looks as though he could collapse at any moment,” he observed, his tone laden with worry. Wei Wuxian’s current appearance reminded him painfully of Jiang Wanyin during his time without a core, but this time, the circumstances seemed even more dire.

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms, frowning as he tried to process what he was seeing. “I’m surprised he’s managed to hold out for this long,” he remarked, before turning to Wen Qing with a question that weighed on his mind. “Has he had any rest since then?”

Wen Qing nodded, but there was a heaviness in her voice. “He did rest, but… you know how stubborn he is. He never knows when to stop.”

Nie Mingjue exhaled deeply, his concern evident.

Beside him, his brother Nie Huaisang remained quiet, his gaze intently fixed on the memory. From the surroundings, he deduced that Wei Wuxian was likely waiting at the base of the mountain for Jiang Wanyin. However, an unsettling feeling began to creep over him. There was something ominous about the scene, an inexplicable sense of foreboding that made him uneasy. Despite his efforts to dismiss it as overthinking, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

‘I just hope Jiang-xiong arrives soon,’ he thought anxiously.

As Wei Wuxian began tracing yet another circle into the dirt, a sudden, sharp crack reverberated through the air, instantly breaking the silence in the forest.

Every cultivator in the room snapped to attention, their senses immediately heightened.

Nie Huaisang cursed inwardly. He shouldn’t have tempted fate. Damn it.

“Who's there?!” Jiang Wanyin barked, his eyes darting around, scanning for any sign of movement. He knew it wasn’t him—he had been anxiously searching for later on, only to find no trace of him. Now, someone— or something—was drawing near him.  

“Wen Chao!” Lan Wangji's voice cut through the tension, a low hiss laced with barely restrained fury.

Jiang Yanli gasped, turning sharply toward Lan Wangji as if to seek confirmation. “Wen Chao?! Are you certain?”

Lan Wangji nodded gravely. “Wen Chao... he boasted of capturing Wei Ying when he was at his most vulnerable, and—” his voice faltered, trembling with barely contained rage. The rest of the sentence hung in the air, unsaid yet deeply understood by all. For those who knew what Lan Wangji could not bring himself to utter, fists tightened and jaws clenched in shared fury.

“Damn it!” Jiang Wanyin cursed as he played with zidian in his finger.

“What?” Wei Changze's voice rang out, demanding answers. His piercing gaze locked onto Lan Wangji. “What is Wen Chao planning to do, Lan Wangji?” His voice trembled with a mixture of desperation and dread.

“He’s going to—”

“It’s best to say nothing and let them witness it for themselves,” Baoshan Sanren interjected sharply, silencing Lan Wangji with a commanding gaze that left no room for argument.

As if on cue, the air grew thick with tension. The sound of Wei Wuxian’s breath quickened, each inhalation more ragged than the last. His chest heaved erratically, and the dark circles under his eyes only deepened, giving him the haunting appearance of a creature driven to the edge, desperate and cornered.

Then, from behind him, there was a swift movement—so fast it was almost imperceptible.

A hand slammed into Wei Wuxian’s chest with brutal force.

“Shit!” Jin Zixuan cursed under his breath, his hand moving as he instinctively reached for his sword, only to realize that he did not have it with him.

“Wen Zhuliu?!” Madam Lan gasped in horror, her normally calm demeanor shattered by the sight.

Wei Wuxian’s body was sent flying, crashing into the nearest tree with a sickening thud. The bark splintered upon impact, and he crumpled to the ground in a heap. His once vibrant robes were now smeared with dirt and blood, as a fresh wave of crimson spilled from his lips.

Time seemed to freeze.

Wen Zhuliu, his attacker, stood rooted to the spot. His eyes widened in disbelief. He hadn’t expected this. The infamous Core-Melting Hand had struck only hollow emptiness.

“Of course Wen Zhuliu would be shocked. He doesn’t have his core anymore,” Lan Xichen whispered under his breath.

Beside him, Song Lan scowled, his eyes narrowing into slits as they bored into Wen Zhuliu. “I’d forgotten he was Wen Chao’s loyal dog,” he muttered bitterly, disgust evident in his tone.

Wei Wuxian staggered to his feet, still swaying from the impact of Wen Zhuliu’s blow. Before he could fully steady himself—

A sharp, metallic sound cut through the air. The cold steel of a sword pierced through his back, its tip emerging from his chest.

For a moment, the world stood still.

“No!” Cangse Sanren’s scream shattered the silence as she watched her son’s body buckle under the blow. The sight of blood staining his robes—the life slowly draining from his already weary form—was too much to bear.

Wei Changze was unable to fully grasp the brutality of the scene before him. The violence unfolding was overwhelming, triggering painful memories of his son's earlier sufferings and amplifying the anguish coursing through him. What shook him even more was the cruel timing of Wen Chao’s appearance. That this despicable man would arrive immediately after the operation, felt like a bitter twist of fate.

Wei Wuxian collapsed to the ground, his body crumpling lifelessly, like a puppet with its strings severed. Behind him, Wen Chao’s smirking face appeared, twisted with triumph as he arrogantly withdrew the blade, letting it drip with Wei Wuxian’s blood.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng’s voice boomed across the room.

“Senior Wei!" the junior disciples cried out, their eyes wide with shock, hands flying to their mouths as they recoiled in horror at the sight before them.

“That wretched dog!” Jingyi burst out, his voice laced with fury.

Lan Qiren did not even reprimand him for the outburst.

“How dare he?!” Zizhen demanded, his voice trembling as his eyes welled with tears of frustration.

Sizhui was rendered speechless. He could only focus on the sight of his Xian-gege’s still body, blood pooling beneath him.

The other cultivators stood frozen, their faces a mixture of shock and disbelief. Jiang Fengmian’s normally stoic expression cracked as he processed the sight before him.

Nie Mingjue’s face twisted into a snarl, his hand reflexively moving to his saber, the urge to take action barely restrained. He had expected many things in battle, but seeing Wei Wuxian cut down like this, in such a cowardly, underhanded manner, filled him with fury. “Wen Chao... you disgrace your clan with such vile tactics,” he spat under his breath.

Lan Xichen’s usually steady composure wavered, and his gaze shifted to his brother, Lan Wangji, whose expression had darkened with something far more than anger. He was already angry earlier, but this scene in particular intensified it to such a degree that Lan Xichen now found himself genuinely concerned.

Even those who had long harbored disdain for Wei Wuxian were now beginning to feel a reluctant sense of concern for him, a realization they wished to deny but could no longer ignore. The Yiling Laozu was invincible in battle. However, having witnessed the events from the beginning to this very moment, they were beginning to understand Wei Wuxian’s hatred for Wen Chao and the desperation that had driven him to use demonic cultivation.

Inwardly, they wished for nothing more than for Wei Wuxian to end Wen Chao’s life here and now. Yet, in his current weakened state, even lifting a sword seemed an insurmountable task.

“Wei Wuxian will kill Wen Chao,” one female cultivator stated with conviction.

“Yes,” her companion agreed. “I’ve heard about what happened in the past. I just hope I can witness him deliver the most brutal justice possible.”

Wen Zhuliu, having stepped back beside Wen Chao, stood in grim silence. His face, though impassive, flickered with a faint unease. He had followed orders—done what needed to be done—but even he hadn’t expected Wei Wuxian to fall so easily. Something didn’t sit right.

Wen Chao, on the other hand, basked in Wei Wuxian’s vulnerable state. He lips formed a smug grin, reveling in his moment of victory. “What, are you down on your knees already?” he sneered, his voice thick with arrogance. “Pathetic.”

“You vile bastard,” Cangse Sanren retorted, her voice charged with indignation. “I curse you—may your name be damned for all eternity for inflicting such pain upon my son!”

The other cultivators exchanged glances, their expressions darkening in response to Wen Chao’s taunt.

“If he were still alive,” Nie Huaisang murmured softly, his voice barely audible but laced with a dangerous edge, “I would have skinned him alive.”

Several heads turned toward him, eyes widening in disbelief. Even Nie Mingjue felt a flicker of shock ripple through him. Yet, deep down, it wasn’t entirely surprising. His brother had always hidden a sharpness beneath the layers of harmless demeanor and with his intricate webs of manipulation. It would be no great surprise if Nie Huaisang’s words were not just an idle remark but a glimpse into his calculating mind.

As Wei Wuxian struggled to rise from the ground, a violent cough forced a river of blood to surge from his lips, staining the ground beneath him. The taste of iron filled his mouth, and his vision swam, blurred by exhaustion and injury. Before he could steady himself, another brutal kick sent him sprawling back to the dirt, a sickening thud accompanying his collapse.

Wen Chao loomed over him, his expression twisted in delight. “What’s wrong? Fight back!” he mocked, his voice rising in a vicious sneer. “Weren’t you supposed to be good? I heard legends about the great Wei Wuxian—yet look at you now, groveling like a dog at my feet.”

“You ambushed him!” Jin Ling shouted, his tone raw and trembling with rage. “You coward! How dare you attack him like this—like a snake, striking from the shadows!”

“Ridicule him only when you surpass him,” Jin Zixuan hissed, his eyes narrowing into a sharp glare as they locked onto Wen Chao.

Mianmian, her face flushed with fury, spatm “You’ll never be half the man Wei Wuxian is. No matter how many cheap tricks you use, no matter how many lies you tell, Wei Wuxian will always be better than you. And deep down, you know it. That's why you fear him.”

 “You brat!” Wen Chao sneered, voice rising as he continued his relentless mockery. “Didn’t you jump around quite a bit back in the Xuanwu of Slaughter’s cave? And now you're finished with just a single strike? Go on, keep jumping! Show me how arrogant you are!”

Jiang Wanyin’s hands clenched into fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, veins bulging with barely restrained fury. His jaw was set, teeth grinding as his heart burned with helpless rage at the sight of his brother crumpled on the ground. If only he could charge forward and strike Wen Chao down—but he can’t. His nails dug into his palms as the venom of the insult seeped into his mind, tainting his thoughts with revenge.

Lan Qiren, who had initially maintained a stoic silence, finally broke, his tone filled with icy disdain, “Mocking a man already brought low, incapable of facing him with honor on equal ground? Such is the way of your sect.”

Beside him, Qingheng-jun and Lan Xichen both inclined their heads in agreement.

“If Senior Wei were at his full strength, he’d surpass your arrogance with ease,” Jingyi retorted, his voice laced with disgust. “You’d be the one bowing your head in shame for daring to provoke him.”

Meanwhile, Yu Ziyuan's presence had been quietly simmering beneath the surface, but now her eyes gleamed with a cold, lethal fury. She knew she had no right to feel anger on Wei Wuxian’s behalf, not after everything she had done to him. Yet, despite her own transgressions, Wei Wuxian remained a member of the Jiang Clan—a fact she could not deny, no matter how prideful she was. Though she would never admit it aloud, even to herself, Wei Wuxian had been one of the Jiang Clan’s finest disciples.

Her piercing gaze locked onto Wen Chao, her thoughts cold and calculated. ‘You think yourself victorious because Wei Wuxian has fallen?’ she mused darkly. ‘Fool. Once you’ve burned out the last of your pitiful power, you’ll be the one on your knees.’

“Where is Jiang Cheng?” Wen Chao inquired, his tone dripping with malice.

Wei Wuxian remained silent, offering only the sound of his heavy, labored breaths in response.

“What? Is silence all you can muster?” Wen Chao laughed mockingly. “You cannot save him by refusing to speak. As it stands, Jiang Cheng is nothing but a burden—a mere animal.”

Yu Ziyuan’s protective instincts flared as she growled defensively at Wen Chao's words. Even Jiang Fengmian and Jiang Yanli had their brows furrowed, frustrated at the scene before them. 

“How dare you! You ambushed him!” Jin Ling and Jingyi exclaimed at the same time.

“The Yunmeng Jiang Clan is finished,” Wen Chao declared with a contemptuous grin.

Finally, Wei Wuxian lifted his gaze, glaring fiercely at the assembled Wens, a flash of determination igniting in his eyes.

“Your downfall will come long before ours,” Jiang Fengmian muttered lowly. His words, though quiet, carried an unexpected weight that silenced the air around him.

Lan Qiren, standing nearby, registered Jiang Fengmian's uncharacteristic outburst with quiet surprise. It was a tone of icy fury, one he'd never before heard from the usually composed clan leader. But then, considering the gravity of the memories they were now witnessing, such a reaction was more than warranted.

“Yes,” Qingheng-jun remarked in response, his voice carrying a calm yet cutting edge. “Such bold words for a man whose clan teeters on the brink of ruin.”

Wen Chao’s lip curled in contempt, and he taunted further, “What’s wrong? Your old masters are gone. You should learn your place, wag your tail, and kneel before your new ones.”

A high-pitched voice, filled with malicious delight, chimed in, “Wen-gongzi~!” Wang Lingjiao crooned with a sickening sweetness, batting her lashes at Wen Chao. “Quick! Chop off his hand, will you? He still owes me one!”

Cangse Sanren, whose temper had been simmering under control, could hold back no longer, “You shameless, conniving wretch!” she spat, her voice resonating with raw disgust. “A harlot with no honor to speak of, yet you dare demand such cruelty with that disgusting smile on your face?! How dare you stand there like some pampered pet, feeding off others’ misery while you contribute nothing but venom and deceit? You little shit, I will curse you for targeting my son like this.”

Her words sent a sudden chill through the room, for everyone present understood all too well—when it came to matters concerning her son, she would act without hesitation, whether the issue was grave or insignificant.

Even Wei Changze and Lan Wangji bore expressions of quiet fury. It was as if they were poised on the edge, silently daring Wen Chao to act on Wang Lingjiao’s vile command. The moment he did, they would strike without hesitation.

“No, no, no, let’s not hurry,” Wen Chao decided.

Meanwhile, Wen Zhuliu stood on the side, staring down at his hand in confusion.

Unaware of the storm brewing within his bodyguard’s mind, Wen Chao merely hummed, his tone almost jovial as he mused aloud, “Yes, precisely. It took us such an inordinate amount of time to locate that brat; we must savor this. Lopping off his hand all at once would cause excessive bleeding. Should he perish prematurely, where’s the fun in that?”

The scene was suffused with barely contained fury, even from the likes of Lan Qiren and Qingheng-jun, men known for their composure. Their anger was palpable, simmering beneath the surface as they witnessed the injustice unfolding before them. Wei Wuxian had only just descended from the mountain after enduring a harrowing surgery, yet here he was, subjected to the demeaning cruelty of a mere Wen heir.

