Chapter Text
The soil was mushy, soft, and cold underneath its hands, which were curled into claws that grasp at the Earth. Mud was everywhere as it dragged itself onward, getting stuck in its long nails. Ultimately, the mess was inconsequential, just more grime to add to the layers of dirt, blood and rot caking its hands, clothes, hair and face. It was cold, cold enough to stiffen aching joints and muscles into stillness, but it was long been past the point where it would feel affected by such things. Now, nothing could stop it anymore. Not hunger, or cold, or weariness.
Hours dragged onto days, as the lone figure moved upward slowly and unrelentingly. Its hands gripped jagged rocks with shocking strength, uncaring of the rips and tears it left in its flesh. The chilly wind played with its dark hair. Its eyes looked upwards, focused only on one objective. The morning sky reflected in its eyes turned to night, and then morning in a repeating cycle.
Finally, one dusk, it reached the top.
One arm at a time, it heaved its body over the edge and rolled onto flat ground, finally allowing its abused body to rest. Torn flesh sewed itself back together over porcelain bone with a hiss. For a moment, everything was unnaturally still and quiet. Then it moved onward. Though it had finally overcome a huge hurdle, it hadn’t reached its destination yet. Driven on blindly by something it could no longer comprehend, it could not help but continue onward, stumbling clumsily towards one direction.
It had been too long, but finally, it was free.
Wordlessly, it called upon the name of someone it could not quite remember or forget. It told them that it was coming home. Soon.
.
.
.
***
When Wen Chao speaks, it’s like watching a pig have diarrhea, Jiang Cheng thinks, because nothing good ever comes out of that stinking mouth.
Beside him, Lan Wangji seemed to be having similar sentiments, as even his infallibly stony face appeared to possess a tinge of anger and frustration.
Wen Chao gloats, taking his sweet time to relish his victory as Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji kneel at his feet, bound and surrounded by Wen disciples. He preaches babble about the greatness of the Wen sect and other unnecessary tidbits of his own glory that go in and straight out the ears of his two esteemed audience members. Jiang Cheng honestly couldn't give a fuck about any of it.
All Jiang Cheng cares about at the moment, is his worries for his sister, hiding in the back mountains along with the rest of the civilians (he prays that they’ve avoided capture), and a certain phrase Wen Chao had said at the beginning of his rant.
“— and to think that you all thought this crummy, pathetic little hideout would be enough to hurt the great Wen sect! Hilarious, isn’t it? I bet it’ll be even more hilarious when I snuff out the last two surviving members of the Jiang sect —”
“Fuck you,” Jiang Cheng says, pretending that the the word ‘two’ instead of ‘three’ doesn’t ring in his ears and send him up the wall in distress, “Stop dancing around the subject. Where is Wei Wuxian?”
Wen Chao sneers, intending to hurt Jiang Cheng for his insolence, but the mention of Wei Wuxian seems to bring him a certain sense of joy and he steps back. “How rude of you to interrupt, Sector Leader Jiang . You’re all clearly lost without Wen sect’s guidance, all barbaric and uncouth. Ah yes, Wei Wuxian… I hear you’re all still looking for him?”
The thought greatly amuses Wen Chao, sending him into a fit of cackles. Jiang Cheng struggles not to throttle the man before he can tell him where his brother is.
“Ah, oh dear... I’m afraid that even if you search the heavens and the Earth, you wouldn’t find him.”
Wen Chao is jeering, dangling their hopes above them cruelly, holding back information about the person they both have been searching for tirelessly for months. Wen Chao’s provocation nearly pushes him over the edge. Surprisingly, it is Lan Wangji who loses his patience first.
“Where is Wei Ying!” He says through gritted teeth, struggling against his restraints in agitation. For once, despite all their differences, Jiang Cheng can totally empathize with his sentiments.
Watching his two foes writhe on their knees and look up at him in desperation and anger brings Wen Chao unparalleled satisfaction. He inches closer to them, eager to see their reactions to his next few words.
