Chapter Text
Feng Shi scrabbles to a halt partway down the slope behind his mother’s house. A few loose stones rattle away, skittering through the scrubby bushes, and he strangles a curse in his throat. It’s taken him hours to get here, thanks to a rockfall and the twisted ankle he got climbing over it, and he hasn’t made it here in time.
Useless. He’s useless. He can’t even warn his mother of danger when he sees it coming.
The men standing on the packed earth of the yard don’t look around, though the one in purple grimaces. That likely has nothing to do with Feng Shi dislodging a few stones, though.
His mother stands behind the purple man, in the space formed by him and a man in the heavy gold of the Jin main family. They both have their backs turned to her, the wall of the house closing the triangle, and it takes a long moment for Feng Shi to work out that these men are defending his mother: their swords are pointed outward, at the ring of dark-robed men surrounding them.
As quietly as he can, Feng Shi picks his way along behind the bushes, his breaths sounding obscenely loud in his own ears, heading for the shed in the far corner. He doesn’t know where his mother has hidden his sword, but there will be something he can use in the shed. There has to be. He can’t let his mother be harmed.
He’s almost at the shed, is considering the stretch of dry, empty ground he’ll have to cross to reach it, when a growling voice fills the area.
‘Are you stupid? Do you think you can walk away from attacking us?’
‘You’re outnumbered.’
Feng Shi looks around in time to see the man who’s dared reply shift his stance and glance at the people to either side of him, as though needing to reassure himself he’s right. The man in purple sneers, something at his wrist crackling with light the colour of his robes, and Feng Shi feels the blood drain from his own face.
Sandu Shengshou. That’s Sandu Shengshou defending Feng Shi’s mother. Sandu Shengshou, the fierce leader of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, is in Feng Shi’s mother’s yard, standing next to a Jin, facing off against unknown opponents.
This is Feng Shi’s fault. It has to be. One of the things he knows about Sandu Shengshou is that he’s all but a brother to Wei Wuxian: the man must be here to deal with Feng Shi.
But then, why is he defending Feng Shi’s mother?
‘Outnumbered?’ Sandu Shengshou asks.
With a flick of his wrist, the purple sparks become a rope of lightning, arcing out and around and knocking half of the dark-robed men to the ground. In the sudden burst of activity, two men lunge for the Jin and one braves an attack on Sandu Shengshou, but the others are either struggling to their feet or hanging back.
The fight, such as it is, is soon over. Feng Shi hasn’t had to do anything but hide and watch.
‘Who sent you?’ the Jin asks. ‘Answer me and I may argue for leniency.’
One of the men, not the one who spoke earlier, spits at the Jin’s feet. He misses, which is perhaps fortunate for him.
‘Leniency? What right have you to speak of leniency? We’re doing our duty.’
‘Your duty to whom?’
This Jin is a lot calmer than Zin Zixun. He steps forward and brings the point of his sword up under the man’s chin, his expression disdainful and collected.
‘I’ve seen you before,’ he says, at last, his eyes narrowing. ‘I’ve seen you at Koi Tower.’
‘They’re from your sect?’ Sandu Shengshou asks. He’s skipped disdain and landed right on disgust. ‘What, do they not recognise their own sect heir, that they dare attack you?’
Sect heir. Feng Shi inhales sharply. Jin Zixuan has come all the way to his mother’s home to…to prevent these men from harming his mother? This is even stranger than Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun being at the camp.
One of the men struck by Sandu Shengshou’s lightning whip falls to his knees, bowing and begging.
‘Young Master Jin, please forgive me. Please. Have mercy. We had orders. Have mercy. I-‘
‘Orders.’ Jin Zixuan says, as though contemplating the word. ‘Orders to kill a village woman? Why?’
‘Or were you sent to kill her son?’ Sandu Shengshou asks. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? The only guard to survive the camp at Qiongqi Path is this woman’s son, and you came here to murder him before he could talk.’
The only one to survive? Dread slithers through Feng Shi’s stomach and up into his throat. In his horror, he doesn’t notice right away when his mother steps closer to the young lords with her head up, her back straight despite the grey in her hair. He jolts when she speaks.
‘They came to kill my boy. And what do you seek him for, Sect Leader Jiang? Master Jin? Should my son flee from you, too?’