Wei Wuxian was the embodiment of heroism and selflessness. Clever and courageous, his actions always spoke of a man willing to sacrifice everything for the greater good. In many ways, he was more than what the world deserved from this otherwise grim reality. It was little wonder that this had ignited such rage among those who cared for him.

Wen Chao, by contrast, was the antithesis of Wei Wuxian. He was petty and ignoble, devoid of the strength of character or moral compass that defined his counterpart. He was a man whose worth was measured not by his virtues but by the shadow cast by his family’s influence—a man who could only diminish others because he himself could never measure up.

“Very well! Begin by melting his core,” Wen Chao commanded, his voice dripping with malice as he crouched down, seizing Wei Wuxian by the hair. With an aggressive yank, he forced the boy to meet his eyes, a cruel grin stretching across his face. “I want to hear him scream the way that pathetic Jiang Cheng did!”

From behind the screen, Yu Ziyuan and Cangse Sanren reacted in unison, their fury erupting like a storm. Both women took decisive steps forward, their intent clear—to storm through the screen and deliver righteous vengeance upon Wen Chao. However, their husbands, Jiang Fengmian and Wei Changze, restrained them, their grips firm but their own wrath no less contained.

“Do you think you’ll escape the same fate as my son?” Cangse Sanren spat, her voice a venomous hiss.

“You’ll be the one begging for mercy, screaming until your throat is raw, when my son comes for you, you filthy Wendog!” Yu Ziyuan exclaimed, her tone fierce, her eyes blazing with maternal rage.

Wang Lingjiao’s laughter rang out like the sharp chime of malice, “An excellent suggestion, Wen-er-gongzi! Start by melting his core—strip him of his cultivation—and then sever his hand for good measure.”

Her tone was dripping with cruelty, yet Wei Wuxian’s response was far from one of despair or anger. Instead, he spat a mouthful of blood onto Wen Chao's face, the crimson staining his cheek like a mocking mark of defiance. 

Nie Mingjue allowed his lips to twitch upward in faint amusement, his sharp eyes taking in the scene with a mixture of disbelief and reluctant admiration. 

To everyone’s surprise, Wei Wuxian began to laugh, the sound startlingly genuine despite the severity of his situation. 

Confusion rippled through the room. How could anyone find humor in such dire circumstances? What could possibly amuse him at this moment? 

“He ‘would’ laugh in a situation like this,” Jingyi muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. “Leave it to Wei Wuxian to be the one person who doesn’t take his own struggle seriously.”

“A-Xian, please, just run!” Jiang Yanli pleaded, her voice trembling with a combination of fear, desperation, and anger. “Find a way to escape!”

But the reality of the situation was inescapable. The Wens had surrounded him completely, cutting off every possible escape.

“Run?” Wei Wuxian echoed mockingly, his grin widening. “Why not? Seems like an excellent plan!” His laughter bubbled forth again, this time louder, sharper, as though mocking not only his captors but fate itself. “Come now, show me the best torture techniques you’ve got. I’d hate to die without knowing the full extent of your cruelty!” 

“Wei-ying!” Cangse Sanren’s voice cracked as she called out, torn between fury and agony. She couldn’t decide if she should scold him for his recklessness or mourn him prematurely for the inevitable. 

Wei Changze have found this scene hauntingly familiar. His wife’s fiery personality, her talent for provoking those she loathed, had clearly been inherited by their son. Watching Wei Wuxian toy with his enemies in this moment, even at the brink of death, would have been like seeing a ghost of his wife’s defiance—one he might have admired in another context but now wished Wei Wuxian had not so thoroughly embraced. 

‘Wei Ying, stop this and escape!’ he screamed in his mind.

“How long do you think you can keep up this charade?” Wang Lingjiao sneered, her eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. 

“Close to death, and yet still you posture as a hero,” Wen Chao added with a derisive snort. “What arrogance.” 

Jin Ling, watching from the sidelines, could no longer hold back his frustration. “What is wrong with him?!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of bewilderment and disbelief. “He’s practically begging for death!” 

“It is precisely because death is near that I am elated!” Wei Wuxian declared, and a wild grin spread across his bloodied face, his teeth gleaming against the smears of crimson. “Come then! Torture me if you dare—the crueler, the better!” 

The gleam in his eyes was manic, unyielding, and suffused with a madness so intense that even the most hardened of Wen cultivators involuntarily took a step back. 

“And when I die,” Wei Wuxian continued, his voice dipping into an ominous cadence, “I will return as a fierce ghost! I’ll haunt you until the darkness consumes you all. I’ll drag you into the abyss with me!” 

Wen Chao faltered. For a fleeting moment, his face betrayed a flicker of unease as he instinctively flinched back.

The cultivators stood stunned, and an oppressive silence enveloped the room.

“A fierce ghost, you say?” Wen Chao finally managed, his voice wavering before he forced himself to laugh. Steeling his nerves, he took a deliberate step forward, his lips curling into a sneer. “What nonsense! Do you think you can frighten me with idle threats?” 

He raised a hand and struck Wei Wuxian, the force of the blow slamming his head into the ground. 

“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji exclaimed, his usual stoicism was replaced with an unmistakable fury that burned in his eyes and clenched his jaw. The sight of his husband, bloodied yet unbowed, only deepened Lan Wangji’s inner turmoil. Every instinct within him screamed for action—to end this madness before it could consume the man he could not bear to lose.

But Wen Chao, eager to reestablish his dominance, ignored her. “The Young Masters of the great sects,” he began mockingly, “have all undergone soul-calming ceremonies since they were young. Do you think your ghostly threats mean anything to me?” 

Unbeknownst to him, Wen Chao was echoing the very words Wei Wuxian had teasingly told Jiang Cheng only days prior. 

And yet, despite the blood staining his face and the cruel strike that had sent him sprawling, Wei Wuxian continued to laugh. It was the laugh of someone who had already accepted death—and in doing so, had become something far more terrifying than a mere mortal.

Some of the cultivators had the slightest idea on why he’s not afraid of death. It wasn’t because he was someone who was heroic, but he was someone who had nothing to lose now, and that’s even more terrifying.

“Oh, young master, you couldn’t be more wrong,” he snickered, his tone turning patronizing. “I haven’t been raised in the Jiang Clan since birth. I’m the son of rogue cultivators. I haven’t gone through the ceremony.”

If that was the case….

“He could return as a fierce ghost,” Madam Jin whispered.

“No!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed, horrified by the prospect of her brother turning into a fierce ghost.

But he did turn into someone fierce. If Wen Chao killed him, Wei Wuxian would hunt him down and repay the favor.

“If I die full of resentment, I’ll pay you back a hundredfold after my death!”

Wen Chao paled.

And everyone else paled visibly, their expressions betraying the weight of Wei Wuxian's words. Everyone understood the gravity of his threats—he had never been one for idle boasts. His return to the cultivation world after a brief disappearance, the once-dominant Wen Clan had suffered devastating losses.

For the disciples, the situation teetered on the edge of morbid fascination. They were so close to witnessing firsthand how their revered Senior Wei had come to be branded the villain of the cultivation world. Though the transformation was shrouded in infamy, their curiosity outweighed their fear. They wanted to understand the path that had led him to such a fate, even if it meant confronting the worst parts of him.

“Young Master Wen, don’t listen to this nonsense,” Wang Lingjiao suggested. “Not everyone becomes a ferocious ghost after they die—the time, place, and situation all need to be right. Besides, even if he did become one, the Qishan Wen Sect can handle a single ghost.”

And yet Wen Chao still hesitated.

“He wasn’t even a fierce ghost, yet he’s capable of wiping out an entire clan on his own,” Jin Ling muttered. “How much more devastating would he be if he actually became one?”

Jingyi nodded solemnly, adding, “The cultivation world would’ve been plunged into chaos No sect, no alliance, would have been able to stand against such unrelenting fury.”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” a Nie Sect disciple interjected, his tone skeptical. “After all, they managed to capture Wen Ning in the past, didn’t they?”

Lan Jingyi let out an exasperated groan, his frustration evident. “You just don’t get it, do you?” he retorted. “I’m not talking about capturing him. I’m talking about the intensity of his resentment. Even if someone were to succeed in restraining him, do you honestly think the cultivation world could endure the force of that resentment? Handling Chifeng-jun and Wen Ning was already a challenge, and their grievances pale in comparison to what he could unleash.”

“Moreover,” Jin Ling interjected, “Wei Wuxian is incredibly smart. Who can predict the extent of what he might achieve should he become a fierce ghost?”

“Can you two stop talking about him becoming a fierce ghost?” Lan Sizhui interjected, his tone laced with mild frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The mere thought of his Xian-gege transforming into such a malevolent entity unsettled him deeply. Adding to his unease was the expression on his uncle’s discomforted face as he listened to the ongoing discussion.

The Nie disciple, Jin Ling, and Jingyi shut their mouths after that.

Annoyed, Wang Lingjiao continued, “Don’t tell me that you’ll let him go just because he threatened you?”

“O-of course not!”

Cangse Sanren cursed, “I’ll skin her alive.”

Knowing that he’d definitely die, Wei Wuxian grew calm. The bone-deep hatred within him settled into iron-hard determination.

“Why are just accepting this, A-xian?!” Wei Changze protested. Yes, it was true that none of them could see a way out of this, but Wei Wuxian could do anything. And yet, it seemed like he wasn’t planning on fighting back at all.

‘Is he really not going to fight at all?’ Wei Changze thought as he clenched his jaw and fist in frustration. Even if his son lost his core, and on top of that he’s on the verge of recovering after that surgery, he should still think about how to escape and go to Jiang Wanyin! He just can’t surrender like this!

Not like this!

Finally, Wen Chao could no longer endure the cold indifference etched into Wei Wuxian’s expression. The defiance, unspoken yet palpable, stoked his irritation to dangerous levels. His threats had fallen flat, and he knew it—but there was something far more unsettling eating away at him.

Fear.

It crept into his chest, cold and insidious, as though Wei Wuxian’s composed demeanor was a mirror reflecting his own inadequacy. His frustration boiled over, and with a snarl, he lashed out, kicking Wei Wuxian sharply in the stomach. The sound of impact was followed swiftly by the flurry of movement as other Wen disciples moved to mimic his actions, their cowardice masked by their leader’s aggression.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy with evident hostility as all eyes turned toward Wen Chao, their glares sharp and unforgiving. The Wei family, along with Lan Wangji, simmered with barely contained fury.

But in the midst of this, a voice cut through, low and disdainful. “You see his indifference, and now you’re trembling?” Nie Mingjue’s tone was biting, each word dripping with scorn as he took in Wen Chao’s growing panic. His sharp eyes caught the subtle quiver in the man’s posture, the cracks forming in his once-overbearing façade. “Where is your arrogance now, Wen Chao?”

“Is this the strength of Qishan Wen’s supposed heir? Reduced to quaking at the mere sight of someone who won’t bow to your pitiful bluster?” Qingheng-jun said, his words laced with disdain.

Lan Qiren scoffed and remarked, “Truly humiliating.”

As the vicious blows rained down upon Wei Wuxian, his body became a canvas of bruises. His face, chest, and limbs were streaked with swelling, darkening the once-pristine skin beneath. A well-aimed kick landed squarely on his back, causing him to gasp as the air was knocked from his lungs. Yet, despite the overwhelming pain, he remained eerily composed, a stillness in his eyes that betrayed no trace of fear or desperation.

Time seemed to stretch on interminably, until Wen Chao finally, almost begrudgingly, issued the command, “Enough!”

Wei Wuxian, blood trickling from his lips, glanced over his shoulder with an unsettling calm.

The indifference in his gaze sent a shiver through the crowd, a stark contrast to the torture he had just endured.

“Just why is he so calm about this?!” Mianmian exclaimed, unable to hold back any longer. Her gaze darted from Wei Wuxian, still eerily composed despite the abuse, to the others around her, hoping for an explanation that made sense.

His thoughts were far from the present agony.

‘Is it time to kill me?’ he wondered. ‘It won’t be all that different even if I die. Can’t be worse than living! And there’s a one in three chance I’ll become a fierce ghost and seek revenge.’

“Wait… what?”

“He’s really just accepting this?”

“Not fighting back-”

“A-xian, no!”

As more outraged shouts passed through the watchers. It was undeniable that the Wei Wuxian before them was trying to die, and the obvious answer was ‘to conceal the truth that he has already lost his golden core.’

“He’s not just ignoring the pain. He’s embracing it, like he wants them to break him—like he’s daring them to try,” Zizhen chimed in, shaking their head in disbelief.

“Why is he like this?!” Jin Zixuan said, feeling frustrated as well.

As audacious as ever, Wei Wuxian maintained a defiant gaze directed at Wen Chao, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Wen Chao had envisioned breaking Wei Wuxian's spirit, forcing him to kneel and beg for mercy, yet the more time passed, the less likely that outcome seemed.

A dark thought crossed Wen Chao’s mind, and with a sudden, knowing smile, he made a decision.

"Wei Ying," he sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. "You think you're invincible, don't you? That you're some paragon of courage and strength?"

Cangse Sanren clenched his teeth in frustration, thinking, ‘Fuck this kid. I don’t care if he’s Wen Ruohan’s heir—if there’s another world where I’m still alive, I’m killing him on sight’

“Oh, look at that. A Wen-dog who can speak like a human.”

Wen Chao slammed his fist down.

“Laughing in the face of danger,” Jiang Fengmian muttered under his breath. While he was well aware of Wei Wuxian’s tendency to provoke others—often in a playful manner—he couldn’t help but feel a rising irritation at his behavior in such a dire situation. ‘A-Xian, are you even aware of the situation you’re in right now? How can you still muster the strength to provoke him like this?’

Wen Chao, his expression twisting into a cruel smirk, stepped forward, taunting, “Fine, continue flaunting your sharp tongue. Let’s see how long you can maintain this farce of heroism.”

With a dismissive gesture, Wen Chao signaled to Wei Wuxian, and Wen Zhuliu obediently moved to lift him.

The order was as casual as it was merciless. “Take him.”

“Wait, where are you taking him?!” Cangse Sanren’s voice rang out, taut with urgency. She stepped forward, her expression a tempest of fury and anxiety. “Where are you taking him? What do you plan to do?!”

Mianmian also felt Cangse Sanren’s sentiment, exclaiming, “He’s innocent. Whatever grievance you hold, he has no part in it. If you have any sense of justice—”

“Justice and Wen Chao don’t belong in the same sentence,” Madam Jin retorted sharply. “If he possessed even a shred of justice, he would have spared countless lives instead of reveling in their suffering.”

