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Chapter Text

Lan Jingyi wakes up with a dry mouth, a crick in his neck, and the absolute worst headache he’s ever had in his life.

He groans, curling on his side like a particularly undignified shrimp. God, this is worse than the first time he tried to kick a ball and fell flat on his back, worse than the time a celebrating teammate accidentally hit him in the face post-championship win, worse than the time an opposing team member purposely hit him in the face because their team sucked balls and they were bitter about it! And unlike that last scenario, Lan Jingyi doesn’t even have the luxury of fighting back this time because that would mean punching himself.

Swearing internally, he burrows further under the blankets and -

Wait.

Blanket? That makes no sense. He and his friends went to a concert, and even if it’s one of the best and most surreal concerts in the world, blankets are not a usual concert giveaway. He frowns, burrows even further, rubs the coarse material against his cheeks. Not that they would refuse a free blanket with Xiao Xingchen’s signature, of course, they weren’t stupid. But then, Lan Jinyi would also rather freeze to death first before using such a precious souvenir. Xiao Xingchen had been out of the music scene for like a hundred years! That theoretical blanket would be a treasure! Hanguang-Jun even -

He even -

Lan Jingyi freezes as the events come pouring back in: black-clad soldiers barging into their hotel room, that horrible car ride through Yiling’s forest, Wen Chao’s insane-sounding speech abruptly cutting off when the earth started shaking, and his uncle’s command to hide when he pushed Lan Jingyi and his friends through a waterfall’s powerful curtain, just before everything went to hell. Adrenaline-infused Lan strength meant all three of them went tumbling through it in a wet heap, and who knew that only a few feet inside it was a gaping dark hole on the ground? They’d fallen, all screaming, and the last thing Lan Jingyi remembers is a loud, terrible explosion that shook him to his bones. Enough to send giant rocks falling, enough to probably not only kill all their kidnappers but also his -

“UNCLE!” Lan Jingyi shrieks, panicked, and in his haste to abruptly sit upright he gets himself twisted in the sheets and tumbles to the floor in a graceless heap. He swears, heart pounding, terror settling in. What happened? Where’s everybody? Why -

“Aiya, stop that!”

Lan Jingyi takes in maybe eighty pounds of dust and dirt on his surprised inhale, sending him into a coughing fit. There’s the sound of footsteps quickly coming closer, and he struggles madly. He hacks out half a lung, and as he attempts to detangle himself from the blankets and regain some sense of dignity, he feels hands help him sit back up on the bed. They’re brisk but gentle, pairing well with the exasperation in the stranger’s voice, and the incongruity of that care with the way his whole body feels like absolute shit has him wrenching his eyes open.

The first thing Lan Jingyi sees is a pair of eyes, glowing red and eerie.

The first thing Lan Jingyi does is to try and punch them, screaming holy hell.

“I - oh my god! Careful!” the stranger cries, swiftly dodging, and only their grip stops Lan Jingyi from toppling up and over the bed. The movement throws their features into light, the torches against the wall dancing merrily across skin, and suddenly Lan Jingyi finds himself looking at the warm brown eyes - not red, not red - of a face that, while looking a little thin, actually looks quite human.

A man.

Or at least, Lan Jingyi thinks with slowly growing hysteria, something that looks like a man. After everything that’s happened he’s pretty sure that’s not out of the realm of possibility. Like: strong and fast, for one thing. The metal-cold hands gripping his arm, for another. The pale skin. The whole black-and-red aesthetic of his robes. The smell of sulfur hanging in the air and - and - and, well, the thing is that his whole family is weirdly into collecting weapons, okay, and they have taken the whole thing into a higher art. Therefore, Lan Jingyi is going to bet his own soul that if he shows the giant, wicked-looking one strapped behind the man’s back to his dad there will be tears of joy, right before Nie Mingjue grounds him forever because how the fuck did his son get himself killed by a real honest-to-god saber???

“What are you - that thing - I - ” Lan Jingyi splutters.