She doesn’t look his way, but Feng Shi is certain, in that moment, that his mother has spotted him, that she’s warning him not to let himself be seen. His mother would not speak in such a way to members of the gentry unless she felt she had to. She is far too wise for that.
With better grace by far than Feng Shi expects, Jin Zixuan dips his head to her, though he keeps his eyes on his sword.
‘We wish only to speak with him, I assure you. There are matters that require clearing up.’
She stares at Jin Zixuan, then at Sandu Shengshou, before grunting and nodding.
‘Well. I have plenty of rope in the shed. Tie them up and come in for some tea. Maybe my boy will join us.’
The relief that pours into Feng Shi then is so strong he goes dizzy, catching himself before he falls or makes a noise to reveal himself. His mother wants him to speak with these men, men who are powerful, men who can do something about this situation.
If he’s lucky, he can pass on what he knows and move back into his mother’s home and just…just forget about his time as a guard for the Jin Sect. He would very much like to pretend it never happened. He left as a foolish child, wanting adventure and renown and a hundred things he knows now are pointless.
Just let this all be done with, and he will happily sink into the life of his mother’s village and never again think of leaving.
‘It’s definitely drugged,’ Lan Huiyin says, lip curling a little as she looks down at the remains. ‘A strong one, too. Even someone with a core as strong as Second Master Lan’s would be unconscious if they had much of this.’
‘And if he only had a little?’ Xichen asks.
Next to him, Maiden Jiang stands with her hands clasped together, looking as desperate to hear the answer as he is. Xichen has come to realise that, for whatever reason, this young woman cares for his brother. It brings him more comfort than he expected.
‘It would depend,’ Lan Huiyin says. ‘Whoever did this laced the food with enough to put down three men, at least. But, given how much you were able to bring me, it would seem Second Master Lan noticed and discarded the food. If he only took a small amount…’
She shrugs.
‘He was conscious. Enough to know something of what was happening around him,’ Xichen says.
‘Then in all likelihood, he ingested a small enough amount that he will have recovered within a few hours,’ the healer says. ‘Even a mouthful of this would make him queasy, though. Dizzy.’
‘His qi was sealed,’ Xichen says, and watches her eyebrows lift.
‘Ah. Well, in that case, a mouthful would be enough to make him have trouble staying awake. Taking all of this would likely have killed him. I am grateful that has not happened.’
Maiden Jiang shares a look with Xichen before turning to the healer.
‘May I have one of our Yunmeng Jiang healers double-check your findings, Healer Huiyin? I trust your work, of course, but two healers will make for a stronger testimony than one.’
She is clever, this sister of Young Master Wei’s. Xichen is still deeply troubled, is still more than worried for Wangji, but he feels better able to keep fighting now that he has some proof Wangji has been mistreated. That A-Yao has lied to him. He feels comforted to have Maiden Jiang on his side.
He holds carefully separate that confirmation of the lie. If he lets himself feel it… Well, his father is an object lesson is how well his family cope with emotional difficulties, and Wangji needs him. If the hurt from this proves to be too much, it is something Xichen will have to suffer through when he has the time for it.
‘That would be a good idea,’ Lan Huiyin admits, and ensures the samples are packed properly so that Maiden Jiang can take them.
Huiyin has cared for Xichen and Wangji since they were young, and after she has handed the samples to Maiden Jiang with a warm smile, she sets a hand on Xichen’s arm and squeezes.
‘We’re with you, A-Huan,’ she says, and kindly pretends not to notice the hitch in Xichen’s breathing or the dampness of his eyes in response.
Jin Guangyao keeps his smile in place as his father drinks tea in his favourite pavilion. He no longer expects to be invited to sit and join his father. It is of little import: there will come a day when Jin Guangyao will be able to sit and drink tea in whichever pavilion he so chooses. One way or another, there will.
For now, he dips his head in acknowledgment of his father’s complaints and murmurs assurances where he can, but the man truly is hard to please.
‘You said they’d turn against him,’ Jin Guangshan repeats. ‘You said you’d have them hunting him down and dragging him back to me in chains.’
‘Chifeng-Zun is out hunting him, as are others,’ he points out. Again.
Jin Guangshan snorts.
‘Mingjue is an angry little boy,’ he says. ‘That entire family’s unstable. Always has been. Who’s to say he won’t find something else to chase?’