As Wei Wuxian hung limply in Wen Zhuliu’s arms, his battered body swayed with the motion of their ascent. He had no strength left to resist, his injuries rendering him defenseless. The clarity bell, a tool meant to guard against hallucinations and dark spells, broke loose from his robes and fell to the ground with a faint chime.

After being silent for a while and forcing herself to remain indifferent, Yu Ziyuan finally reacted, her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists, the sharp sting of pain grounding her in the moment. Yes, the bell was a tool of protection, but it was more than that—it was a symbol of a cultivator’s identity.

The sight of the bell brought back the sting of her clan’s downfall, an ache she tried so hard to bury under layers of detachment. But in this moment, her composure crumbled. She could no longer ignore the harsh reality that the once-proud Jiang Clan had fallen, their honor tarnished, their strength scattered to the winds. The faint chime of the bell might as well have been the toll of a funeral knell, a sound that reverberated deep in her soul. 

Hell, for all her strength and reputation, she had been unable to protect what mattered most.

While Yu Ziyuan wrestled with her inner turmoil, Madam Jin observed her carefully, her sharp gaze cutting through the tension in the room. Inwardly, she mused, ‘Regardless of whether this is about Wei Wuxian or your own regrets over what you’ve lost, it changes nothing.’

Then, the scene changed. The Wens soared into the sky, their flight leaving the mountains behind. The towering peaks gradually faded into the distance, a mere blur beneath them, as the world below shrank away, leaving behind the recovering Jiang Wanyin.

Wei Wuxian, barely clinging to consciousness through the searing pain of his injuries, struggled to make sense of the situation. ‘Why are they taking me so high into the air?’ he wondered. ‘Are they going to drop me from somewhere and let me fall to my death?’

‘Burial Mounds,’ Lan Wangji, pale with horror, spoke almost inaudibly. His voice trembled slightly, betraying the dread that coiled in his chest. Of course the Wens would choose this cursed place. The place where resentful energy runs rampant, where every shadow feels tainted by the lingering deaths of those who came before.

And Lan Wangji wasn’t alone in his horror.

Jiang Wanyin’s face had gone ashen, his gaze fixed on the sky with wide eyes.

It was then that Wei Changze, whose ears were sharper than most, caught the whisper of the words Lan Wangji had uttered. His breath caught in his throat, and a cold rush of panic surged through him. “Did you just say Burial Mounds?” he demanded, his voice trembling with urgency.

“What?!” Cangse Sanren snapped, her voice sharp with disbelief and horror.

Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren’s sudden panic was mirrored by the others in the room.

Jiang Yanli, still paralyzed with fear, managed to speak, her voice low and shaken. “The Burial Mounds... but that place—it’s hell on earth. No one survives that...”

Lan Qiren, who had remained silent until now, narrowed his eyes, his lips tightening into a thin line. “The Wens have gone too far,” he muttered under her breath.

“H-How much…” Cangse Sanren’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper, but the anguish in it was unmistakable. Her breath hitched in her chest as her hand trembled at her side, her grief threatening to tear her apart. “Just how much is my son going to suffer like this?” Her voice cracked, and for a brief moment, it was as though the ground beneath her had given way. “What has he done to deserve such a cruel, brutal fate? How much longer…?”

For a while she watched her son fight, struggle, and push through so much, only for him to be cast aside so mercilessly by those he had once called allies. This—this was not the life she had hoped for for her son, All of this were pure cruelty! If Lan Wangji was true to his words, the thought of her son being dragged to that hellish place—where the lingering spirits of the dead devoured one’s very soul—crushed her.

No one in the room could speak because they all knew—none of them were innocent. Most of the cultivators here had, in some way, contributed to Wei Wuxian’s downfall. Some had trampled on his honor, turned away from the light of his true nature, and now they were forced to watch as the consequences of their actions played out in the cruelest of ways. The bitterness of it all left a sour taste in their mouths—no one was blameless, and no one could deny the role they had played in shaping Wei Wuxian’s tragic fate.

The scene abruptly shifted.

Now, they stood at the edge of a cliff, the sharp wind biting at their skin as they gazed out over the desolate landscape. All around them, jagged mountains pierced the heavens like the spines of some ancient, slumbering beast. Their dark, foreboding forms blended seamlessly into the suffocating blackness of the clouds that loomed overhead.

Beneath them, the valley stretched deep and endless, a yawning abyss that seemed to swallow any trace of light. The only hint of life was a faint, unsettling red glow, pulsing softly in the depths of the valley, as though the very earth below had been tainted by the vengeful spirits that roamed it.

An ocean of pressure surged through them, relentless and heavy. Their knees buckled, unable to withstand the oppressive force, and they collapsed onto the ground, struggling to remain conscious. The energy was so strong, and no one in the group could ignore its all-consuming presence.

They’re here—the Burial Mounds.

‘Is this what you felt, Wei Ying?’ he thought, his gaze lingering on the valley. ‘Is this the suffocating darkness you absorbed when you began to delve into resentful energy?’ The realization was chilling. To be here, to feel the press of this energy—it was no wonder that Wei Wuxian had been consumed by it.

Above them, the cawing of crows echoed through the air, their dark forms circling lazily above the cliff, indifferent to the chaos below.

Wen Chao stood arrogantly, his posture haughty and unmoved by the looming presence of the Burial Mounds. Wen Zhuliu, ever the stoic servant, remained utterly unfazed, his calm demeanor unshaken by the overwhelming energy.

But it was the sight of Wei Wuxian—thrown to the ground, lying at Wen Chao’s feet—that struck a cold, harsh chord in the air.

And for those watching, the horrific truth was undeniable—this was the place where Wei Wuxian had been forged in darkness.

“Wei Ying,” Wen Chao called out. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

Wei Wuxian forced himself to look up, then flinched.

“That’s right,” Wen Chao grinned. “The Burial Mounds.”

A loud crack resounded throughout the room. All eyes turned, startled by the sudden noise, their gazes snapping toward the source. Debris crumbled to the floor as the once-sturdy pillar beside Wei Changze splintered down the middle, its fractured halves threatening to collapse entirely.

Wei Changze stood rigid. The confirmation made his heart drop. His knuckles were bloodied, skin torn from the force of the blow. Even as resentful energy coursed through the room, weighing down on everyone, his fury burned hotter.

And yet, for all his strength, for all his pain, he was powerless.

He gazed at his sleeping son, longing gripping his chest—a desire to shield him from the world's relentless cruelty, to protect him against every harm that lay in wait. Yet, despite his wish to protect his son, the scars of the past—the pain he had endured—could never be erased that easily.

Completely unhindered, the simulated Wen Chao continued, “It’s right in Yiling. I’m sure even you Yunmeng people have heard about it. It’s a mountain of corpses—an ancient battleground. You’ll be able to dig up a corpse anywhere on this mountain.”

Besides being a battle ground for wars, the area had long been a dumping ground for unwanted corpses.

The resentful energy here was higher than anywhere else in the world.

“Look at the darkness in the air,” Wen Chao taunted, his smirk widening as he gestured toward the malevolent energy swirling around them. “Can you smell that resentment? Many people of all ages have tried to remove it. None of them has ever succeeded. Even the mighty Wen Sect couldn’t conquer it. All we could do was block it off, keep it at bay.”

His words dripped with mockery as he slammed his foot down on Wei Wuxian’s already battered form, forcing him against the cold, unyielding ground. Wei Wuxian coughed weakly.

“How dare you?!” Cangse Sanren’s voice rang out, reaching out to grab Wen Chao. But it was pointless. Her outstretched hand met nothing but air, stopped by the reality that this was nothing more than her son’s memory. She couldn’t touch Wen Chao, couldn’t stop him, couldn’t take her son’s place and bear the suffering herself. All she could do was watch.

“I swear to god if I see that ugly face in my dreams I’m burning him alive,” Jin Ling whispered, earning a soft scold from Yanli, and a bit of approving nod from his father, Jin Zixuan.

Wen Chao grabbed Wei Wuxian’s hair to pull him up, a grotesque grin on his face.

He pushed Wei Wuxian to the edge of the cliff.

“No,” Jiang Yanli whispered, forcing herself up on trembling arms. “Stop! This-”

“This isn’t right!” Jingyi and Zizhen gasped out, barely conscious under the pressure.

“Let him go!” Sizhui shouted angrily.

Even Lan Qiren couldn’t scold him when he felt the same sentiment as him.

“So you…” Wen Chao trailed off, his smirk widening with glee. “will never escape!”

In slow motion, Wen Chao pushed Wei Wuxian off the cliff, his hand holding out as if wanting to grasp onto something.

“Wei Ying!” Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze shouted, instantly sinking onto their knees to catch their son, but slamming against the floor instead.

Wei Wuxian fell down….

Down….

Until his silhouette was gone…

“No,” Cangse Sanren whispered in anguish, tears falling down her cheeks as Wei Changze embraced her tightly.

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli called out brokenly, tears also falling down her cheeks as she stood up to walk towards the screen as if to help her younger brother out, but Jin Zixuan and Jin Ling held her wrist tightly. Jin Ling had her eyes closed, unable to bear the scene, and Jin Zixuan chanted prayers, wishing for anyone to help him.

Jiang Wanyin also sank onto his knees, his frame trembling as his face morphed into a thousand emotions at once. ‘No,’ he thought, barely registering that he witnessed his brother fall into the burial mounds. With trembling hands, he covered his face. He wanted to vomit, to release his emotions, but he doesn’t even know what to do now. Even if he had his brother’s core in the past, he wouldn’t be able to save him at that moment. Look at how he’s affected—everyone’s affected with the resentful energy—despite it being in his brother’s memory only.

Fuck, despite being this strong, despite being a formidable leader now, is he still this weak?

Beside Jiang Wanyin, Lan Wangji’s composed facade shattered, silent tears streaming down his face as he cradled Wei Wuxian’s limp form. His hold was desperate, bordering on unrelenting, as though by sheer will he could anchor his husband to the mortal plane. His chest tightened with pain, every beat of his heart was a silent cry of despair.

The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt. He did not weep when his father refused his presence, nor shed a tear at his mother’s farewell, but he cried for Wei Ying, for his unyielding kindness, his endless suffering, his bravery.

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen watched him, their hearts heavy and torn at the sight of his silent tears. It was not the first time they had witnessed him cry, yet this was something else entirely—a soundless grief louder than any sob could have been.

The suffocating weight that had settled over them lifted in an instant as the memory shifted back to the forest where Wei Wuxian had last been seen. 

In the heart of the clearing, Wei Wuxian’s clarity bell lay discarded on the grass. Beside it, a dark stain of blood marred the grass. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves as someone moved through the forest's grounds.

Everyone present tensed, their breaths hitching as hope flickered alive in their hearts. Could it be help? Or perhaps Jiang Wanyin had finally descended the mountain to aid in the search. 

“Please, let it be A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli whispered fervently, her hands clasped together in a desperate prayer. 

Pure white robes emerged from the shadows.

“Wangji?” Lan Qiren's usually composed demeanor faltered, his eyes widening in surprise. Though he knew Lan Wangji had been searching for Wei Wuxian, he hadn’t anticipated him investigating this specific area. A pang of regret crossed Lan Qiren’s mind—if Lan Wangji had arrived sooner, perhaps he might have intervened, might have prevented the horrors that had unfolded here. 

Yet, Lan Qiren’s thoughts darkened further. Even someone as skilled and disciplined as Lan Wangji would have been powerless against the likes of Wen Zhuliu. Perhaps it was a cruel mercy that Wangji had not been present, spared from an inevitable defeat. 

Lan Wangji stepped into the clearing, his gaze falling upon the clarity bell that lay so innocently amidst the devastation. His usually impassive expression shattered, despair etched plainly across his features. 

Lan Wangji vividly recalled that day, the creeping dread that had begun to convince him of the unthinkable—that Wei Wuxian might have truly died.

Now, seeing these haunting remnants of that memory, the weight of it all crashed over him, and despair consumed his heart anew.

Lan Wangji extended a trembling hand toward the bell and drawing it close to his chest.

“Lan-er-gongzi,” a voice called softly from behind, breaking the stillness. “According to the villagers, Wei-gongzi and Jiang-gongzi were seen passing through this area a few days ago. Our search has been exhaustive, but so far, we’ve found no trace of them.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers tightened around the clarity bell, his knuckles paling with the force of his grip. After a moment, he carefully tucked it inside his robes.

The subtle tremor in Lan Wangji’s movements did not escape Lan Xichen’s notice. His heart clenched at the sight of his younger brother, a boy of only seventeen, burdened with the weight of responsibility far beyond his years. His brother should not have to bear such a burden while grappling with the possibility of losing someone so dear to him. 

Wei Wuxian was seventeen too, Lan Xichen realized with a pang of sorrow—just a boy swept up in a torrent of violence and tragedy. The thought was almost unbearable. 

Lan Xichen forced himself to steady his breathing, to suppress the ache that threatened to consume him. These children had endured hardships he could scarcely fathom. It was a humbling realization, one that left him feeling small and ashamed for ever comparing his own struggles to theirs. 

To Wei Wuxian’s, especially. 

The Lan disciple who had spoken earlier hesitated, his brows furrowing as silence stretched thin between them. “Are they…?” he ventured cautiously, the unspoken question hanging in the air. 

Lan Wangji offered no reply. His gaze shifted upward, fixing on the expanse of sky above.

“Wei Ying,” his lips moved in a barely audible whisper, carrying a name like a prayer.

Wei Changze stepped forward, his face etched with a weary gratitude. He inclined his head toward Lan Wangji. “Thank you,” he said quietly, “for searching for them, for A-Ying.”

Lan Wangji met his gaze, nodding in acknowledgment, though inwardly, he dismissed the need for such gratitude. How could Wei Changze thank him for doing something that felt as essential as breathing? Searching for Wei Wuxian was not an obligation but an instinct, a truth etched into his very soul—he could not do otherwise. 

Behind them, Yu Ziyuan glared at the screen, her expression cold and unreadable. The scene before her had left no room for doubt. The truth was undeniable now—the Wens would have targeted Lotus Pier regardless of Wei Wuxian’s behaviour.

A sharp scoff escaped her lips, betraying the bitterness that churned within. Inwardly, her thoughts bristled with resentment, ‘So what, am I supposed to praise that brat for being utterly incapable of error?’ her jaw tightened. ‘Damn realizations! Damn brat!’