“Why are kids these days so dramatic? I swear you made me deaf!” the man complains, and he nudges Lan Jingyi to sit down properly and bundles him up again in the blankets. He unsheathes the thing from his back - and, yes, that is definitely a goddamned saber - and somehow, between one blink and the next - and Lan Jingyi swears he was watching - the saber becomes a black, sleek-looking flute.

He stares, and then he suddenly remembers just what, exactly, Wen Chao screamed at his uncle’s face, what exactly his hostage-taking, monster-transforming soldiers were looking for, and Lan Jingyi quickly revises his assessment from ‘possible sword-wielding vampire’ to ‘possible fucking sword-wielding de-’

The man raises his eyebrows, twirling the flute deftly between his fingers, and says, “There. Is this better?”

Maybe it’s because of an undiagnosed head wound. Maybe it’s because of shock. Maybe it’s because - as his Uncle Huiasang lovingly puts it - Lan Jingyi was born with the self-preservation instincts of a drunk lemur, but Lan Jingyi goes with his first instinctual response, and so -

“That is not helping your case!” he shrieks again.

The man cringes. “So loud!” he says, “I told you - oh, no,” and his face abruptly switches to dismay, his eyes catching on Lan Jingyi’s shoulder. “ Look, you’re bleeding again!” He moves closer, but Lan Jingyi’s having none of it.

“My friends!” Lan Jingyi demands. He has to find them, and then they have to find Hanguang-Jun - who is not dead, Lan Jingyi swears - and then they have to get the hell out of this stupid mountain. He jerks away from the reaching hand, scooting back - and, ow, fuck, okay, so he is bleeding again.

Gingerly, Lan Jingyi presses a hand against the oozing wound and stammers, as brave as he can, “Where are they? I swear if you hurt them I’ll - I’ll kill you! Don’t think I won’t!”

“Loud, dramatic, and violent,” the man sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Relax, kid, your friends are safe, but you won’t be if you keep bleeding!” He moves to go closer again, arms up as a show of peace, but before he can get any closer he suddenly stops, cocking his head.

Lan Jingyi tenses, warily watching as the man’s eyes glaze for the briefest second. Is he mind-reading? Is he - possessed? Astral projecting? Will he see if he makes a run for it? Lan Jingyi can try. He’s fast. He can totally do it. But before he can even muster up the courage, a pleased look crosses the man’s face, and he gives Lan Jingyi a smug look. “Told you,” he says, and what?

“Jingyi!”

Lan Jingyi whips his head to the side just in time to see Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen stumbling out of a small tunnel, and all thoughts of running fly out his head. Just like him, his friends are both in ruined sleeping clothes and flimsy complimentary hotel slippers. Jin Ling has a spectacular black eye and Ouyang Zizhen’s lower lip is busted, swelling like crazy. They both look like shit, like they woke up and picked a fight with a sentient dumpster, like they went five rounds with a herd of wild boars and lost, and Lan Jingyi thinks they’re the most goddamn beautiful sight in the world.

He makes to run to them, but then a firm hand’s suddenly slapping against his shoulder - his wounded shoulder, fuck, ow - and the man says, long-suffering, “please do not.”

“I will throw hands,” Lan Jingyi informs him, narrowing his eyes - his friends are here and supernatural or not he will Cause Problems On Purpose if he tries to stop him! A baffled look crosses the man’s face, but before Lan Jingyi can follow through with his promise Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling are suddenly just there. He shakes off the man distractedly, promptly informs his friends, “You’re the ugliest things I’ve ever seen,” and tackles them both to the ground.

“Says the guy who looks like shit! Jingyi, your shoulder is bleed - ”

“You guys look like shit! I’m so glad you’re both alive, what the fuck -”

“GUYS, WE’RE ALL ALIVE! CUT IT OUT!”