Nie Mingjue is shackled by his narrow and intense view of justice, is chained by that and by his love for Er-ge. He won’t turn away from someone who has used demonic cultivation to hurt Er-ge’s precious brother. But Jin Guangyao has already explained this.
His father is upset that his prize is not yet in his possession. He will find fault with anything he can.
‘Perhaps you would like me to arrange some relaxation for you, Father?’ Jin Guangyao suggests. ‘One of your favourite establishments has taken on new-‘
‘What I want,’ his father snapped, bringing a fist down on the table in front of him, ‘is for you to get one thing right!’
It takes some minutes for the tirade to end, and once it does Jin Guangyao’s mouth and cheeks feel the strain of maintaining his expression. It would seem his father’s patience has run out.
Sadly, it is time to break Er-ge’s heart.
Xichen waits in a pavilion surrounded by roses. Before him on the table, the teapot releases steam into the perfumed air. A tray of snacks sits beside it. He’s been waiting for a little under an hour. The tea has been replaced twice.
He uses the time to order his thoughts and settle his emotions. Or he tries to. It’s easier to skim a surface of calm over them than it is to achieve real peace, and Wangji is not safe yet.
He isn’t waiting for anything in particular. Or rather, he is waiting to hear from Maiden Jiang about the results of the Jiang healer’s tests on the food. He is waiting to hear that Jiang Wanyin and Jin Zixuan have returned and whether they found the missing guard. He is waiting to see whether yet another part of his world will fracture and crumble whilst he can do nothing to stop it.
It’s been many years since he required basic breathing exercises, but he catches the spiral of his panic and falls back on a steadying cycle of breathing, pausing, breathing, pausing. He will be no good to Wangji if he becomes the thing that breaks.
For once he wishes items in his sleeves would remain more physical, rather than vanishing into the spells than make them function as qiankun pouches. It would be reassuring to feel and hear the crinkle of paper that tells him Wei Wuxian’s message is real. He resists taking it out and reading it again, knowing already what it says. This is a public space, frequented by enough people to make it unsafe for secrets.
‘Zewu-Jun. What a pleasant surprise.’
Maiden Jiang sounds as warm and welcoming as always, and it takes little time for him to invite her to take tea with him. The Jiang cultivators trailing further back slip far enough away not to be intrusive, but not so far anyone will think something untoward is happening.
‘I do find the gardens here to be well maintained,’ Xichen says, once tea has been poured. ‘They are quite different to the landscape of my own home.’
‘Mine, too,’ Maiden Jiang replies. ‘I do hope you have the chance to visit Lotus Pier soon, Zewu-Jun. I believe it has been many years since you were there.’
A Jiang cultivator Xichen didn’t notice before steps into the pavilion and leans down to speak with Maiden Jiang, who nods and thanks her. The woman vanishes again without speaking to Xichen, though she does offer him a bow.
‘We are safe to speak freely,’ Maiden Jiang says. ‘A number of my sect brothers and sisters are taking the air. They will let us know if anyone draws close.’
Xichen blinks at her. It would not have occurred to him to ask his own disciples to do such a thing. And yet, what are the Jiang disciples doing, really, other than strolling in a garden designed for the purpose? That Maiden Jiang has sought him out and considered a way to speak without being overheard is impressive.
‘Perhaps I should visit to learn from your wisdom,’ he murmurs, dipping his head to Maiden Jiang.
She ducks her own head, her lips curving, before meeting his eyes again with a rueful expression.
‘I confess, my mother believed such things would be useful to me, given my betrothal. I always found such things distasteful and hoped they would never be needed. I certainly did not expect to be using them like this. But I hope you do not find it shameful. I know the Lan rules preach honesty.’
The rules. Xichen has been raised by those rules. He has also found ways to live within and around a great many of them, ways his brother never has.
‘I am relieved to have such a capable ally,’ he says, because the rules of his sect are not a conversation he wants to have right now, ‘and I am glad you came to find me. You have seen your healer?’
She nods.
‘Our healer reached the same conclusions. Unpleasant though they are, they prove Second Master Lan could not have killed that man. When both healers speak, people will have to listen.’
‘Good,’ Xichen murmurs. ‘That is good. The more proof we can present, the better.’
‘And when will we present this proof?’ she asks. ‘I fear the rumours only grow more extreme and I worry what people may persuade themselves needs doing.’