Her grip tightened on her sleeves, the fabric straining under the pressure of her fingers, a tangible outlet for the storm raging within her. As much as her pride refused to yield, a small, unwelcome pang of guilt wormed its way into her heart. ‘Now the brat is trapped in the Burial Mounds…’

In the twentieth year of Xuanzheng’s reign, the Yunmeng Jiang Clan met its devastating end. This marked a turning point in the chaos. The Qishan Wen Clan, emboldened by their growing dominion, became increasingly ruthless in their actions. Supervisory offices were established across the land. Any defiance, no matter how slight, was met with swift and brutal retribution. Villages burned, families were torn apart, and blood flowed like water, staining the ground in a crimson tide that seemed unending. 

Each and every one of them felt a whirlwind of emotions—grief, rage, helplessness—all colliding with relentless intensity. For the Wens, killing and displaying their power were as easy as breathing. It was as if they thrived in the chaos they created, feeding off the fear and suffering they imposed upon others. 

Their cruelty knew no limits, no boundaries. Many were relieved to have lived beyond the reach of their oppressive rule. If any of them had been born during the height of the Wens’ power, they feared they wouldn’t have survived. Even the younger disciples recognized their own limitations, knowing that if they had been thrust into the chaos of the Sunshot Campaign, they would have been powerless. Even now, they still relied heavily on their elders during night hunts.

Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Sizhui carried the memory of their past. They had witnessed and experienced the cruelty and brutality firsthand. It scarred them to life. It was terrifying, it wasn’t easy, and it was definitely something they would never forget.

“Jinlintai, Lanling City,” The memory continued.

Madam Jin, Jin Zixuan, and Jin Ling straightened up.

Then, sounds of laughter filled the air—a chorus of carefree, mocking voices belonging to a group of women.

A low growl escaped Madam Jin’s throat, her disdain unmistakable.

Jin Guangshan sat leisurely in a pavilion, surrounded on all sides by young girls adorned with the Jin’s peonies delicately tucked into their hair.

Both Yu Ziyuan and Madam Jin shared a simultaneous scoff, their disdain perfectly aligned, though neither was surprised by the spectacle. Jin Zixuan exhaled slowly, disappointment etched deeply into his features, while Jin Ling stood frozen in disgust.

‘This is my old man?’ Jin Ling thought to himself. Stories of his grandfather had circulated through generations—none of them flattering—but witnessing the reality firsthand was another level entirely. ‘No wonder Jiujiu’s face scrunches up in disgust every time I bring him up. I get it now. The man’s reputation is a mess, and now I have to live with the legacy.’

“Clan Leader,” one giggled, sitting on his lap and feeding him a cherry.

“Ew,” Mianmian gagged, her face twisting in disgust. 

“Second only to Wen Chao,” Nie Huaisang quipped with a sly smirk.

“They probably share a handbook on how to be the worst,” A-Qing added with dry sarcasm, raising an eyebrow.

“Clan Leader! Clan Leader!” a more frantic voice called out, urgency thick in the air.

Jin Zixuan followed the sound, his brow furrowing at the sight of the older disciple’s terrified expression.

“What is it?” Jin Guangshan snapped, his tone sharp and impatient, his gaze darkening with irritation. “Did Lan Qiren come to persuade me to cooperate again? Tell him I’m out.”

“What?” Lan Qiren muttered under his breath, his irritation rising quickly. He vividly recalled the countless times Jin Guangshan had dismissed his requests for an audience. To witness this scene only deepened his irritation towards Jin Guangshan.

“Of course he doesn’t want to cooperate,” Jiang Fengmian responded calmly. “He wants to be Wen Ruohan’s lapdog—no spine, no loyalty, just empty ambition.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes narrowed at Jiang Fengmian’s words. Of course, he knew this. The thought of Jin Guangshan’s willingness to debase himself for power was nothing new.

Jiang Fengmian then continued, “Wen Ruohan feeds on weak men like Jin Guangshan. They offer him power without question, content to be pawns in his game.”

“Well, he didn’t just become a pawn,” Nie Huaisang interjected with irritation. “He became the Chief Cultivator when Wen Ruohan died. It was the worst, serving a man like him who does not deserve such a title.”

Jiang Fengmian’s expression tightened slightly at the mention of Wen Ruohan, but he did not refute the truth of Nie Huaisang’s words.

“N-No, Clan Leader,” the disciple stammered, his voice trembling with urgency. “It’s about Qishan. The Qishan Wen Clan has sent a message.”

“Ah? What is it?”

Nie Mingjue snapped, his tone sharp and biting. “Hah! You really are Wen Ruohan’s lapdog!”

“They… want to establish a supervisory office here.”

“So it has come to this,” Madam Jin murmured under her breath, her voice tinged with weariness. It was already obvious from the previous memory that the Wen Clan’s supervisory office will extended far beyond Yunmeng, imposing their control over other clans as well.

“You’ll have to submit all our great weapons within five days,” the disciple added, his voice faltering. “Or… or….”

“Or what?” Jin Guangshan finally broke his silence, frowning.

“Or we will face the same fate… as the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng.”

Jin Guangshan merely sighed, a weary, almost dismissive sound. “No need for that. Send word to His Excellency. I would like to meet with him.”

“You are the worst,” Jin Ling muttered under his breath, his fists clenched tightly in anger. Lan Qiren, no doubt, had sought an audience with his grandfather to establish alliances—to fight against the Wens and perhaps organize a search party for Wei Wuxian and his jiujiu. His Dajiu was still out there, trapped in the Burial Mounds, enduring unbearable suffering and pain! The thought of his Dajiu suffering alone while one clan is hesitating gnawed at his soul.

‘What the hell are you doing?! Do something!’ he thought furiously, his gaze burning with frustration as he looked at his despicable grandfather.

Cangse Sanren scoffed, her voice sharp and mocking. “Yeah, I agree, Nie Mingjue. He truly is a lapdog. I should’ve punched him harder in the past.”

“What? You fought with him?” Wei Changze asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Who didn’t she fight in the past, is the right question,” Lan Qiren interjected, sighing heavily with exasperation.

The world around them then started to fade into the black of night. The only sound in the tranquil landscape was the rushing of one of the Cloud Recesses’ waterfalls.

“We’re back in Gusu,” Madam Lan whispered, her face lighting up a bit.

Meanwhile, the sight filled Lan Xichen with an intense homesickness. Although they had been inside the simulation for hours already, it truly felt like years had passed.

Guqin music rang through the air as Lan Wangji’s experienced hands began to strum. The player’s talent was undeniable.

“Ah, Lan-xiong, it sounds so nice~” Nie Huaisang commented, an appreciator of the arts as always.

“Not for entertainment,” Lan Wangji responded.

A moment later, the meaning behind those words became clear. Lan Wangji was playing inquiry, pulling in spirits from all around to answer his call. Glowing balls of condensed spiritual energy began gathering around him, attracted to the sound like crows to jewels.

At the end of a riverbank just outside the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji sat and played, joined only by a single Lan elder. Once the spirits came into range, they began floating idly around him, observing the area.

One of the first things they noticed was the clarity bell presented to them on a nearby rock.

At the reminder of what had happened to Wei Wuxian, all of the cultivators’ mood faltered.

After all, no one could survive the Burial Mounds. It didn’t matter what those civilians in the first segment said; it was suicide to go there. But somehow, Wei Wuxian survived. They did not know how he did, but it was really a miracle. However, it’s also kind of sad and worrying as they knew what will happen next. What might come out of the Burial Mounds soon will soon be the hero and the nightmare of the cultivation world.

Having given the spirits ample time to observe the bell, Lan Wangji finally asked his question.

He waited, and one of the spirits ventured forward to answer.

It bounced lightly on a guqin string, then backed off.

Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, and Lan Qiren’s face fell.

Qingheng-jun also sighed in disappointment.

“What does it say?” Madam Lan asked, but Qingheng-jun only shook his head.

Footsteps began to approach, and he instantly turned towards them.

Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren tensed, praying that there wouldn’t be an intruder aiming for Wangji.

Silently, Lan Wangji stood up, preparing for a possible confrontation with the intruder. A moment later, a man stepping into the clearing, and Lan Wangji’s tension instantly switched to shock.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Wangji breathed out, relief rushing into him at once.

“Sect Leader Lan is back!” Jingyi’s voice rang out with genuine joy.

“Welcome back, Sect Leader Lan!” Zizhen echoed, his expression bright with relief.

“It’s so good to see you safe, Sect Leader Lan,” Sizhui added, his smile warm and comforting.

“I am grateful for your concern,” Lan Xichen said softly.

“Da-gongzi!” the Lan disciple beside Lan Wangji proclaimed, his entire demeanor lighting up. And indeed, Lan Xichen stood before them, looking completely unharmed.

Madam Lan, Qingheng-jun, and Lan Qiren simultaneously sighed in relief. This whole time, they had not wondered, but only waited—waited for Xichen to appear after he had managed to escape. To see him unharmed was a rare comfort amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

Qingheng-jun gently placed his hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder, giving it a firm yet reassuring grip, as if to silently convey the unspoken words: ‘Thank God, you’re okay.’

Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji also felt the same way.

Madam Lan’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her lips trembling slightly as she reached out to gently touch her son’s face.

Lan Xichen smiled softly, his heart swelling with affection for his family.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen greeted. “I trust you’ve been well.”

A moment later, Lan Wangji managed to ease the shock on his face and return to his usual blank expression. He bowed lowly, saluting his brother.

“Xiongzhang,” he whispered.

No one else could perceive it, but the unmistakable relief lingering on his brother’s face brought a surge of warmth to Lan Xichen’s heart. He then moved closer to his younger brother, as though offering a silent, comforting gesture.

Surprisingly, despite Lan Wangji’s usual reserved demeanor and the limited expression of affection he showed toward his older brother, he subtly leaned in closer to Lan Xichen, mirroring his actions in a rare moment of connection.

Lan Xichen’s smile softened, acknowledging the unspoken gesture. Though Lan Wangji rarely exhibited outward displays of emotion, this small act spoke volumes in its own quiet way.

“I heard someone playing inquiry and knew it was you,” Lan Xichen commented, then hesitated. “It seems Wei-gongzi is still missing.”

Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze clenched their fists at the reminder.

“But it’s so strange,” the unknown Lan disciple muttered. “It’s been several days, and we’ve found plenty of information regarding Jiang-gongzi, but nothing about Wei-gongzi. Has he been caught by the Wen Clan or not?”

Mianmian’s earlier gasp of shock was shared by many. “Several days?” she repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief and worry.

Xiao Xingchen’s brow furrowed deeply, his concern evident in his voice. “If he’s been there this long…” he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“A-Ying,” Cangse Sanren whimpered, her voice breaking.

‘Even though Lan Wangji possesses unparalleled spiritual prowess, summoning all the spirits from the places he traverses would ultimately prove futile,’ Nie Huaisang thought solemnly. The true spirits he seeks reside within the Burial Mounds. Even someone as gifted as him would find it a daunting challenge to penetrate such malevolence.

“Lan-er-gongzi has been asking everyone we see, including the deceased, but there hasn’t been a single clue about Wei-gongzi. It’s like he just disappeared,” one cultivator murmured with a heavy sigh.

Graceful as ever, Lan Wangji remained composed despite the somber situation. With a steady hand, he reached forward to gently pick up Wei Wuxian’s clarity bell.

Staring down at the clarity bell, Lan Wangji’s voice was calm but resolute, “Whether he’s dead or alive, there will be clues somewhere. We will find an answer.”

The certainty in his tone resonated through the group. Cangse Sanren, her voice barely a whisper, bowed slightly in gratitude. Wei Changze and the other cultivators who had grown close to Wei Wuxian followed suit, their heads lowered in silent respect.

Lan Wangji offered a single, composed nod in acknowledgment, yet a quiet discomfort lingered beneath his calm exterior. His past actions had not earned such gratitude, but perhaps it was not solely his efforts they were thanking. Perhaps, in their eyes, his unwavering determination and refusal to give up on Wei Wuxian were what truly mattered.

After a deliberate pause, Lan Wangji turned with practiced grace. With a fluid sweep of his sleeve, the gathered spirits dispersed into the wind, their presence fading like echoes of a memory. He bowed slightly to the spirits, his quiet gratitude conveyed without words.

“Wei-gongzi is strong and clever,” Lan Xichen remarked, his tone carrying a gentle reassurance that felt more like hope than certainty. “He’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” Jiang Yanli agreed, her voice soft and trembling as she nodded. “He’ll be fine. He will be.” Yet, despite her words, they sounded hollow—less a statement of faith and more an attempt to convince herself of their truth.

“He survived the Xuanwu Cave,” a cultivator piped up, his voice strained.

“But this is different,” Wen Qing snapped, her frustration palpable. “The Xuanwu Cave was a challenge of endurance and wit. The Burial Mounds? It’s a pit of unrelenting malevolence! No one survives that! I don’t even wanna know how he survive being trapped in there.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Jiang Wanyin argued. “Wei Wuxian is no ordinary cultivator. He always finds a way.”

“And how exactly will he do that?” Wen Qing countered sharply. “This isn't a remote battlefield where strength and strategy suffice, nor a forest where he can simply forage for sustenance. This is the Burial Mounds. Do you truly believe even Wei Wuxian can face that on his own?”

“Lady Wen is right,” Nie Huaisang added, his expression unusually solemn. “Even if Wei-xiong is a prodigy, unmatched in intellect and skill, the Burial Mounds are no ordinary place. The overwhelming evil there isn’t something that can be reasoned with or conquered by talent alone. Facing it alone is like daring fate itself. No matter how brilliant or skilled, no one could walk away from such a place unscathed.”

Nie Huaisang’s words only increased everyone’s worry.

Lan Wangji’s gaze fell to the ground, unresponsive.

Seeing that his earlier reassurance had failed to ease the tension, Lan Xichen pressed on, his tone steady yet concerned. “A few months ago, I heard that you and Uncle had begun efforts to unite the clans. How much progress have you managed to achieve?”

Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian perked up, their interest evident.

“Most clans remain hesitant and have yet to make any definitive commitments,” Lan Wangji responded, his voice calm and measured.

Lan Qiren scoffed, his frustration barely concealed. He understood all too well why some clans hesitated—fear of reprisal from the Wens was a heavy burden to bear. However, in times of such dire crisis, hesitation and fear could not be afforded. Without unity, the clans stood no chance of reclaiming their autonomy or protecting the very ideals they sought to uphold.

“Cowards,” Nie Mingjue snapped.

On the other hand, unaware that the Sunshot Campaign would be successful, Lan Xichen seemed to deflate at the clans’ hesitance.