Lan Jinyi’s not exactly in a state to hug, but his friends somehow find a way to safely squeeze him to death anyway. Ouyang Zizhen’s babbling in the way he does when he’s about to cry from stress, and Jin Ling’s yelling in that way he does when he’s emotional and mad about it, and Lan Jingyi’s just so maniacally happy to see them he actually tears up. They’re all talking over one another, gripping each other like lifelines, and it would have devolved into a manfully heartfelt cry-fest if someone did not pointedly clear his throat

All three of them stop, and Lan Jingyi abruptly jerks up -

“Hi,” the man says. He’s migrated a few feet away from them, arms crossed and surveying them with interest. His gaze slides to Lan Jingyi, pausing, and then he asks: “How’s your shoulder?”

Lan Jingyi’s about to retort, his shoulders rising defensively, before he notices the significant lack of pain from moving them and stops. “What the hell,” he says, and he looks down, bewildered. As he stumbles back up, barely noticing his friends doing the same, he raises his hand and slaps at the bloodstained area lightly, feeling more and more incredulous when it’s completely and utterly -

“Honestly, you have got to stop re-injuring yourself,” the man sighs, and suddenly he’s much closer again and gently but firmly pulling Lan Jingyi’s hand back. He looks to Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling and asks, exasperated: “Is he always like this?”

“Yes,” Jin Ling says immediately.

“HEY!”

“Always!” Ouyang Zizhen says, the traitor. Lan Jingyi shoots him a betrayed look, but Ouyang Zizhen’s too busy staring at the man, strangely uncertain and a little awed. “Are you - did you - ” and then he clams up when the man acknowledges him with an interested tilt of the head. And Jin Ling - Jin Ling’s not helping. He’s pretty much looking the same, except he’s standing ramrod straight and looking a little intense, which he usually only gets with adults he actually wants to impress.

What is going on? Why is there no suspicion?

“Ah,” An amused half-smile appears on the man’s face, and he says, “I presume you met my son?”

“Yes, we did. Thank you for helping Jingyi and taking care of Jingyi!” Jin Ling bursts out. It’s hilariously awkward in the way only Jin Ling can be, but then he and Ouyang Zizhen actually bow to him and at this point Lan Jingyi’s just too confused to do anything except stare, open-mouthed, and ask, “What??”

“Ah, no, don’t!” the man hurries forward to catch them and pull them upright. “I didn’t do anything! He’s fine! Hell, he’s strong enough to try and punch me!”

And then Lan Jingyi’s friends swivel to stare at him, aghast.

Lan Jingyi’s stares at them back, incredulous. At Ouyang Zizhen’s pleading wide-eyed look, he jerks his head minutely to the man’s magic-wielding, goth-aesthetic direction, ‘Seriously???’ written all over his face. He’s usually very confident about their ability to understand one another. Like, Auntie Yanli says it’s because they have profound bonds of friendship. Mr. Ouyang says it’s because they were sent on this earth to give him stress ulcers. But the point still stands! Is he interpreting Ouyang Zizhen’s look wrong? After all this time?

… Ouyang Zizhen’s pleading wide-eyed stare blinks meaningfully, and yeah, no, that definitely means ‘BE NICE, JINGYI’. He’s been on the receiving end of that plenty of times in all the years he’s known him.

On the other hand, Jin Ling’s furious glare definitely says, ‘BE COOL, YOU IDIOT’. There’s no way Lan Jingyi can misunderstand. Not only does Jin Ling have years-long friendship and expressive eyebrows on his side, he is also currently stepping on Lan Jingyi’s toes. Hard.

“Actually, I should be saying sorry,” the man continues, oblivious to all of this, and now he looks contrite, “Your group took a new route. There was an old trap in that detour, one that I’d forgotten.” He points to Lan Jingyi and tells them, “But I’m happy to tell you that your friend only got knocked out for a while, and he doesn’t have any inside bleeding,” and then he looks at Lan Jingyi pointedly and says, “Your only serious injury is that shoulder, and if you don’t re-open it again it should be good as - ”

“Ahh, it’s not just for that!” Ouyang Zizhen blurts out, wringing his hands, and when all he receives is a questioning look he adds, “We’re grateful for that, yes, but also thank you for sending A-Yuan? He said you’re his dad? He saved our lives!”