“Wei Wuxian… I threw him into the Burial Mounds a long time ago.”
Wen Chao grins, looking evermore greasy and nauseating.
“By now, I don’t think you’d even find his bones.”
The words takes a moment to settle in Jiang Cheng’s head, as the very thought of his brother in the depths of the Burial Mounds makes him feel cold. Lan Wangji roars, looking not at all like the infallible Lan Wangji he’s supposed to be, and somehow manages to break his restraints, surprising everyone. He charges at Wen Chao, pulling out his broken guqin from his pouch, and thrums a powerful wave at him by manually holding the strings.
Ever loyal and diligent, Wen Zhuliu rushes forward and repels the attack, sending Lan Wangji’s guqin flying one way, and Lan Wangji clumsily landing on his feet in another. Jiang Cheng takes the opportunity to grab a Wen disciple’s spiritual sword out of their hands and free himself, before backing away quickly from the glowing red palms which had taken his father, his mother, and parts of himself away from him.
But not anymore. Never again would he let them take away something precious to him, Jiang Cheng had sworn to himself.
(But yet, Wei Wuxian was…)
Jumping back to Lan Wangji’s side, he prepares himself, sure that Wen Chao would be giving the killing order at any minute now. Though Wen Chao had gotten enjoyment out of degrading them, Wen Chao wasn’t stupid enough to let them live for long; they were too important to the Sunshot campaign. Their deaths would cause a great decrease in power and morale, and possibly cost the success of the already faltering Sunshot campaign.
“Wei Wuxian has been waiting to reunite with you lot for a long time now,” Wen Chao cackles, gaining the courage to approach them from behind Wen Zhuliu. The Wen disciples close in on them. “It’s best not to keep him waiting.”
No, he wouldn't die here, Jiāng Cheng thinks, his eyes seeing red. Campaign or not, he wouldn’t die before squeezing the blood out of Wen Chao, crushing every bone in his body, and watching him choke on his own entrails for what he’s done to him, his family and his brother.
As the Wens charge forward, Wen Chao impassively watches the two take down numerous disciples despite being injured. He waits for the job to be done, uncaring how many Wen disciples are sacrificed in the process. In the end, with Wen Zhuliu’s help, Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji are once again brought down. It is inevitable; two cultivators, no matter how strong, could not face an entire army of Wens alone. Seeing that there is nothing left to do except deliver the killing blow, Wen Chao ushers the disciples aside, brandishing his own spiritual sword.
Jiang Cheng pants from exertion as he looks up into the greasy bastard’s eyes, wishing that the skies would make him drop dead. The sword is cold and piercing against his neck.
“Don’t expect this to be the last time you see me, Wen Chao,” he snarls, his voice powerful with hatred, “I’ll be back for you. Maybe as a resentful corpse. And then, nothing, not your pathetic clan nor your stupid Wen dog, will be able to hold me back from killing you slowly and painfully.”
Wen Chao blinks and laughs.
“Huh! Funny, Wei Wuxian said the exact same thing before I killed him. I guess you two really are brothers, despite Wei Wuxian being nothing more than cannon fodder.”
Jiang Cheng’s face scrunches up red in an uncontainable fury, as he curses and threatens Wen Chao with vitriol. Wen Chao doesn't care. Now that he had gotten his amusement, they were out of time. Wen Chao relishes in that power, as he brings his sword up, ready to end things.
“Send Wei Wuxian my regards.”
Jiang Cheng keeps his eyes open, refusing to lose eye contact with the man that had ruined everything. He wants to go down with hatred deep within his heart, ingrained forever, so that he may never rest at peace until Wen Chao is ripped to pieces. The sword comes down and he waits for the pain, for the change of view as the sword cleaves his head straight off.
But the sword never came.
***
Wei Wuxian wasn’t at the base of the mountain when he had descended, as Jiang Cheng thought he would be. He wasn’t at the tea shop they had agreed to meet at either.