He doesn’t ask what rumours she has heard now. Despite the Lan rules against gossip, enough have reached him that he wants to wrap Wangji up safely and refuse to let anyone near him. The things people are willing to believe astound him. They appal him. That they could believe such things of his brother sickens him.
But he can’t keep people from Wangji when he doesn’t have Wangji by his side.
‘As soon as possible,’ he says, ‘though it would be better to have the testimony of the surviving guard, if possible. I have received a message from Wei Wuxian, assuring me Wangji is no longer held in Koi Tower. He says they won’t return until it is safe. I don’t know where they are, but they are free and they are together.’
She looks as relieved as Xichen feels. With her next words, that relief vanishes again.
‘A-Cheng and A-Xuan have still not returned. I admit I am worried for them.’
Before Xichen can reply, the same cultivator from before appears again at the edge of the pavilion and strides to stand at Maiden Jiang’s shoulder. No words are exchanged, but Maiden Jiang switches smoothly to a conversation about the roses and which flowers grow best in the Cloud Recesses.
Xichen doesn’t even have time to reply before a Jin cultivator appears around a turn in the path, heading directly for them. Maiden Jiang calls out and the cultivator standing behind her relaxes by a degree.
‘Maiden Lou,’ Maiden Jiang says, her relief perhaps a little clearer than is wise. ‘Have you come with word from Young Master Jin?’
Maiden Lou bows and greets them properly, but wastes no time replying to the question.
‘I received a butterfly,’ she says. ‘I apologise, Maiden Jiang. It took me some time to find you. He’s on his way back. Sect Leader Jiang, too. They found who they were looking for but there was a problem.’
She pauses and glances at the seat between the two of them. Xichen at once asks her to join them. He hopes that anyone watching from a distance won’t think it has taken a suspiciously long time for him to do so. Would he usually have invited her to sit? He can no longer recall.
‘Please, go on,’ Maiden Jiang says, proving once again that, for all she didn’t lead anyone in battle, she is able to stay more composed than Xichen is with this kind of combat.
Nothing in Gusu Lan’s rules have prepared him for this.
‘They found other cultivators already at the guard’s home,’ Maiden Lou says. ‘They dared to draw their blades on their own sect heir. Please, don’t worry. Neither Zixuan nor your brother were harmed. But they are having to escort those men back as well as the guard.’
‘I imagine that is taking some time,’ Xichen allows. At least he still sounds composed. ‘It cannot be helped.’
No matter how frustrating it is.
If Maiden Lou has anything else to say to them, they don’t get to hear it, because a servant arrives with a request that they all join Sect Leader Jin in Glamour Hall.
‘Do you know what for?’ Xichen asks, even as he stands and straightens his robes.
The servant bows, sounding apprehensive in a way no servant does in the Cloud Recesses.
‘Only that there is news Sect Leader must share,’ she says.
There is little point in hoping it is good news. There is even less point in delaying. Whatever new poison is about to be poured, they cannot afford to reveal they suspect anything. Even Xichen knows he must behave normally, and normally he would respond at once to such a summons, drawn as much by his bond with A-Yao as by his duty to Gusu Lan.
‘Then let us not keep him waiting,’ he says, and leaves the pavilion with Maiden Jiang on one side, and Maiden Lou on the other.
At least he need not face this alone.
Wei Wuxian huffs in frustration and releases Lan Zhan’s wrist.
‘My qi has started to return,’ Lan Zhan reminds him quietly.
He watches Wei Wuxian with half-open eyes, his head turned sideways and his cheek pressing against the pillow.
‘Yes, I know,’ Wei Wuxian says, ‘but this array is part of your skin, now, and I can’t work out what it does. Lan Zhan, it could do anything to you.’
Lan Zhan, the infuriating man that he is, doesn’t respond. He just lies on his back, like some lazy young master who thinks nothing of sleeping the day away. And he has, sliding in and out of sleep as Wei Wuxian first ventured out in search of clothing and to send a message, and then settled beside the bed to puzzle over the array.
It stands red and sore against Lan Zhan’s skin, taunting Wei Wuxian with how little he understands it. There are pieces that hang tantalisingly just out of reach, and he knows if any one of them slotted into place in his mind, he’d be able to work this out. Some of it, anyway.