“Oh,” the man relaxes, “it’s nothing! I’m glad we found you on time.”

Ouyang Zizhen beams before he freezes, looking mildly panicked, and quickly says, “I mean - not that we abandoned him, oh god. We definitely offered to help, I swear we did, but - well - he refused and we’re, you know, human -”

The man lets out a surprised giggle then.

“What,” Lan Jingyi says.

“Yeah,” Ouyang Zizhen says sheepishly, “Yeah, we know. He didn’t really need - he definitely didn’t need it.” And at Lan Jingyi’s confusion, Ouyang Zizhen turns to fully face him, clutches his shoulders, and says, “We got captured, Jingyi! Right after we fell! There were twelve of them and they kicked us around and tied us up and we seriously thought we were going to die, but then A-Yuan was suddenly just there and - ” he takes a deep breath and shakes Lan Jingyi, face changing to disbelieving awe, “Oh, my god, Jingyi, he kicked so much ass! He beat them up like it was nothing! Like their claws were nothing! It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“He used one guard like a baseball bat,” Jin Ling hisses from his other side, “And hit like five others in one go. And then one of them got behind his back and tried to eat him but he pulled a flute out of nowhere and - ”

“It transformed into a giant sword and stabbed them?” Lan Jingyi asks weakly.

This only serves to tip the giggling man straight into laughter. It’s loud, full-bellied and infectious, and now, with Lan Jingyi knowing that the man and his son apparently saved his friends’ lives, he can grudgingly admit that it’s even somewhat nice, hearing someone who laughs like that. He starts to let his guard down a little bit. After being hypervigilant and stressed for the past god knows how many days, Lan Jingyi thinks that maybe now the universe finally decided to give them a break and pointed them to the one being who doesn’t want to kill them.

Suddenly, the image of Xiao Xingchen’s personal assistant flashes in his mind, and Lan Jingyi tenses back up. Actually, that guy was okay too…. at first.

Granted, Xue Yang had slimier vibes compared to this one, but still.

“What, no, what are you talking about?” Jin Ling is saying, “He rammed the flute straight through the balls. I - wait,” he stops, squints, possibly clocking in on Lan Jingyi’s internal debate, “Why do I feel like you’re speaking from experience here - ”

“So you’re really not going to kill us?” Lan Jingyi asks abruptly.

“Jingyi!” Ouyang Zizhen cries. Jin Ling slaps a hand against his own forehead

“Nope,” the man says easily. He’s stopped laughing, but now he’s looking at them all with an amused, almost indulgent look, and the deja vú makes Lan Jingyi’s stomach twist. He’s abruptly reminded of the days after their football team won regionals. All their families celebrated by holding an embarrassingly huge get-together, and during that time the three of them tried (and failed) to convince the adults - as a reward for busting their ass and beating like eight million other teams, of course - to let them go to the Xiao Xingchen concert via a table discussion and the best powerpoint presentation they’ve ever made in their lives.

In the morning after, Lan Jingyi had sat his parents down on the breakfast table and flailed about trust and independence and the incredible life skills his magnificent parents had given him and “it’s only a few hours away please, parentals, Iloveyousomuuuuch”. Nie Mingjue had laughed really hard - laughed a little like that, actually - because he’d raised his own little brother and he’s too used to drama to be taken in, and Lan Xichen - well, Lan Xichen had listened to Lan Jingyi quietly, chin cupped in his hand, and all the while he’d had that same exact look on his face.

Two days after that, Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen’s own little brother and Lan Jingyi’s coolest but rarer-than-a-rare-pokemon uncle, arrived home for the holidays. Two seconds after seeing their powerpoint he’d agreed to chaperone. The three of them had been ecstatic.