For the first time, Jiang Cheng was truly without his brother. Without his presence, direction, without knowledge of where he would be.
Jiang Cheng searched the area for a while, before he had to flee, as the Wens invaded the city and made undercover movement far too risky. Jiang Cheng refused to get captured again. Jiang Cheng had just gotten his spiritual power back. He couldn’t bear losing it again.
(He would sit alone on the bed and flex his fingers, watching in awe as a beautiful pure light flooded the air above his fingertips. He wondered how he had ever taken this flowing vibrant energy for granted.)
Eventually, he met with the sects, discovering what they had called the Sunshot campaign. The name was quite fitting, he thought, remembering with an aching heart his shidi who was taken by Wang Lingjiao, who had shot down a kite that barely had any resemblance to a sun. Thirsty for revenge and justice, Jiang Cheng quickly joined them in their planning, and worked hard to revitalize the Jiang Sect. He stayed steadfast in his work and resilient in the face of protest from cowards and selfish cultivators seeking profit over all else. To everyone, he was the young, yet harsh, stern, and angry Sect Leader, Sandu Shengshou, Jiang Wanyin.
He cried in front of his sister.
Jiang Yanli held him as she had when they were little, brushing his hair back softly with her delicate fingers. Jiang Cheng, who had been on the run before undergoing strenuous procedures on Baoshan Sanren’s mountain, rigorously searching for his brother, and then tirelessly working as the leader of a budding sect and a struggling resistance, had all but broken down in her arms. She murmured sweet assurances in his hair, telling him that yes, their parents would be so, so proud of him, and that yes, despite all of their father’s criticisms, he was successfully upholding the Jiang Sect’s motto. He was doing well, she told him, full of warmth and love as she had always been. He was doing very well and she was very proud of him.
Jiang Cheng wondered how she was so strong. Jiang Yanli had only cried once, since Jiang Cheng had returned, and that was when Jiāng Cheng had presented her with proof of their parents’ death. Otherwise, she was always ready to be supportive and loving, always waiting with open arms to comfort her boys, one arm for each brother.
Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli both felt it. An achingly empty spot beside them, where there should be three instead of just two.
Wei Wuxian’s absence was more than just worrisome. Where was Wei Wuxian? That was a question that was often on Jiang Cheng’s mind, whether it be brought up his sister, himself, or surprisingly, the honourable Lan Wangji. Once Jiang Cheng joined the sects, he suddenly had less and less time to personally search for his brother, busy upholding numerous responsibilities and expectations. Every now and then, Lan Wangji would drop by and tell Jiang Cheng about what the spirits had told him through Inquiry, or whatever potential clues he had found. Jiang Cheng knew that the man couldn’t stand Wei Wuxian, so his interest in the subject really was unfathomable. He was nevertheless thankful that one of the most skilled cultivators of his generation was trying to help, and decided not to question it.
Some people suggested that Wei Wuxian had been captured by the Wen Sect, which sent Jiang Cheng’s imagination spiraling out of control. What could they be doing to Wei Wuxian? Would Wei Wuxian get beaten up like he was? Or worse, would they…
Some people suggested that Wei Wuxian had abandoned ship and ran away. Jiang Cheng scoffed, and pretended that his heart wasn’t broken by the very thought of Wei Wuxian betraying him.
On more tiresome nights, where it all seemed too much for a single person to bear, Jiang Cheng would sit in his chamber alone with dark circles under his eyes and his hair in disarray, fatigue seeming to permeate his entire body. The emptiness by his side would throb at him even more strongly.
Where are you Wei Wuxian? He sometimes asked bitterly, into the darkness of his room.
You promised that we would be the Yunmeng Twin Heroes. That you’d always stand by my side and support me as my right hand man.
I need you here now.
(I miss you, and I want you back.)
The days when Lan Wangji would visit, Jiang Cheng would pretend that he wasn’t perking up, eager to hear any sort of news about his brother at all. Some days Lan Wangji would bring clues, which would set them both off on a wild goose hunt that would lead to nothing. But on most days, the answer was the same.