“That isn’t a surprise,” he admitted. “The Qishan Wen clan is powerful. They destroyed the Yunmeng Jiang Clan in a single night. Not every clan will have the courage to face them.”

“Well, there is someone,” one cultivator said cautiously, his tone heavy with implication.

“If the person you’re referring to is the same one I’m thinking of right now,” Sizhui began, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity, “is it true he wiped out the Wens in just one night?”

The cultivator hesitated, his expression darkening slightly before he replied, “It wasn’t only one night… but yes, he did kill a significant number in that single night.”

The weight of his words settled over the room like a cold mist, sending a collective shiver down the spines of those listening.

The younger disciples exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mix of awe and fear.

“Unbelievable,” Jingyi murmured under his breath. 

“And terrifying,” Zizhen then added quietly. 

The dark clouds which had covered the moon were swept away. Moonlight entered the grotto in which the Lans stood, allowing their white robes to shine in the night. Seeing the sweet glow, Lan Wangji couldn’t help but be reminded of the playful gleam in Wei Wuxian’s silver eyes.

Lan Wangji lifted his gaze, his voice calm but resolute, “The Wen Clan’s power will not endure forever.”

Hearing his words, Lan Xichen’s lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile.

Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren’s expressions softened with approval as they regarded Lan Wangji, a glimmer of pride in their gazes. 

Suddenly, a voice broke through the solemn atmosphere.

“Just wait until Wei Wuxian shows up! He will kill all of you!” a cultivator shouted, his words ringing with fervor. The room stirred, and soon others began to echo his cry, their voices rising in a chorus of desperate hope. 

Baoshan Sanren, who had been silently observing, turned her piercing gaze upon the crowd. Her expression was a mixture of calm and quiet disdain. Slowly, her eyes swept over each person in the room.

“You ridiculed him, and now you cheer for him, as though your words were not daggers in his back. Do you all have no shame, or do you simply bend to the winds of power and convenience?” she said, her voice steady but laced with reproach.

The cultivators who had been cheering just moments ago immediately fell silent. Their heads lowered in shame, their expressions guilty and subdued, intimidated by Baoshan Sanren’s piercing gaze. 

“Tell me, how many of you would stand with him now, not as spectators, but as allies willing to risk everything?” She paused. No one responded immediately, but she knew—she could see it in their eyes—the few who might be willing to stand by Wei Wuxian’s side.

“Of course, now you’re eager to call yourselves allies because you’re starting to glimpse the truth. However, what right do you all have to cheer for him now? Is he someone you can simply embrace as a savior, after having cast him aside when he needed you all most? When the world turned against him, where were your voices of support? Were you there to defend him, to stand by him through the darkest moments?”

The room remained quiet, each cultivator contemplating her words, their faces a mixture of regret and contemplation. Some shifted uneasily, while others looked down, unable to meet her gaze.

“Good,” Baoshan Sanren remarked, her back turned to them. "Your support is as insubstantial as hollow words from a deceitful merchant.”

Now, the memory was transported back to Gusu, inside the Lan Clan Conference Hall. Dozens of Sect Leaders from minor and major sects were seated around, and Lan Qiren stood in the center.

“Everyone,” he greeted sternly. “The Qishan Wen Clan has pushed us too far. If you continue to stand back, you’ll soon find yourselves in the line of fire.”

As they listened, the other sect leaders made eye contact with each other.

Then, a laugh.

“Lan-xiansheng, our presence here proves we want to discuss it. It’s just….”

“Sect Leader Jin, what are you trying to say?”

“Don’t spout nonsense, A-Die,” Jin Zixuan whispered. Praying to god that his father will not provoke Lan Qiren.

Madam Jin seems to be having the same thought as she glared at her husband, crossing her arms, anticipating what he’s going to say.

But Jin Guangshan merely fluttered his fan delicately, explaining, “In my humble opinion, we shouldn’t be too hasty in fighting against the Wen Clan. It may be bad timing.”

“Just say you’re a coward,” Cangse Sanren cursed.

Yu Ziyuan, for once, thought the same.

“I agree,” another Sect Leader said. “We still have time to think it through.”

As he spoke the scene was switched to the path leading to the conference hall, where a hooded figure walked with Lan Xichen. The figure’s face was shrouded in shadow, but their stride was confident and sure.

“Who is that?” Jingyi asked, curious.

“Maybe someone Sect Leader Lan knows?” Zizhen responded.

“No, I think I know who that is,” Sizhui said, his eyes turning to a certain someone.

The sect leader continued, “If we really provoke Wen Ruohan, then there’s no way out.”

“Timing?” Lan Qiren repeated, his tone sharp. “A way out? You’re suggesting we surrender our treasures and live under their supervision?” 

A deep, mocking laughter echoed through the room in response to his words. 

“Forgive me for being blunt,” Nie Mingjue began, his tone unyielding. “But if we hand over our weapons and techniques to Wen Ruohan, we’ll be nothing more than lambs waiting for slaughter!” 

“He’s not wrong,” Song Lan agreed, his expression stoic.

Jiang Fengmian clenched his fists.

As they spoke to each other, the sect leader who had commented huffed in indignation at Nie Mingjue.

“How dare-”

“Now, now,” Jin Guangshan placated. “Everyone calm down. I just mean we should avoid direct confrontation. Qingheng-jun was also powerful, and the Gusu Lan clan is one of the strongest, but the end result of the Wens' attack remained as expected.”

The door swung open.

“Thank you for your generous praise,” Lan Xichen said, voice alight with easy humor. “In my opinion, a lack of capabilities isn’t an excuse to avoid one’s enemies.”

Madam Lan, Qingheng-jun, Nie Mingjue, and Cangse Sanren couldn’t agree more.

Jingyi, ever eager to agree with his senior, chimed in enthusiastically, “That’s right! Running away doesn’t solve anything!”

“Yeah!” Jin Ling added with fiery determination. “You can’t simply surrender to Wen’s power and dominance like this! Don’t be cowards, you little shits!”

“A-Ling, don’t curse.”

“Sorry, A-Die. It had to be said.”

Lan Qiren’s face lit up into a genuine smile when he saw who had arrived.

“From what you just said,” Lan Xichen continued, “does the Lanling Jin clan plan to surrender and serve the Wen clan?”

Nie Mingjue’s lips curled into a smirk as he exchanged a knowing glance with Lan Xichen. ‘Someone like him needed to hear those words,’ he thought, barely containing his satisfaction at the directness of the question.

The room fell silent, a tension settling over the gathered sect leaders and disciples. Some of the younger disciples exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief. Lan Xichen, known for his gentle demeanor and diplomatic nature, had rarely ever confronted anyone so bluntly. To see it was very surprising.

“What?” Jin Guangshan instantly backed up, clearing his throat and looking away.

Jin Zixuan smirked. He may be Jin Guangshan’s son, but he was definitely pleased by this.

“Greetings Uncle, clan leaders,” Lan Xichen bowed.

“Xichen. I heard that you were coming back. Why are you so late?” Lan Qiren asked.

Lan Xichen responded, “Ah, I had to deal with something on my way back. I’m sorry I caused you to worry.”

Lan Xichen frowned, remembering the ‘something’ he had to deal with.

Lan Qiren extended a hand and placed it gently on Lan Xichen’s shoulder. “It’s alright. I’m glad you’ve returned. It’s been… months. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for you.”

“You’re the one who’s had to work hard,” Xichen replied, smiling warmly.

“Lan-gongzi!” someone interrupted snidely. “That’s easy for you to say, but the Yunmeng Jiang Clan put up a fight recklessly and ended up being destroyed!”

Yu Ziyuan frowned, her lips curling into a scornful sneer, "Recklessly? Do you call defending one’s home and people reckless? Or is it easier for cowards to label courage as folly, just so they can sleep at night?"

As Yu Ziyuan’s words echoed in the room, Jiang Fengmian felt a torrent of thoughts invade his mind, each one more agonizing than the last. He should have returned sooner. They should have been better prepared. They should have fought back harder. The regrets piled upon each other, a relentless cascade of "what-ifs" and "should-haves" that offered no solace.

Then, the hooded figure scoffed.

“So you’re saying that if there’s no chance of victory you’re willing to submit to the Qishan Wen Clan?”

“Wait a minute-”

“That voice!” Jiang Yanli stood.

“Who are you?!” one of the sect leaders demanded, his voice sharp with suspicion. 

In response, the cloaked figure reached up and pushed back the hood, revealing Jiang Cheng standing tall and resolute.

“A-Cheng!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed, her voice breaking with both joy and relief. Her face lit up, and she clasped her hands together, unable to contain her happiness. 

Jiang Fengmian exhaled deeply, the tension in his posture melting away as relief flooded his features. He could feel his chest swell with pride at the sight of his son, standing firm and composed. 

Even Yu Ziyuan allowed a rare moment of softness to cross her face. Her sharp eyes traced over Jiang Cheng, taking in his confident stance and the way he held himself with the authority of a true leader.

“Jiang-xiong!”

“Jiujiu!”

The energy in the room shifted as smiles broke out among the gathered cultivators.

Well, for most of them. 

Wei Changze narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘He’s not suicidal anymore,’ he noted inwardly, his gaze lingering on Jiang Wanyin’s steady posture. Then his eyes turned to the current Jiang Wanyin, observing him as well.

Unmistakable evidence revealed itself—Jiang Cheng’s spiritual core was restored.

He was not happy about this in the slightest, especially Cangse Sanren.

“Sect Leader Jiang!” The simulated sect leaders reacted in shock.

Despite the painful reminder of the Jiang Clan’s fall, Yu Ziyuan couldn’t help but smile inwardly. Her son, after all, was undeniably worthy of such a title.

Jiang Fengmian, however, did not share her sentiment. He felt conflicted. To him, the weight of that title carried burdens far heavier than any sense of pride could justify. His son was still too young to bear the responsibilities of leadership, and the circumstances that had thrust him into this role were far from ideal. Leadership should have been something Jiang Cheng grew into gradually, not something forced upon him by the destruction of their clan and the weight of survival.

Though proud of his son’s resilience, Jiang Fengmian is still worried for him.  

“Of course you can say such things! The Yunmeng Jiang Clan has already been destroyed!” Sect Leader Yao yelled, causing Jiang Wanyin’s mouth to switch into a scowl. “We’re different! We need to protect our clansmen!”

“Right,” Jiang Wanyin forced his mouth into a smirk. “Everyone has different ideas. You may think it’s fine to make slaves and prostitutes of your people, and you may be willing to do and tolerate anything for as long as you continue to live.”

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he watched the heated exchange unfold on the screen.

A sharp smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as Jiang Cheng’s biting retort hit home, responding, “Well, that’s one way to shut someone up.”

Lan Xichen’s lips twitched in amusement, adding, “He certainly has a way with words.”

Jiang Wanyin smiled at Lan Xichen’s remark.

Madam Jin then scoffed, “Sometimes a good verbal slap is more effective than sugarcoated nonsense. Sect Leader Yao definitely deserves it.” 

Jingyi, perched nearby, snorted. “Did you see his face? I thought his nose was going to start bleeding from sheer indignation.”

“How do you even respond to that,” Zizhen wondered, chuckling beside Jingyi.

The sect leader reacted in indignation, standing up.

“Jiang Cheng!” Sect Leader Yao shouted. “Don’t push your luck! You’re trying so hard to persuade us. You just want to seek revenge even if it means taking us down with you!”

“That’s right! I want revenge!”

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli whispered mournfully. Jiang Cheng turned his gaze toward her, his expression faltering for a moment under the weight of her concern. She knew her younger brother shouldn't be burdened with thoughts like this.

Revenge wasn’t surprising to her—it was a natural response to the pain they’d endured—but it was dangerous. Even though she was aware of some of the events that had unfolded prior to the Sunshot Campaign, she couldn’t help but fear for him.

Jiang Wanyin then gave his sister a small, fleeting smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes—before turning his attention back to the screen. The desperation lingering in his gaze was so profound, so raw, that it was almost unbearable, heart-breaking to witness.

Jiang Wanyin took a deep breath, his jaw tightening with determination as he hissed, “As long as I can destroy the Wen Clan, I’m willing to do anything! If you don’t have the courage to join me, then sit back and wait for Wen Ruohan to crush you!”

The room grew tense as some cultivators began whispering in agreement.

“Right,” Jin Zixuan nodded, his expression firm. “Stand up for what you believe is right. Honestly, father was so foolish to avoid confrontation. If we don’t fight back now, what will be left of us?”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Madam Jin added smoothly, her voice steady and composed.

Jiang Wanyin’s face contorted slightly at the sound of his brother-in-law’s support. He cringed inwardly, not quite comfortable with the notion of having family express approval for his fierce stance.

Lan Xichen raised a hand, calmly yet firmly reminding Jiang Wanyin to tone it back. “Wen Ruohan is suspicious and cautious. We all know that. If we compromise now, we will only invite greater trouble in the future.”

“Well said!” Nie Mingjue slammed his cup onto the table with a decisive thud. “I’ll make this clear right now. Whether you join me or not, I swear I will kill Wen Ruohan!”

“So passionate,” Nie Huaisang teased, leaning back with a mischievous grin.

Nie Mingjue shot him a sharp glare, his expression colder than ever, “Watch your tongue, Huaisang. I don’t have time for your teasing.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged, feigning innocence, “I’m just stating facts. Someone has to keep things light around here, don’t you think?”

“This should have been the right mindset to have at the time,” Song Lan chimed in.

“I agree,” Lan Xichen added thoughtfully.

Nodding once, Lan Xichen saluted Nie Mingjue, saying, “Sect Leader Nie is a righteous man. I’m impressed by your courage. Our Gusu Lan Clan will do the same.”

Qingheng-jun let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. He had died too early. If only he had been alive during those desperate times, he would have stood beside them. Yet, knowing how he had withdrawn from the cultivation world, he doubted he would have ever joined the war.

Still, the regret gnawed at him. He wasn’t strong enough to defend his home, to protect his family, His sons, his brother, the ones left behind, had faced a battle that he could not protect them from. It was a painful reminder of his limitations, a failure that lingered like an unyielding shadow.

“Lan Clan did not have enough manpower, and we were caught off guard during the attack,” Lan Qiren said.

Qingheng-jun snapped from his thoughts and let out a slow breath, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile. A flicker of relief washed over him. There was comfort in knowing that the circumstances were beyond his control, that it wasn’t his fault that the Lan Clan was defeated.

Jin Guangshan anxiously began to look around.