Lan Jingyi shakes his head, banishing those thoughts. “And you’re a - what are you even? A spirit? A vampire? A ghoul? A- a something?”

“A something,” is what he gets. Lan Jingyi scowls, and the man amends, “I’m the guardian of this mountain.” It’s equally unhelpful, and Lan Jingyi scowls even harder, but this time all he gets is a brilliant grin in return. And, really, it’s so aggravating and just - ugh, fine. Fine! They all know he’s not human. He’s basically admitted it himself! Furthermore, it seems like everyone they’ve met the past twenty four hours is not even human, anyway! The only bar this man really has to cross is the absence of wanting to kill them, and since it looks likely then Lan Jingyi will take what he can get!

But he’s hiding something, a voice inside him points out, sounding remarkably like Uncle Huaisang, Better watch out.

“Fine,” Lan Jingyi says, pushing that voice down, but he points two fingers to his own eyes and then back again at the man’s face, “But I’m watching you, old m - ”

“Oh, come off it, Jingyi!” Jin Ling bursts out, exasperated. “He’s obviously not the Yiling Patriarch!”

The man blinks. “Obviously?” he echoes.

“You think the Yiling Patriarch’s gonna send his son to rescue us?” Jin Ling barrels on, “You think he cares enough to heal you?”

“I,” Lan Jingyi says with as much dignity as he can muster, “Am being carefu - ow! Jin Ling!”

“You’re being stubborn and I know you know it,” Jin Ling raises his hand again threateningly, ready to pinch him again, “You’re still talking. You’re actively talking to him. You were about to call him ‘old man’! When was the last time you talked to my grandfather, huh? You’ve known him for years and you’ve never even acknowledged his existence!”

“Old man?” said old man echoes again, but Lan Jingyi’s too busy gagging at the mere thought of talking to Jin Guangshan and says, “Why would I - Your grandfather’s a pervert and I don’t like him!”

“No one likes him,” Jin Ling says without missing a beat, and then he raises an eyebrow, waiting for his revelation.

Shit. Lan Jingyi refuses to look at him. “Maybe not the Yiling Patriarch then,” Lan Jingyi mutters, “but he can be one of his followers, though. He had red eyes and his flute turned into a saber - ”

“And those people turned into monsters! Who wanted to eat us! What is your point?”

“Jin Ling’s right,” Ouyang Zizhen says, nodding empathetically, “And that Wen Chao guy literally used human sacrifices to call the Yiling Patriarch. He’s someone who wants human sacrifices, Jingyi! And also someone who’s still not answering despite Wen Chao’s many human sacrifices! Do you think he’d bother trying to trick us? We’re like, the equivalent of canon fodder. He’d just eat us point-blank.”

“That’s depressing,” Lan Jingyi informs him.

“But true!” Ouyang Zizhen counters cheerfully, and then he turns to the man and says, “Don’t worry, we trust you, Senior - uh,” he blinks, faltering, “oh shit - ”

“Wei,” the man says, and he sounds a little strangled.

“Senior Wei!” Ouyang Zizhen finishes gratefully. “We definitely don’t think you’re the Yiling Patriarch!”

“I mean, obviously you’re magical,” Jin Ling quickly points out, as if to emphasize that he’s not as trusting and unobservant as a newborn lamb, “A-Yuan also is too, but like, you helped us! There’s also no pile of human sacrifices and no - uh, you know, virgins around here being drained of blood or anything like what they said,'' he flails a hand around to encompass the dank cave they’re in, spacious but dreary: a hard stone bed with a messy pile of threadbare blankets, a few torches mounted on the walls to give light, shelves half-full of unknown trinkets and jars, and a slab of rock at the far wall groaning under the weight of inkpots, books, and scrolls, “so it’s - what I mean to say is: You are okay in our books!” he finally says loudly, turning bright red at his show of eloquence.