At least Lan Zhan doesn’t seem perturbed by Wei Wuxian thinking aloud, occasionally even offering a comment when he’s alert enough, but it’s only been an hour since his qi began to recover and so far none of his injuries have healed. Better he rests.
In the dark blue underrobe Wei Wuxian found for him to change into, he looks paler than usual. The robe is a little too long for him, which only adds to the impression that Lan Zhan is vulnerable, but it was all the shop down the road had that would fit him. It’s poor quality for a Lan, let alone their second master, but far better than the dirtied robes he’d been wearing when rescued. To Wei Wuxian’s discomfort, the blue brings out the bruises, some alchemy in the colours making them appear more vivid. That only fuels Wei Wuxian’s fear that this array may do Lan Zhan further harm.
‘This part, here,’ he says, tracing the skin next to one curving welt, ‘it looks like it should connect to something, but it doesn’t.’
The wrist pulls out of Wei Wuxian’s grasp as Lan Zhan lifts his arm to look.
‘It’s connected,’ he says, sounding slightly petulant.
He doesn’t like being made to stay in bed, despite not being able to stand on his own, and it must be horrible for him to have Wei Wuxian touching his skin so much. Besides which, not understanding something must be a rare experience for Lan Zhan.
‘Yes,’ Wei Wuxian admits. ‘It is, in the sense that the line touches this other one, and at this end it becomes part of this spiral, but that’s not what I mean. Ah, don’t pout at me, Lan Zhan. I’m trying to explain! I mean it isn’t connected in the sense this array, whilst clearly being meant to do something on its own, also appears part of a larger working, and this bit would be what allows it to join that larger whole.’
Lan Zhan shifts his gaze from Wei Wuxian to his own wrist, a small frown forming.
‘I almost recognise this bit, and this. Oh, and this, here, could be an adaptation of something from a talisman I’ve seen in an old book. When was it, now? Ah! When I was studying at the Cloud Recesses. But why would anyone working for Jin Guangyao be using an element of an array that your ancestors used, Lan Zhan?’
‘Brother.’
Lan Zhan says this in the same rasping, barely there voice he’s used since he first woke up in this room, and at first Wei Wuxian thinks his friend has slipped into a fever, that he thinks Wei Wuxian is Zewu-Jun, which… Well. A strong fever, then.
Touching the back of one hand to Lan Zhan’s forehead gets him a startled blink and the knowledge that Lan Zhan’s temperature is normal. No fever.
‘Oh,’ Wei Wuxian says, his own mind catching up with him, and he moves his hand, resisting the urge to find something to wipe Lan Zhan’s brow with. ‘You mean because of your brother, Jin Guangyao would have access to your library, even though he never studied there? Ah, Lan Zhan is so wise. Of course, he could have passed such information on to anyone, or maybe he used it himself to create this.’
If so, then Jin Guangyao has skills Wei Wuxian did not suspect him of having. The man’s memory is known to be flawless, of course, a state of affairs Wei Wuxian can’t even imagine, but he’s never shown any sign that he’s a creative power with talismans.
‘I don’t think this is how they suppressed your spiritual energy,’ Wei Wuxian goes on, when Lan Zhan offers nothing else, ‘though I can’t be sure, but what else would they want to achieve? They already had you shut away and chained up and it didn’t activate to stop me from carrying you out.’
There’s a shift of expression at that, just a slide of Lan Zhan’s eyes a fraction to the side and a twitch of one eyebrow, but it’s enough to show discomfort. Lan Zhan doesn’t like the reminder he had to be carried.
‘Ah, don’t be like that, Lan Zhan. Of course, I must carry you when necessary. You really don’t have to do these things all on your own, you know.’
‘Neither do you.’
Wei Wuxian pushes to his feet, putting his hands on his hips as he stares down at his friend.
‘Is this about making you leave the Burial Grounds? Perhaps you could have hidden with us there, but what state would Zewu-Jun be in by now? Eh? He wouldn’t have his sword and he wouldn’t know where you were.’
‘Brother doesn’t know where I am now.’
‘Well, he knows I got you out. When we know it’s safe, I’ll send him the location, or you’ll be able to walk back and accept all of the apologies people owe you. Don’t look so doubtful! Zewu-Jun said he would get this all cleared up for you, and if he runs into problems, then I’ll go back and help some more.’
‘Too risky.’
He has a point. Using demonic cultivation to break Lan Zhan out was not exactly subtle.