Seeing Jin Guangshan's unease, Lan Qiren’s voice cut through the growing anxiety. “Anyone who decides to join us should speak now, here, before the whole world. If one hesitates and joins halfway through, we will need to discuss whether they should be rewarded or punished once the fighting ends.”

Jin Guangshan’s scanning eyes came to an abrupt halt, his gaze locking onto Lan Qiren. For a moment, he seemed lost for words.

“How can we possibly win against Wen Ruohan with just the clans that are present?” Jin Guangshan finally managed, his voice strained with skepticism.

Wen Ruohan was an exceptionally powerful cultivator. His mastery over cultivation, combined with his unyielding ambition, had elevated him to the position of chief cultivator. Yet, even among his formidable strength, the presence of Wen Zhuliu on his side was an entirely different matter.

These two together in a battlefield would be unstoppable.

Cangse Sanren’s frustration bubbled to the surface, scowling, “That cowardice will kill you someday!”

“That’s why he’s dead,” Madam Jin said, her expression nonchalant.

However, Lan Xichen didn’t miss a beat and steadily responded, “The Wen Clan may be powerful, but their people are not as loyal as they think. We can persuade the clans they have enslaved to join us.”

And yet, Jin Guangshan continued to hesitate, his sharp eyes betraying an undercurrent of doubt.

Observing the exchange, Sizhui quietly reflected to himself, ‘A-Ling’s courage must undoubtedly come from Sect Leader Jiang.’

“But I doubt any of them would take the risk of fighting against the Wen Clan.”

Lan Xichen’s expression did not falter. Instead, he let out a pleasant, almost knowing laugh. Without a word, he raised his hand, gesturing toward the doors.

“Perhaps you should see for yourself,” Lan Xichen said, his voice laced with quiet confidence. 

The scene change, bringing them outside to a nearby hill overlooking the grounds below the conference chamber. What they saw made the assembled clan leaders rise to their feet in stunned silence. 

Hundreds of cultivators were marching up the hill in orderly ranks. The sound of synchronized footsteps and rustling robes filled the air. As the group drew nearer, their banners became visible, representing various smaller clans.

Mianmian’s eyes widened, her earlier anxiousness momentarily eclipsed by astonishment. “This… this is…” she stammered, unable to fully articulate her disbelief. 

“Is this for real?” Madam Lan whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of relief and awe as her gaze swept over the gathering forces. 

“How did you manage to gather so many clans in such a short amount of time?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief. 

For months, Lan Xichen had vanished. The time he spent away could not be called short, but neither did it feel like an eternity—it was a delicate balance between urgency and meticulous preparation. Perhaps it was his determination to stand against the oppressive might of the Wen Clan that had driven him.

Lan Xichen turned to his father, and responded, “I couldn’t just do nothing while I escaped, so I thought of a plan.”

Nie Mingjue’s lips curved into a smirk, “That was really a good plan, Xichen,” he praised, approval evident in his tone. “The greater our numbers, the greater our chances of success. And this? This is a good start.” 

As the gathered cultivators murmured amongst themselves, one unknown voice broke through the crowd. “Are they even strong enough to make a difference?” the cultivator asked, his doubt clear. 

The question sparked irritation in Jingyi, who stepped forward with an annoyed huff. “Hey,” he began. “What kind of question is that? Does a clan need overwhelming strength to deserve a place in an alliance? Is that really what matters here?” 

Sizhui, who had been quietly observing, stepped in to temper the rising tension. “Sometimes,” he began, his tone thoughtful, “what matters isn’t the power a clan holds, but the resolve in their hearts, the unity they bring, and the courage to fight against injustice.”

Lan Qiren nodded in agreement, his serene expression softening. Lan Sizhui is really the perfect embodiment of the Lan Clan’s ideals—graceful in demeanor, measured in thought, and unwavering in his sense of justice.

“God, how humiliating is this—that a child possesses more wisdom than you do,” Wen Qing whispered.

The cultivator in question fixed a sharp glare on Wen Qing, but before the tension could escalate, Wen Ning stepped forward, positioning himself as a shield and meeting the man’s gaze with an equally piercing glare.

Lan Xichen smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on the advancing forces. “The initial army of the Sunshot Campaign,” he said, his tone even, though a glimmer of satisfaction shone in his eyes. “It seems that courage still exists in places one might least expect.” 

The clans began to announce themselves.

“Ouyang Xin from Baling! The Qishan Wen Clan ruined our ancestral shrine and killed my clansmen! Thanks to Lan-er-gongzi, we were able to survive. Now, I bring with me hundreds of clasmen to join you!”

“Wang Jin from Runan! The Wen Clan killed my family and insulted my sisters. I came here at Lan-er-gongzi’s invitation! I swear to help destroy the Wen Clan!” 

“Fu Huan from Hedong! Lan-er-gongzi helped me, too! I have over 200 people ready to join you!” 

Some cultivators lowered their heads, their expressions reflecting a mix of shame and self-doubt. In this moment, with no alternative but to choose a side, they wondered whether they would find the courage to join the alliance—or if fear would prevent them from stepping forward. Perhaps they would, perhaps they wouldn’t. The uncertainty weighed heavily upon them, as the resolve of smaller clans stood in stark contrast to their hesitation. It was as though they were being exposed for their own cowardice, their reluctance to act against oppression laid bare by the unity and determination of those who refused to be subdued.

The room fell silent for a moment, and even Jin Guangshan’s mouth hung open in stunned disbelief.

Cangse Sanren couldn’t help but stifle a soft laugh as she watched Jin Guangshan’s astonished expression. The irony of his shocked face was too satisfying to ignore.

‘What now, Jin Guangshan?’ she thought with a wry smile. ‘Are you going to continue being Wen Ruohan’s lapdog, or will you finally acknowledge the reality? You don’t have a choice here anyway. Don’t humiliate yourself even further.’ 

Jiang Wanyin crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed the scene unfold. “Look at him being speechless,” he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. 

“It’s pleasant,” Jin Zixuan nodded in agreement.

Jiang Wanyin glanced at him, his brow furrowing. “What’s with you?” he asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. 

“What?” Jin Zixuan asked, genuinely confused, his innocent demeanor only aggravating Jiang Wanyin further. 

Jiang Wanyin sighed deeply, shaking his head as if to dismiss the conversation altogether. “Never mind,” he muttered, refusing to entertain the thought any further. 

“Any more objections, Clan Leaders?” Lan Xichen asked, his voice calm yet firm. The announcements continued—“Sun Shan,” “Li Tong,” “Wu Ye,” and “Yang Zaihan”—each introducing themselves with confidence, but the message had already been made. 

Jin Guangshan broke eye contact, his unease evident as he lowered his gaze. 

“Great!” Nie Mingjue declared, stepping forward to address the entirety of the gathered crowd. “In the era of Five Emperors, ten suns caused the rivers to dry. The suffering the Wen Clan has brought is no less than that disaster! In ancient times, Da Yi shot down the suns to save the world.” 

He stepped onto the stage, his voice growing louder, his presence commanding attention.

“You people who have gathered here are today’s Da Yi! We shall name this battle against the Wen Clan ‘The Sunshot Campaign!’” 

He lifted his cup into the air, and a tremendous cheer erupted across the crowd, the energy spreading like wildfire. 

Yet, despite the joyous celebration, there was an underlying tension. A few cultivators exchanged uneasy glances, their smiles faltering. Some knew the events of the Sunshot Campaign—the sacrifices, the losses, and the cost. And for those who had lived through it, the wounds were still fresh. 

The shadow of ‘that’ person loomed ever closer. For Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue, the emotions surged like a tidal wave—bitterness for the betrayal they had endured, hatred, a longing, and an overwhelming sadness.

Then wind picked up, and the sky darkened to a stormy black. Crows cawed in the distance like harbingers of doom. An eerie creaking of wood resounded.

Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze quickly perked up, saying, “Wei Ying!” simultaneously.

Lan Wangji glared at the dark sky in the screen and cradled his unconscious husband tightly.

“He escaped, right?” Cangse Sanren asked with panic, turning to Jiang Wanyin, who refused to make eye contact with her.

At the dips between the mounds, bones littered the ground. There seemed to be a new skull two feet in any direction. In the distance, there was a trace of movement along the ground.

The figure blended into the shadows behind them, but their dusty red ribbon gave them away.

Slowly, Wei Wuxian continued to crawl forward. All around him, the spirits which made up the Burial Mounds’ potent resentful energy whispered and giggled in his ears.

He could barely keep his eyes open.

“He’s still here,” Wei Changze gasped, his voice trembling. “Wei Ying…” 

Once again, even through the screen, the atmosphere in the Burial Mounds felt stifling. The oppressive energy seemed to weigh heavily upon them, making each breath a struggle.

An unknown cultivator demanded impatiently, “Can’t he stand! He has to—” 

“He was thrown from the cliff!” Lan Wangji interjected, his tone firm and edged with frustration. The sheer ignorance behind the question grated on him. How could they fail to see the gravity of Wei Ying’s condition? Wei Ying was injured—gravely so—and no amount of pleading for him to flee or escape would change that. Questioning why he cannot stand is utterly senseless!

“Look at him,” Wen Qing snapped, glaring at the man. “If you think his condition allows him to move, then you’re either blind or a fool. And if that isn’t clear enough for you, let me remind you—he was already injured before he was thrown into the Burial Mounds. His body hasn’t even begun to recover.”

Yu Ziyuan, standing to the side, clenched her fists tightly, her face rigid as she fought not to react outwardly. The mention of Wei Ying’s prior injuries struck a nerve she couldn’t ignore. 

Wei Wuxian’s fingers clawed into the dirt, trembling as he dragged himself forward inch by inch, the effort wringing every last ounce of strength from his battered body. The cacophony of hisses and shrieks echoed around him, filling his ears with a symphony of torment. 

Wei Wuxian lay flat against the ground, barely able to move. The crushing weight of the resentful energy bore down on him like an iron vice, suffocating and inescapable. This wasn’t just pain—it was agony beyond comprehension. His body was a battlefield of injuries: whipped, choked, slammed into the ground, beaten mercilessly by Wen Chao’s disciples. The core-melting hand had hit him, and got thrown in, top it all off.

Were any of his bones still intact? He could barely breathe. Was his ribcage fractured? Had a rib punctured a lung? And his limbs—he wasn’t sure if his arm was broken, his leg shattered, or if a concussion was threatening to steal what little consciousness he had left. Worst of all, the suffocating resentment around him gnawed at his already fragile state.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Cangse Sanren’s voice trembled with rage and despair. Tears blurred her vision, but her fury burned clear. Why him? Why my son? Out of all the cultivators living their lives without a care, why does he have to suffer the most?! He has a heart of gold—a kind, selfless child. Why must the world break him like this?

All of the cultivators kept silent, reflecting their collective guilt.

Beside her, Wei Changze’s expression was equally tormented. His hands shook as he fought to keep himself together, but the pain in his chest was unbearable. His boy—his lively, mischievous, brilliant boy—reduced to this. The thought of Wei Wuxian enduring such horrors felt like a blade to his heart.

Cangse Sanren’s panic turned to anger, her voice a sharp cry. “That damned Wen Clan! Wen Chao! If I could—” She cut herself off, choking on her words as tears spilled freely down her face.

Wei Changze didn’t hesitate to embrace her tightly. His lips trembled. Is this it? Is this when it happens?

Yiling Laozu…

A hand snatched Wei Wuxian’s ankle.

Some disciples screamed.

Wei Wuxian was jerked back, pulled in as the arm sank deeper and deeper into the dirt. It was a fierce corpse, buried under the ground Wei Wuxian had just crawled over.

Wei Wuxian kicked at it and tried to stand.

Nearby resentful energy reacted to Wei Wuxian’s movement, condensing into another arm and grabbing the leg trying to kick the corpse away.

Wei Wuxian gasped out.

Jiang Yanli panicked, “A-Xian, run—”

But his movement had attracted more spirits’ attention.

They swarmed.

“No!”

“Wei Ying!”

“Wei Wuxian!”

Thousands of fierce ghosts attacked at once, slamming into his body like a tidal wave. Their screams grew in volume, and they flooded Wei Wuxian’s blood with their hate.

Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze darted all the way to the screen, but could do nothing to interfere.

“Get lost!” Wei Wuxian’s voice rang out, hoarse and broken. “All of you, leave!”

The spirits responded with malicious laughter, their voices intertwining into a cacophony of mockery. Their sinister chuckles echoed through the Burial Mounds, taunting his pain, feeding on his despair.

Jiang Wanyin stood frozen, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His nails bit into his palms, drawing blood, but he didn’t care. His jaw tightened painfully as he fought to keep his emotions at bay.

He despised it—the mocking laughter reverberating around him, clawing at his ears and tearing at his composure. How dare they? How dare they torment his brother like this?! Rage boiled in Jiang Wanyin’s chest, but beneath it was a bitter, gnawing hypocrisy. What right did he have to feel such anger when his own words and actions in the past had inflicted harm on Wei Wuxian? He could shout apologies into the void for eternity, and it still wouldn’t mend the fractures he had caused or erase the indelible scars etched into Wei Wuxian’s soul.

Beside him, Jin Ling stood rigid. Frustration swirled within him as he stared at the screen. The sight of Wei Wuxian—battered, broken, and surrounded by those vile spirits—was unbearable. He wanted nothing more than to leap through the screen and slice through every last specter that dared to harm him. But he couldn’t. He was powerless, reduced to a mere spectator of his uncle’s torment. The feeling of helplessness churned in his gut, and tears pricked the corners of his eyes as memories flooded back—moments when Wei Wuxian had saved him, shielded him, and sacrificed for him.

Jin Ling’s heart twisted painfully as regret gripped him. How had he ever hated this man? How had he allowed his anger, his pride, and the poisonous words of others to blind him to the truth? Wei Wuxian had been nothing but selfless, always giving, always protecting—even at his own expense. And now, all Jin Ling could do was watch as the person who had once been his savior was dragged deeper into the abyss.

‘Please, please escape, Dajiu…’

A relentless storm of resentment swirled around Wei Wuxian, pulling in the most malicious of spirits and vengeful corpses. Each step forward was met with countless malevolent entities closing in, their grotesque forms looming over him with a hunger.

“Stop it!” Jiang Yanli’s voice broke through the chaos. Her plea was filled with raw anguish, her eyes brimming with tears. Jin Zixuan and Jin Ling held her close, unable to look at the screen any further.

The corpses walked towards Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuian fought to escape. However, no matter how hard he pushed off the ground or twisted, he couldn’t move.