Inquiry had yielded nothing. It was as if Wei Wuxian had truly disappeared into thin air.
***
“Preparations aren’t complete yet,” Jiang Cheng replied after a moment, watching the new Jiang Sect recruits training hard in the courtyard.
“We’re running out of time,” Lan Wangji stated, as if Jiang Cheng didn’t know, in his neutral, deadpan tone that never ceased to irritate the hell out of him. Lan Wangji always acted so far removed from everything, so detached from the material world, as if he wasn’t affected by the horrors of war.
“With all due respect, Second Master Lan, we are progressing as fast as possible. These disciples were just recruited two months ago.”
Indeed, the disciples that were training were far more skilled than what you’d expect from new recruits. However, progressing too fast was dangerous in certain areas of cultivation, and by speeding up their training, Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji both knew they were pushing it.
It couldn’t be helped. The Wen Sect was pushing into ally territory at rates far faster than expected. The disciples would need all the training they could get if they wanted to survive. And if they didn’t have enough time to finish training or building defenses...
Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth.
“We will prepare as much as we can.”
Lan Wangji watched Jiang Cheng silently for a moment, before nodding in understanding. They were both solemn.
Furthermore to their worries, Wen Chao had been sending out men to search for their stronghold, seeming to be acting independent of the rest of the Wen Sect which were focusing on the frontlines. While nothing had happened yet, it wouldn’t take much longer for the Wens to show up in Chongyang. If they managed to locate the settlement their base was set up in… it wouldn’t be good to say the least.
Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji stood side-by-side, watching over the training disciples, each lost in their own thoughts. Jiang Cheng took in the silence between them, as a question that never stopped prodding at him, like a particularly stubborn fruit fly, came to him once more. He thought better of asking, when he had already asked so many times, but the question nevertheless tumbled from his lips.
“...And Wei Wuxian?”
Lan Wangji was still for a moment, before he shook his head. Jiang Cheng thought he knew better by now, but the negative response still settled heavily in his gut.
After watching the disciples train a few moments longer with Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji turned to leave. He had traveled far to get to the stronghold, and would probably return to the GusuLan Sect to debrief them on the status of the Jiang Sect stronghold’s preparations. Jiang Cheng was just about ready to go back to his paperwork as well, before his head disciple came running and blocked his path.
“Sector... Sector leader Jiang,” he panted, giving a clumsy bow as he struggled to regain composure, “During our patrol, we apprehended someone hiding out in the bushes. They’re dressed from head to toe in black and they have a mask on. They had a red sun insignia hidden in their sleeves so we think they might be a…”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t have to guess to know what his head disciple is saying.
“Keep them outside. Bring me to them,” he commanded, and followed along as the head disciple quickly took him to the front gates.
He arrived to see a squad of his more senior disciples restraining a slim figure in black, keeping them immobile.
“Did anyone attempt to remove their mask?” He asked, to which the squad leader shook his head.
“We were going to, but there’s a talisman embedded in it. We don’t recognize it, so we’re hesitant to touch it.”
Jiang Cheng examined the mask. The talisman revealed itself after Jiang Cheng inserted his spiritual energy, and he quickly found that it is a convoluted explosive spell but nothing too dangerous. Jiang Cheng removed it and took off the mask.
Beneath the mask was a young girl with big doe eyes, someone Jiang Cheng quickly recognized as one of their newest recruits. All of their recruits were screened to prevent the possibility of spies, but it was possible that this one managed to evade the process.
“Fan QingXiu,” Jiang Cheng stated sternly, to which the young girl flinched in her heavy restraints, “Explain yourself.”
“It — it isn’t what it looks like Sector Leader Jiang,” the girl said with a low, trembling voice, shrinking into herself. “I was just in the middle of training, but I got taken by a man in black. He dressed me in this by force, and then stuck that mask to my face, then left me there, where a patrol would definitely come across me.“
“Why should we believe you?” his head disciple snorted, looking at her with narrowed eyes. The girl stared at him for a moment before her eyes widened in recognition, and she threw herself back amongst the disciples restraining her.