‘Aiyah, okay. Okay!’ Wei Wuxian throws his hands up and spins around to pace up and down the small space next to the bed. ‘But he still has his sword back, at least.’
That gets him a tiny quirk of Lan Zhan’s lip, caught as Wei Wuxian turns back to him and gone completely within a heartbeat. He’ll take it.
‘We’ll get this cleared up, Lan Zhan. You’ll see. Jiang Ch-‘
He’s cut off by a hiss of pain. Lan Zhan glares down at his marked wrist, narrowing his eyes. Wei Wuxian follows his gaze and freezes. The lines of the array are the dull red glow of a banked fire.
‘Does it hurt?’ he asks, returning to his place kneeling at Lan Zhan’s feet and taking hold of the wrist, turning it to get a better look. ‘Is it doing anything?’
Lan Zhan shakes his head slowly, a pinched line between his brows. Pain sits tight at the edges of his eyes and mouth.
‘Nothing you can tell,’ Wei Wuxian verbalises for him. ‘Your spiritual energy isn’t affected? How about-‘
He’s still looking at Lan Zhan’s face, so he sees the moment his eyes glaze over, a film of milky white subsuming the sharpness. A moment later, Lan Zhan’s whole body spasms, and a grunt of pain escapes from between his tightly shut lips.
‘Lan Zhan!’
Wei Wuxian leans over his friend, trying to recall anything Wen Qing may have told him that would help with such a state, but instead he finds the piece he was looking for.
A tendril of resentful energy slithers out of the corner of Lan Zhan’s right eye and Wei Wuxian feels Lan Zhan’s wrist, which he’s taken hold of again, turn cold. Painfully so.
This array is designed to work with resentful energy. Of course. They’re trying to frame Wei Wuxian. It has to use resentful energy. And, if they want to prove the lies they’ve been spilling, it will need to do something that will feed into that, too.
‘Hold on,’ he tells Lan Zhan, ‘I can make this right.’
He intends to let go for long enough to make use of Chenqing, but as he shifts his weight to do that Lan Zhan’s body goes taut, touching the bed only with his head, his shoulders and his heels, before dropping into a sprawl, utterly still.
‘Lan-‘ Wei Wuxian starts, only to be cut off as Lan Zhan’s eyes open again, showing nothing but black, and his arm shoots out to knock Wei Wuxian across the room.
Jin Guangyao observes the satisfied smirk on Xue Chengmei’s face and wonders again how much longer this boy will worth keeping around.
‘You’re sure it’s worked?’ he asks.
Xue Chengmei cants his head to one side, the smirk growing, and looks up at Jin Guangyao from where he kneels over an array he’s activated on the ground. An array drawn in blood taken from Lan Wangji when they held him prisoner, mixed with a little from certain other sources.
‘Very sure,’ the boy says, widening his eyes as though he’s speaking of some wonderful surprise gift. ‘How sure are you that you can get everyone in place in time? After all, we don’t know where your pretty pet has got to.’
‘They’re already gathering,’ Jin Guangyao replies. He allows himself a smile, an edge of delight. Xue Chengmei responds well to signs his games are being played. ‘Remember, you must keep this active until there is nothing left.’
That gets a laugh.
‘Don’t worry.’ The boy twirls the fingers of his right hand above the array, though as far as Jin Guangyao knows, that won’t do anything. The array is already connected to the resentful energy it needs, energy that is funnelling through Xue Chengmei and his piece of Yin Iron. ‘I will squeeze every drop from this. It will be an impressive display, even if I don’t get to see it.’
Dangerous, to have him even thinking of witnessing the effects of this for himself.
‘Stay here. Stay focused,’ Jin Guangyao instructs. ‘Do well, and I will find you someone fun to play with again soon.’
Someone against whom the boy has a grudge. The list is long, for all he already massacred an entire clan. Almost an entire clan. There is the one son left and a few distant cousins who married out. If it keeps the boy grateful and obedient enough, perhaps one of them will serve as a reward.
‘Promises, promises,’ Xue Chengmei says, almost singing, but the gleam in his eyes says he’s mollified.
With this part of the arrangements underway, Jin Guangyao leaves to join the witnesses. After this, there will be no possibility of Wei Wuxian’s reputation being saved and Er-ge will be the one who most wants to see the man dead.