A corpse snatched his foot and yanked it close, nearly dislocating his knee and causing him to scream.

“A-Ying!” Cangse Sanren screamed.

Hearing the scream reminded Yu Ziyuan of the countless times she had punished Wei Wuxian for his recklessness. He never screamed when she reprimanded him; he endured in silence, his resilience and strength evident in his ability to withstand the harshest punishments without a single outcry. He bore his pain quietly.

But now, hearing his cries was a painful reminder that he wasn’t enduring anymore. The walls he built around his emotions were crumbling, leaving nothing but vulnerability exposed.

Her heart throbbed with guilt.

Lan Qiren seemed to mirror her sentiments, his complexion turning ashen while his composure visibly faltered. Memories resurfaced of how he had frequently chastised Wei Wuxian for his rule-breaking, defiance, and seemingly reckless behavior. Each sharp rebuke and stern glare now seemed to amplify the burden of remorse that weighed heavily upon him.

Wei Wuxian lashed out with a fierce kick, breaking the corpse's hold on him, but the surge of resentful energy retaliated swiftly, invading his lungs like a suffocating tide. 

The corpse, unyielding, staggered before regaining its stance and advancing once more, its movements unnervingly deliberate. The spectral forms trailing it writhed like a storm, encircling Wei Wuxian in a relentless vortex of malice. 

With an eerie coordination, the spirits ascended high above the Burial Mounds, their dark forms outlined against the bleak sky.

A heartbeat later, they plunged downward. 

Cangse Sanren and Jiang Yanli’s anguished screams tore through the suffocating tension of the room. Some onlookers recoiled, unable to bear the sight, shielding their eyes as dread took root in their hearts. Others sat paralyzed, their faces pale and their breaths shallow, gripped by the horrifying spectacle unfolding before them. A few whispered prayers or gasped in disbelief, the sheer weight of despair and helplessness suffusing the atmosphere like an oppressive fog.

They all understood… this was merely the beginning of the torment Wei Wuxian was going to endure.

“Speechless now, are we?” Baoshan Sanren asked, her tone sharp and laced with disdain as her piercing eyes swept across the room, taking in the cultivators’ reactions. “This is the so-called ‘villain’ of the cultivation world? The monster you use to frighten children into obedience? The symbol of chaos and destruction you so vehemently condemned?”

Some cultivators shifted uncomfortably, their eyes avoiding her. Others clenched their fists, torn between guilt and indignation.

“But it was Wen Chao’s fault! It was his decision to cast Wei Wuxian into the Burial Mounds that cemented his rise as the Yiling Laozu!” an unknown cultivator contended.

Baoshan Sanren’s lips curved into a chilling smile, her gaze fixed firmly on the cultivator. “Wen Chao was at fault, there is no doubt. However, others played a role in his downfall. Your hands are not as pure as you like to believe.”

Another cultivator interjected, “Yet, he welcomed destruction and chaos, embracing it as his weapon. How can we overlook that?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes, a sarcastic smile flickering across his face, and responded, “Wow, how can one be so dumb? Did you even watch what happened earlier?”

“He was forced to embrace it,” Jin Zixuan piped in. “There was no other option. What more is there to debate?”

Another cultivator chimed in, his tone more hesitant. “But does that justify the chaos he brought upon others? Innocents were caught in the crossfire. Can we ignore the damage done?”

Lan Qiren’s voice was calm, yet tinged with regret. “Innocents suffered, yes. And it is a tragedy that cannot be erased. However, the destruction entirely not his doing. It was a result of those who fueled the fire, who refused to understand, who condemned without question.”

He was one of them.

Baoshan Sanren’s gaze shifted back to the screen, “The seeds of destruction were planted long before Wei Wuxian embraced them. The blame cannot be laid solely at his feet.”

The tornado of resentful energy spiraled away into nothingness, leaving behind a tranquil white void suffused with crimson maple leaves gently drifting through the air. At the center of this ethereal landscape stood Wei Wuxian, his figure composed and his garments pristine, as though he had never been battered or worn down in the first place.

“What’s happening?” Madam Lan muttered.

“I’m just as confused,” Qingheng-jun admitted.

The only sound in the void was Wei Wuxian’s steady footsteps. Then, in a large sweep, the Lotus Pier formed. It was as lively and vibrant as it was before the Wens had ever shown up.

The Jiang Clan, along with a few other cultivators, gazed in somber awe at the remnants of what was once Lotus Pier. The beauty of their home had been undeniable. But now, all that remained were smoldering remnants and charred ashes.

Memories of joyous gatherings, intense trainings, and peaceful moments flooded their minds. Oh, how they miss their home already.

Wei Wuxian lifted his head, his vision blurry and unfocused, only to freeze at the sight before him. Up ahead, seated at a table, were Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian, their faces calm and unmarred by the shadows of their eventual fates. The soft, warm glow of the scene was so unlike anything he had known in years.

Behind him, the sound of light, carefree laughter caught his attention. Startled, he turned to see two children—himself and Jiang Cheng at no more than ten years old—dashing by with the boundless energy of youth. 

“Wei Wuxian, come on!” 

“Jiang Cheng, wait for me!” 

What an unspeakably cruel thing to show a man who had already lost everything. A reminder of a time when his world was whole, his family intact, and the weight of survival had yet to be placed upon his shoulders. 

Jiang Fengmian turned to face the kids, and even Yu Ziyuan’s face softened into a smile.

Seeing that, the teenage Wei Wuxian smiled warmly.

Yu Ziyuan’s eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. It was strange seeing her expression so warm, so unfamiliar. Did she ever show such softness toward Wei Wuxian? She couldn’t recall, not clearly—there had always been a distance, a coldness that had defined their interactions. Yet, here he was, painting a version of her she barely recognized: gentle, compassionate, and deeply empathetic.

Jiang Fengmian watched quietly from the side, a knowing look in his eyes.

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli called out. 

Wei Wuxian’s eyes brightened at the sound, his expression softening further as he instinctively turned toward the source. To his right, an illusion of his thirteen-year-old self sat beside Jiang Yanli, the two of them sharing a simple meal. 

“Slowly. Don’t choke,” she advised with the same tender care she had always shown him, her tone warm and motherly.

The younger Wei Wuxian grinned up at her, his cheeks stuffed with food. “I won’t, Shijie! Thanks!” he replied, his voice bright with unrestrained cheer. 

At the domestic scene, Jiang Yanli couldn’t help but smile softly, a gentle warmth spreading across her face. Others around her began to mirror the same expression, their tensions easing as the familiar scene unfolded.

Cangse Sanren quietly observed the scene, her gaze softening as memories resurfaced. She recalled how Wei Ying used to be like that too. A sense of gratitude settled within her as she thought of Jiang Yanli—the one person who had genuinely tried to understand Wei Ying, who had cared for him with the tenderness of a true sibling.

As Wei Wuxian began to step closer, his surroundings rippled and shifted, transforming into the roof of the Cloud Recesses. It was the scene from years ago—a younger Wei Wuxian, only fifteen, standing across from Lan Wangji for the first time. 

“Here! Emperor’s smile!” Wei Wuxian offered with a carefree grin, holding out a jug of wine. 

“Drinking is forbidden here.”

Lan Wangji stared intently at the screen, a quiet melancholy lingering in his gaze. Despite the weight of the memories, a subtle smile would occasionally curve his lips.

They could have had a more conventional first meeting—a formal introduction, perhaps, where words were carefully chosen and propriety observed. Yet, as the memory played out once more, Lan Wangji couldn’t help but feel that this unconventional meeting, was far more meaningful. Every glance, every touch, and every unspoken exchange, this moment was one that could never be replaced, an experience uniquely theirs.

On the side, Lan Qiren sigh exasperatedly seeing the memory before him.

Then, Lan Wangji turned towards them.

“Wei Ying!” he shouted.

The illusion shattered before their eyes, the vivid scene dissolving into nothingness as Wei Wuxian’s eyes shot open, wide with surprise and confusion.

“He’s awake,” Wen Ning whispered softly, his voice barely audible.

But Wen Qing shook her head, her expression somber. “That doesn’t make things any better,” she said quietly.

All around him, waves of resentful energy surged into Wei Wuxian’s body. With every attempt to move, the energy would violently erupt, sending trees crashing to the ground and clouds of dust into the air. As the dust settled, Wei Wuxian’s body hovered unnaturally, lifted by the sheer force of the malevolent energy.

Suddenly, two arms formed from the swirling resentment reached out, intertwining their ghostly fingers with Wei Wuxian’s. More arms emerged from the darkness, wrapping around his chest, squeezing him tighter with each passing second, as though trying to absorb his very essence. Nearby fierce corpses clawed desperately, their expressions twisted with hunger, reaching up like worshippers in a desperate plea for whatever scraps the spirits left behind.

“It’s pulling him in!” Jingyi cried out in panic.

“Get away from Senior Wei!” Zizhen shouted desperately, his eyes wide with alarm.

“A-Ying!” Cangse Sanren’s scream pierced through the room.

The resentful energy roared like a feral beast, and two glowing crimson eyes flared to life beside Wei Wuxian’s head. From the writhing mass, one spirit separated itself, its gaunt, skeletal face twisted with hunger. Below, the fierce corpses clawed over one another in a frenzied attempt to reach him, their movements frantic and rabid. They and the restless spirits stretched out their hands, eager for the moment Wei Wuxian’s body would be delivered into their grasp.

Where they would rip him apart.

With agonizing slowness, Wei Wuxian was lowered further, his form now within reach of the ravenous yao. Their claws raked toward him, and the moment contact was made, he screamed.

The cultivators watching the scene recoiled in horror. Some turned away, unable to bear the sight; others cried out, their faces pale with shock and disbelief. This… this was what Wei Wuxian had endured? And this was only the beginning? How could anyone, let alone a child, be expected to survive such torment?

“Survive…” Nie Mingjue muttered, his voice strained and barely audible. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and horror, his hands clenched into tight fists. “How in the hell did he survive that?”

No one had an answer. Silence hung over the room. None could fathom the sheer willpower, the unimaginable endurance, it must have taken for Wei Wuxian to come out of such a nightmare alive. The fact that he survived was proof of a strength they couldn’t begin to understand—a victory against all odds.

Madam Jin’s gaze shifted toward Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze. Her heart clenched as she saw the scene before her: Cangse Sanren collapsing into her husband’s arms, her body trembling with grief, her sobs uncontrollable. Wei Changze, though visibly shaken, held her tightly, his own face a mask of barely restrained anguish. He was trying—desperately—to remain composed, but the pain in his eyes betrayed his own silent suffering.

Madam Jin’s chest tightened. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the agony of witnessing one’s child enduring such horrors and being powerless to intervene. It was a torture beyond words, a cruelty that defied comprehension. For the first time, she truly understood the cruelty the cultivation world had inflicted upon Wei Wuxian.

Her thoughts drifted to her own past judgments of him—the disdain, the scorn she had harbored. To think she had once despised this boy, condemned him without knowing the truth. Now, after witnessing the memories that painted his struggles, his pain, and his perseverance, her feelings had shifted.

It was chaos—a brutal tug-of-war. The fierce corpses clawed and dragged him downward with relentless strength, while the spirits fought to pull him upward, their movements just as desperate. Each force pulled from a different direction—left, right, up, down—stretching him in ways no human body was ever meant to endure. The relentless jerking, yanking, and twisting contorted his frame into unnatural angles, each motion accompanied by sharp, agonized screams that echoed through the void.

The sickening sound of something snapping filled the air, unmistakable amidst the chaos. If his arm hadn’t been broken before, it certainly was now.

Mianmian averted her eyes, her stomach churning with a growing wave of nausea.

“Can anyone stop this right now?” Jiang Yanli pleaded. Her pleading gaze landed on Baoshan Sanren, who merely glanced at her before turning her attention back to the screen, her expression unreadable.

Nearby, Sizhui struggled to hold back tears, his hands trembling as he clenched them into fists at his sides. Wen Ning noticed the effort it took for the boy to keep his composure and gently placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, silently offering comfort.

Sizhui had been a child back then, too young and innocent to fully grasp the horrors and suffering that surrounded him. But now, as he watched these memories unfold, guilt gnawed at him. He couldn’t shake the overwhelming sorrow he felt for his Xian-gege—who had sacrificed so much for him, for his family. Wei Wuxian had willingly cast aside his own future, embracing a life of pain and isolation to protect those he cared for. For that, Sizhui knew he would be forever indebted to Wei Wuxian. His Xian-gege had given him a life filled with love and security—a life far removed from the nightmare Wei Wuxian had endured.

‘Please, let this end… someone, help him,’ he begged silently, his thoughts a desperate plea.

Meanwhile, the spirits abandoned their passive circling and began their attack in earnest. They surged toward him, invading his body like a swarm of parasites. They tore through his veins, making them bulge grotesquely. Pain like fire and ice coursed through him, and his screams—ragged and raw—faltered into gasping sobs as his body threatened to give out.

Then came the ground beneath him, splitting apart with an ear-splitting roar. From the chasm below, a wave of dense, resentful energy erupted like a tsunami, rushing past the fierce corpses and enveloping Wei Wuxian in its suffocating embrace. Tendrils of dark energy coiled around his limbs, binding him as they dragged him closer to the pool.

“The blood pool,” Jiang Wanyin muttered. His hands clenched into fists as he realized. “So, this is it… He was dropped into the heart of the Burial Mounds. That bastard!”

“Is that what it’s called? The Blood Pool?” Jiang Fengmian asked, his tone uneasy as he watched the scene unfold on the screen. 

“Yes, A-Die,” Jiang Wanyin answered. “The Blood Pool… it’s almost a living entity. Corpses of those who passed there were thrown in there. That is why the resentment there is so concentrated.”

Jiang Fengmian’s brows furrowed deeply, his worry became more evident, “I can see that.”

The spirits suffocated him; the corpses broke him; the resentful energy invaded his mind.

In a brief, agonizing moment, visions flooded Wei Wuxian’s consciousness—the fall of Lotus Pier, the lifeless forms of the Jiangs. His eyes snapped open, burning with determination—not fear, but an unyielding resolve to defy the darkness that sought to consume him.

A skeletal hand clawed at his chest, drawing blood as a thin stream trickled down his arm. The nearest corpses caught the scent, their grotesque mouths drooling with anticipation. One, its hunger palpable, opened its maw to devour him.

“Stop!” Wei Wuxian commanded with a force that momentarily halted the spirit in its track. For an instant.

Suddenly, his body convulsed, muscles trembling uncontrollably as the dark energy consumed him once more.