“I - Thanks, that’s - ” Senior Wei trails away, glances down at his flute for the briefest of seconds, before he looks back at them again. “So this Wen Chao’s the one who’s trampling all over my mountain, eh? I never got his name,” he says casually, “Why does he think human sacrifices are gonna help him with the Yiling Patriarch?”

“Because the Yiling Patriarch’s like an evil demon lord?” Jin Ling says, shrugging, missing the strange look that briefly passes over Senior Wei’s face. “I mean, Wen Chao didn’t say it that way, but it was pretty obvious from his stories: human sacrifices, human experimentation, torturing humans, eating humans - ” he says, ticking them off on fingers one by one, before he makes a face and ends with, “he just sounds awful.”

“He said the Yiling Patriarch fed his own family to demonic cultivation just to become more powerful,” Ouyang Zizhen shudders, “Wen Chao obviously wants to be like him, starting with human sacrifices. He’s obsessed.”

“And he’s succeeding,” Lan Jingyi points out grimly, because while Wen Chao had obsessively villain-monologued the entire tortuous trip through the Yiling forest, it was ten times more terrifying because they knew it was far from fiction. Demonic cultivation exists and they saw it with their own eyeballs! His uncle even confirmed there really was a Yiling Patriarch! Granted, he did say that the Yiling Patriarch was just a normal cultivator, but that was before they met Wen Chao, and it’s pretty hard to believe that after seeing what Wen Chao did to his own personal army.

“Wen Chao has the Yiling Patriarch’s work,” Lan Jingyi tells Senior Wei. “He has this - he calls it the Yin Iron, or at least a part of it, and he says he used it to summon monsters,” and he roughly estimates the size of that strange stone he saw in Wen Chao’s hands with his own, cupping his hands together. He makes a face, remembering another piece of frankly disturbing information, “And also to change his men into monsters. Like, I’m talking claws and spikes and scales and stuff,” He tries to simulate what they’d looked like with his hands, but he quickly gives up because it’s impossible to describe the horror show they saw when they were first brought to this mountain. “It was wild,” he says.

“And fierce corpses,” Ouyang Zizhen points out.

“And fierce corpses,” Jin Ling agrees, and Lan Jingyi shudders. He doesn’t say that those were, at least for him, the worst. From what Wen Chao said, the ones who turned into monsters were those who willingly wanted to become more powerful. The fierce corpses were those who refused.

“Right. Right, okay, that sounds - that sounds about right,” Senior Wei says. He has a faraway look in his eyes, and Lan Jingyi wonders if he knows that he’s gripping his flute in a white-knuckled fist. He looks… subdued, actually. Grayer. Lan Jingyi feels a surge of guilt. Senior Wei did save them, didn’t he? If it weren’t for Senior Wei and this mysterious A-Yuan, they’d be dead, and Lan Jingyi’s response to that was to accuse him of being a literal demon lord.

Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling are shooting glances at him now, one imploring and the other threatening bodily pain, and Lan Jingyi, a little shamefaced, musters up his courage and opens his mouth to apologize -

“Father!”

All four of them startle at the voice, turning to the entrance of the tunnel where Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen came from. There’s a pinprick of light zipping towards them fast. As it comes closer, Lan Jingyi sees that it’s a small, delicate-looking butterfly, its tiny iridescent wings leaving trails of golden dust. It makes a beeline for Senior Wei, who holds out a hand for it to land on, and the minute it’s stable they hear the voice again.

“Father!” it says again, louder, and Jin Ling’s hissed, “Oh my god, is that A-Yuan?” is drowned as it continues, “I found their reinforcements at the border. I will deal with them now, but I think you should know that - ” there’s a pause like the speaker stopped breathing, before they continue in a lower tone, “They said the main group is now in the center. Wen Chao found someone who can read the book. Really read it. They’re making an array to destroy the lock.”

“Oh, are they now?” Senior Wei says grimly, something sharp and indecipherable crossing his face, but Lan Jingyi is too busy feeling like he’d been struck by lightning to parse it. The same realization dawns through his friends, each of them sharing a split-second of horrified understanding, because those words -

“Destroy it, Lan Wangji,” Wen Chao said, his gun swinging from Hanguang-Jun’s direction to theirs, “Or your brats are dead.”