“It’s you, it’s—!” She gasped, “When the man kidnapped me, I struggled hard enough to see his face. He definitely had your face!”
The head disciple’s face became red, as he shouted, “How dare you accuse me of being a spy?!”
“He probably wanted to lure you out of the stronghold Sector Leader Jiang! He must be planning for something to happen while you’re distracted—”
“Stop rambling lies, you—”
“I’m not lying I swear —!”
“Enough!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, and the two fell silent. While the girl’s rambles could just be lies, it was true that he should not be outside of the stronghold for very long, “Search her again for anything suspicious and take her in for further questioning. Take Liu Hebei too.”
“But— But Sector Leader Jiang! Please, I’ve only ever been loyal!” the head disciple exclaimed, looking incredibly wronged. Jiang Cheng sighed, and turned a blind eye to his pleading, “Please, I—!”
Liu HeBei gasped, which drew Jiang Cheng’s attention, “Sector Leader Jiang, watch out!”
The boy pushed him aside, and suddenly blood sprayed everywhere as a sword carved a long deep crevice into his head disciple’s back. Jiang Cheng watched the boy topple, as the squad leader flicked his blood off of his sword.
The squad leader, Li ShuPing, gave a cruel smile.
“My name is Wen ShuPing, and I’m the spy,”
Then he dropped a dozen explosive talismans, each powerful enough to blow a large fiery crater in the Earth.
***
They were not ready.
Jiang Yanli panted heavily, as she herded the civilians towards the back mountain with a squad of younger disciples, running back and forth helping the old, the crippled, and the young make the journey.
They needed more time.
They were out of time. As soon as they heard the massive explosion by the front gates, which had blown a hole in the thick wall that was meant to stand strong against opposition, they knew that it was time to evacuate the area. It was time to go so that they would not be a burden to their friends and family among the cultivators fighting for their freedom.
Jiang Yanli had heard that Jiang Cheng was at the front gates when the explosion occurred. The hot, blazing inferno had reduced everything within 30 meters of it to ash.
Jiang Yanli clenched her teeth. She needed to concentrate on her task. Her baby brother was a leader, a fighter, and he was fine.
(Because by God, she couldn’t lose another.)
They left under the red light of a Wen Sect signal flare, telling the Wen Sect soldiers that had surely surrounded the area to begin closing in.
Just as she had doused the fire on a poor child's clothes, she noticed a white speck in the distance, growing in size with every passing second. Her heart leapt with hope. Second Master Lan. He must’ve turned back when he heard the explosion or saw the signal.
Lan Wangji noticed her, amongst the trail of civilians discreetly evacuating to the back mountains, and descended to help. She rushed over to him.
“An explosion took place at the front gates, seeming to target A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli quickly summarized, anxious with worry, “The Wens are primarily coming in through the front gates and north wing. Please go support A-Cheng, I can handle the civilians!”
With nothing left to say, and evermore a soul of brevity, Lan Wangji nodded and flew off. Jiang Yanli watched him head towards the front gates for a moment, before quickly resuming her work. They weren’t prepared, but she prayed that with Lan Wangji’s help, it would be enough.
It had to be.
***
The screaming isn’t nearly as satisfying as the terrified look on Wen Chao’s face, when suddenly a dozen Wen disciples dropped to their knees and his sword was knocked out of his hands. Immediately, like the coward he truly was, Wen Chao dove behind Wen Zhuliu and started screeching for back up.
The sky had darkened to a vibrant green due to resentful energy, so concentrated and dense that the energy could be seen as pulsating, dark masses that moved as if it had a life of its own. Without the crowd of Wens around them, Jiang Cheng could see his surroundings as chaos descended upon them.
It sent chills up his spine.