“Wei Ying!”

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Senior Wei!”

Resentful energy surged into his body, forcing his veins to bulge under the overwhelming strain. Where once he faced a fierce corpse in the tranquil forests of the Cloud Recesses, now he stood amidst the Burial Mounds, battling an innumerable horde.

"Is there no one going to save him?" Wei Changze's thoughts raced, his heart hammering in his chest as he desperately pleaded to the heavens for intervention. Yet, his prayers seemed in vain, falling on deaf ears as his son endured merciless torment.

Wei Wuxian gasped desperately, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to release a scream, but his lungs couldn’t find the strength to make a sound. His body twisted and contorted violently against the grasp of the spirits, the agony spreading through his limbs like fire consuming his very soul.

Yet, despite the overwhelming pain and the suffocating grip, the corpse paused. Its hunger-filled eyes glinted with confusion, momentarily halting its advance.

Wei Wuxian wasn’t dead—at least, not yet.

The cultivators were silent, watching the boy shake in agony as he fought the resentful energy for control.

Suddenly, Nie Mingjue's self-deprecating laughter broke the silence, a hollow sound filled with bitterness, “Keep him away from the temptation? Yeah right.”

Lan Qiren, standing stoically beside him, lowered his head. In truth, he watched Wei Wuxian’s memories with the hope of guiding him away from the path of demonic cultivation, believing it to be the only way to prevent further chaos. Yet, witnessing the memories unfold, he began to see the truth.

Wei Wuxian had no choice. Without his golden core and stripped of his spiritual abilities, he could no longer be the prodigy they once admired. The title meant nothing if he couldn’t wield a sword. Demonic cultivation was not a choice, but a desperate necessity. He wanted to protect Jiang Wanyin and others, even if it meant embracing a path shunned by society.

No amount of regret could ever undo the suffering, the loss, and the transformation forced upon him.

The spirits which had been swarming inside his body and pressing down on his throat moved back a handful of centimeters. If he had stopped them even a second later, he might have been suffocated.

Two days later, first, they heard Wei Wuxian’s heavy panting. Next, they saw him racing through the valley. Then, they saw what he was running from.

Although fierce corpses usually weren’t very fast, these were the ones in the Burial Mounds. Their resentment was unparalleled by anything on the outside, so, despite their worn-down bodies, even a trained cultivator would struggle against them. Wei Wuxian, with a hand-made splint around his possibly broken leg, had very little chance of escaping one.

And right now, dozens were chasing after him.

Wei Wuxian turned a sharp corner around one of the mounds, then stumbled on his bad leg. His body crashed against a small hill.

“Wei Ying, move!” Wei Changze exclaimed in alarm.

Wei Wuxian, once the fearless cultivator who stood tall against his adversaries, is now crawling himself away, his movements slow and faltering. It could hardly be called running, his battered and broken body barely managed to lift itself off the ground. Each step forward was a struggle, his legs trembling with exhaustion, every attempt to escape met with failure. Despite his suffering, despite the relentless torment he had endured, Wei Wuxian continued to fight for his survival.

Yet, even in his desperation, the limitations were clear—food and water. In a place as desolate and inhospitable as this, the thought of nourishment and water seemed a distant hope.

Nearby, Lan Wangji watched in agony as his heart wept for his beloved. The pain etched across Wei Wuxian’s features, the labored breaths he took—Lan Wangji couldn’t bear to witness. He should’ve considered searching through the Burial Mounds in the past.

A spirit dived, and created a crater where Wei Wuxian had been just a half second before. Wheezing from the strain, Wei Wuxian forced himself to stand up and continue moving.

And four days after that…

“What?!”

“More?!”

Wei Wuxian stumbled through a field of bamboo soaked in resentful energy. Although the fierce corpses were unable to reach him there, the spirits were even faster. By now, the dirt covering his clothes had turned even the scarlet inner robe pitch black.

No one missed the fact that Wei Wuxian’s cheek bones were far too obvious. The lack of food and rest was making him wither away.

Jiang Yanli and Cangse Sanren clenched her firsts.

“And six days after that.”

“Again?!” Madam Lan demanded.

“Stop,” Wei ordered again, barely able to speak with how dry his throat had become. This time, instead of spasming under the resentful energy running through his body, he merely took a few deep breaths, then forced himself to stand again on shaky legs.

And eight days after that.

“Just stop!” Jiang Cheng’s voice cracked with desperation. He should have been the one to save him—he should have searched harder, left no stone unturned in his quest to find Wei Wuxian. It didn’t matter if it meant combing through every corner of the earth.

But how could anyone have expect that Wei Wuxian would be cast into the Burial Mounds? It was a place so impossible to fathom for a rescue mission that months had passed before even a single clue emerged. By then, Wei Wuxian had returned, a shadow of his former self—a broken reflection of the carefree, brilliant prodigy Jiang Cheng once knew.

At that time, Jiang Cheng hadn’t questioned it. He hadn’t allowed himself to think too deeply, consumed by the overwhelming relief of having his brother back, no matter how altered he seemed. But now, witnessning the aftermath of Wei Wuxian’s torment, he finally understood the nightmare Wei Wuxian had endured.

The sanity Wei Wuxian maintained, felt like a miracle in itself.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Wei Wuxian,’ Jiang Cheng muttered, the weight of guilt and helplessness choking him as tears slid silently down his face.

Jiang Fengmian gripped his son’s shoulder to offer some comfort.

Sixteen days after that, the freshest corpse—lacking its legs—crawled slowly atop Wei Wuxian’s broken, bloodied body.

Forced to endure the sight, Lan Wangji’s grip tightened until his knuckles were pale. The images before him were unbearable, each second adding to the torment.

The corpse moved with a macabre determination, inching its way up Wei Wuxian’s fragile form.

It dragged itself over his legs, over his waist, his chest… 

Finally reaching his side, it leaned down, its dead eyes fixed on Wei Wuxian’s face.

“Move, Wei Wuxian!” Nie Mingjue shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Wei Wuxian’s eyes fluttered open. He flinched violently, his breath hitching as his body convulsed under the weight of the corpse pressing against him.

Around Wei Wuxian’s gasping neck, its mouth was frozen open mid-bite, revealing decayed, broken teeth stained with drool that dripped down his collarbones. Wei Wuxian could feel the chilling bite of those teeth starting to pierce his skin. His heart raced, the blood pounding in his ears louder than his hoarse, desperate voice could ever scream.

“Off,” he hissed weakly. “Get off me!”

But his screams had long since given out. His throat, shredded from days of relentless cries for help, was too raw to produce sound. His body trembled beneath the weight of the corpse, unable to summon the strength to fight back.

Tears streamed silently down Wei Changze’s face. The anguish of seeing his son endure such was unbearable.

Right. It was Wen Chao’s fault, and wasn’t just him who was responsible for his son’s suffering. There were others—Yu Ziyuan, Lan Qiren, Jiang Fengmian, Jiang Wanyin, Wang Lingjiao, and many more. Each of them, in their own way, contributed to the reality Wei Wuxian was forced to endure.

With a glare sharp enough to pierce the screen, Wei Changze directed his wrath at the corpses. Wen Chao was fortunate to be dead, spared from the vengeance that Wei Changze could so easily have unleashed.

In his embrace was his wife, her face buried in his chest, her body wracked with silent sobs.

In the midst of the torment, Wei Wuxian continued to breathe heavily, his body trembling as he fought against the ever-looming corruption of demonic cultivation. Each breath felt heavier than the last, his muscles straining against the oppressive pull of resentful energy. He swallowed hard, and the sharp pressure from the teeth wrapped around his neck only tightened further.

“Off,” Wei Wuxian commanded harshly, his voice strained and hoarse. However, his breath hitched as a surge of resentful energy surged through his veins, overwhelming him.

The sight alone was enough to make everyone in the room feel sick, a collective wave of nausea spreading among the cultivators witnessing his struggle.

Despite the disturbing sight, the corpses and spirits slowly began to back away, sensing the intense battle Wei Wuxian waged for control. Left alone, he continued to pant, struggling to maintain his grasp on the dark energy as it threatened to consume him. Trembling, he managed to turn over, pushing himself shakily off the ground.

“Circulate it through,” he urged himself, his voice a whisper of determination. “Don’t let it linger.”

Every time Lan Qiren saw a flicker of hope for Wei Wuxian’s redemption, he clung to his teachings—reminding himself that there was no justification for inventing demonic cultivation. That nothing could excuse it.

Cangse Sanren had been right to call him an old fool.

Wei Wuxian’s arm spasmed violently, then went limp. For a fleeting moment, the resentful energy momentarily won, forcing him into submission.

“No—”

“Please—!” came the desperate plea from nearby cultivators, their voices pleading for his struggle to end, for him to be freed.

“Damn it!” Wei Wuxian shouted, his voice cracking as he forced himself to suppress the overwhelming energy once again. With sheer determination, he bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste flooding his mouth. His bloodshot eyes, wild with the struggle, opened once more.

“Look at the dark circles under his eyes,” Jin Zixuan whispered, his voice barely. “Did he even have time to sleep?”

Hearing his observation, Jiang Wanyin and Jin Ling wished he hadn’t pointed it out.

Jiang Yanli wept silently once again.

“Figure it out,” Wei Wuxian muttered to himself through gritted teeth, his mind clouded with exhaustion. Each breath felt heavier, every second dragging with the weight of his struggle. “Figure it out. Figure it out. Figure it out—get out—find Wen Chao—kill him!”

His eyes turned crimson, and a grin formed on his face.

The world faded to black.

When the cultivators were returned to the white void, they were once again struck silent—overwhelmed by the weight of what they had just witnessed.

Each of them had thought they would witness the creation of something vile—the birth of the Yiling Patriarch—an embodiment of corruption and darkness. Why wouldn’t they? After all, demonic cultivation had been portrayed as the ultimate betrayal of traditional values, a path that led only to power-hungry manipulation and chaos. Those who sought to harness its power for themselves believed it to be the inevitable cost of achieving greatness, but deep down, they saw it as something abhorrent, something that tainted everything it touched.

Yet, the truth was far more complex than they had expected. People thrown into the Burial Mounds always met their end. But Wei Wuxian had defied that fate. His existence within those dreadful mounds became proof not to darkness, but to his unparalleled intellect and will to survive—and more importantly, to protect.

It wasn’t a decision made for selfish gain. It wasn’t a lust for power or dominance. His brilliance lay in his ability to see beyond the limitations imposed by tradition, to craft a solution when others only saw an inevitable downfall.

And yet, they had cast him aside without a second thought. Condemned him for his choices without ever understanding the depth of his struggle. They painted him as a villain, a betrayer of their ideals, blind to the sacrifices he made and the horrors he endured.

What could they say now? The truth was laid bare. Every harsh judgment, every whispered condemnation—none of it held the weight it once did. They had seen firsthand the man who was forced into a role no one else could understand, a man who had to rise above what should have been his ultimate demise to protect those he loved.

There was nothing more they could do except reflect on the tragedy they helped create.

“Did this answer your question?” Baoshan Sanren’s voice cut through the silence, her piercing gaze fixed on the group.

Cangse Sanren couldn’t hold back any longer. “How could you all judge him without understanding him first? What right did you have to condemn him?”

The junior disciples surrounding them were visibly shaken, their heads bowed in guilt. One of them, trembling, spoke up, “We were taught to see him as the Yiling Patriarch—the embodiment of chaos. We thought... we thought he embraced darkness willingly.”

“Of course, it’s easy for the so-called adults to spout such sanctimonious nonsense!” Cangse Sanren’s voice rang out, sharp and furious, as her grief turned into uncontainable rage. “You dare call yourselves righteous cultivators? What a farce! Every single one of you is a disgrace to the title!”

Her voice cracked with raw emotion, but her words did not falter. “He saved you—saved all of you—and he was vilified, and ostracized. Tell me, is this what your so-called righteousness looks like? Self-serving hypocrisy wrapped in the guise of honor?”

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Nie Huaisang, uncharacteristically solemn, turned to the unknown cultivators, “If you all have any decency left, you should stop pretending his sacrifices were anything less than extraordinary.” 

No cultivator argued with that.

Nearby, Jiang Cheng’s voice trembled, raw with guilt and self-recrimination. “I should have searched harder. I should have done more. I should have—” 

“You did your best, A-Cheng,” Jiang Fengmian interrupted softly, his tone attempting to soothe. “You did not fail. You found him months later, didn’t you? That effort alone was not easy.” 

“But—” Jiang Cheng paused, his fists clenching. “I was supposed to protect him. He was my brother, and I failed him at every turn.” 

Jiang Yanli then interjected, “A-Cheng, you did all that you could with what you had. What’s important is that you found him and brought him back. Don’t shoulder blame for things you couldn’t have foreseen or controlled.”

Jiang Wanyin merely nodded his head.

Sometime later, grumbles and discussions broke out among the adults, their tones ranging from reluctant acknowledgment to muffled guilt. However, exhaustion also washed over many of them after reliving such a traumatizing memory.

Meanwhile, Baoshan Sanren, who had remained quiet after her earlier outburst, surveyed the faces around her. “Now that the memory has ended, shall we begin, Wen-guniang?” she said, walking toward the unconscious Wei Wuxian.

“W-Wait, what are you going to do, grandmaster?” Cangse Sanren demanded in a panic.

“Don’t worry, I won’t harm him,” Baoshan Sanren reassured gently. “But do you recall what I mentioned earlier?”

Cangse Sanren’s eyes widened as realization dawned upon her, her breath hitching. “You mean…”

“Yes,” Baoshan Sanren affirmed. “Let’s restore Wei Wuxian back to his prime.”

“B-But the risks—” Wei Changze began, his voice filled with concern.

Baoshan Sanren interrupted, “That’s why I’ll be performing this procedure alongside Wen-guniang.”

All eyes turned toward Wen Qing, who stepped forward with a composed yet solemn expression.

“The operation will take place indoors,” Baoshan Sanren continued. “Only Wen-guniang, myself, and Wei Wuxian will be present in the room. Everyone else will need to wait outside.”

Lan Wangji gazed down at his sleeping husband, his expression soft but contemplative, before turning his attention to Wei Wuxian’s parents, whose faces were filled with hope and anticipation.

“Before we proceed, do I have your permission?” Baoshan Sanren asked Cangse Sanren.

At first, Cangse Sanren hesitated, her hands trembling slightly as she looked to her husband, seeking his guidance. Wei Changze smiled at her.

This was for their son—everything rested on this moment.

“Okay, I trust you, grandmaster.”