All sorts of unearthly horrors come at them from every direction. They come with vigour, countless in number, and they tear at the Wens, ripping them apart in every way imaginable. It is loud, as inhuman screeches fuse with human screams in a twisted harmony.
Bodies are flung around, mangled and broken, with heads bashed in and guts spilling out. Bodies are hung upon black spikes emanating from an unknown source. Bodies are half-devoured and then regurgitated.
Flesh is liquefied, oozing off of bones. Everything smells putrid. Blood dyes everything a shade redder.
Crows fly overhead, the only beings apparently unaffected by the resentful energy, seeming conditioned to expect a hefty meal.
The raging fire surrounding them flickers warm and cool.
And amongst it all, all the chaos and murder, a dark figure is perched upon a tall roof, back lit by the silvery round moon.
Calm. Quiet.
Watching.
***
Lan Wangji, looking as elegant and composed as ever, took a sip of his tea as Jiang Cheng flipped through the document he presented.
Reports spoke of strange findings of Wen settlements completely wrecked by unknown forces, leaving behind destroyed infrastructure, mangled corpses, and no survivors. Those settlements were located far from the front lines, deep within enemy territory, making it nearly impossible for any allying sects to have committed the act. Accompanying descriptions were graphic, violent, and colourful, as every Wen seemed to have died in different disturbing ways.
Jiang Cheng relished every line.
“Your thoughts?” Jiang Cheng asked, when he reached the end of the report.
“Only Wen Sect settlements have been targeted. All unaffiliated parties are left alone or avoided,” Lan Wangji pointed to the map laid across the table, where the path of destruction had skipped over a village of civilians and a sect that had claimed neutrality.
“So an ally.”
“Possible,” Lan Wangji paused, before reciting, “Do not presume.”
Jiang Cheng held himself back from rolling his eyes in the interest of maintaining good relations, and flipped back to a page where the image of an intricate talisman was depicted.
“Well, with trinkets such as this, I can see where your reluctance to trust comes from.”
Lan Wangji narrowed his eyes. He set down his tea cup quietly, and spoke almost accusingly, “They cultivate the wrong path.”
Jiāng Cheng smiled and tossed the report onto the table right between them, beneath Lan Wangji’s piercing golden stare.
“We’re at war right now, honourable Second Master Lan. And we’ve found that our enemy has another, quite powerful enemy. Right path, wrong path, what does it matter?”
The room was dyed purple as the cool metal around Jiang Cheng’s finger made the air dance with lightning. Lan Wangji remained cold and unflinching as Jiang Cheng’s smile twisted into an ugly, petrifying, blood thirsty grin.
“As long as they kill Wen dogs, they are my ally.”
***
It was over before it even started. By the time the dark figure had descended to the ground, the only standing Wens left in sight were Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu. Everyone else had been ground to a pulp. Eradicated like pests. Bodies littered the floor in hundreds.
The endless army of undead, ghouls, spirits, and monsters surrounding them were eerily calm, ordered, and still, as their master came towards them one heavy step at a time. With every step, Wen Chao cowered a little more. Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji watched cautiously.
Finally losing his nerve, Wen Chao turns to run, telling Wen Zhuliu to cover his escape. He makes it all of ten steps, before a pair of blackened and burnt hands emerges from the ground and grabs at his ankles, causing him to fall. Wen Chao panics, tries to kick away the hands but to no avail. Their grip is painfully tight, leaving angry red marks on his skin. When Wen Chao looks up, the dark figure is suddenly towering over him. He holds his breath in fear.
The soft clouds obscuring the moon is blown away by gentle winds, bathing the figure in cold moonlight.
Jiang Cheng’s heart stops when he sees the tattered, dirty Jiang Sect uniform.
The bell.
The unruly hair.
And the blackened veins.
His brother lips quirk, in an imitation of a smile. He looks dazed, as if he is still dreaming. He kneels down and caresses Wen Chao’s blanched face with the most delicate, reverent touch.
“Wen Chao” he whispers, his voice broken and mangled by time and disuse. “We meet again.”