“Blue forehead ribbon?” Lan Jingyi abruptly asks, hardly daring to believe it. The three of them cluster around the butterfly, perched on Senior Wei’s hand. “Blue forehead ribbon, white shirt, pajamas with - with bunnies?”

A pause. “They never talked about the clothes, but the forehead ribbon - yes.” the butterfly - A-Yuan - says. Then, cautiously: “Do you - ”

“You know him?” Senior Wei asks, frowning.

“He’s my uncle,” Lan Jingyi chokes out, and the relief that bursts in his chest is overwhelming enough that he has to press his palms against his closed eyes and just breathe. “Fuck, I can’t believe he’s there - ”

“He’s family?” Senior WeI’s tone is surprisingly dark, and when Lan Jingyi looks up he sees the frown has deepened, angry and foreboding. Before he can even ask why he looks like that, Senior Wei wipes it away and takes a deep breath, visibly calming himself, and then he smiles.

“Okay, so!” Senior Wei says brightly, “Change of plans: I’ll kill him first and then Wen Ch - ”

Whatever he has to say is drowned by the flood of yells coming from all three of them.

“I - what - no!” Lan Jingyi splutters, the first to regain coherence. “He’s my uncle! We have to save him!”

“Hanguang-Jun’s also a victim!” Jin Ling says, upset, “Wen Chao threatened to kill us! He got beat up too!”

“...Huh,” Senior Wei blinks, taking this all in, and the darkness on his face turns into honest confusion. After a pregnant pause, he says, slow and careful, “So I take it that this uncle of yours did not offer you all to Wen Chao as human sacrifices to the Yiling Patriarch -”

“HANGUANG-JUN WOULD NEVER!” Ouyang Zizhen booms, and that sends all of them off again.

Senior Wei cringes, and he quickly raises his hand up in the universal signal to stop.

“Alright! Alright!” he says loudly, and the three of them abruptly do, staring at him and holding their breath. Senior Wei starts to mutter, “What kind of name even is Hanguang-Jun - ” but he cuts himself off and shakes his head. He pinches the bridge of his nose, like he’s staving off a very painful teenager-shaped migraine, and then he looks up at the ceiling and says, “You know what? We’ll unpack that later. There is clearly some misunderstanding here.”

And then Senior Wei gives them a hard stare, hands on his hips, and commands, “Explain.”

The story comes out in bursts of barely coherent sentences and clumsy demonstrations, as all three of them attempt to quickly and concisely explain the batshit insanity that was the last few days. How they won tickets for a concert by their favorite singer, went to said concert chaperoned by Lan Jingyi’s reserved but surprisingly cool uncle, somehow made friends with the singer’s awesome adopted ward, and how the post-concert meet-and-greet session that ticket was supposed to get them was abruptly cancelled because the singer had apparently been kidnapped. Their new friend was distraught, missing a dad and ready to wreak hell to find him, so how could they do anything else but help? Of course they did! And when they eventually found her dad -

“A ritual?” Senior Wei says, eyebrows raised to his hairline.

“Yeah, like he cut himself and used his own blood,” Jin Ling says, making slashing motions on his own wrist, “And then he did the same with Xiao Xingchen, except he freaking stabbed him! We honestly thought he killed - ”

“But Xue Yang didn’t!” Lan Jingyi says quickly, because that was and will forever be a horrifying thought. “We stopped him!”

With some (a lot) of help from his uncle and Xiao Xingchen’s partner, who masterfully hit Xue Yang with his car just when he almost escaped, but: technicalities.

“Xue Yang,” Senior Wei echoes, and something in his tone pings Lan Jingyi’s radar and has him looking -

“That guy was obsessed with Xiao Xingchen,” Ouyang Zizhen says, derailing his trail of thought. “A-Qing said that even before this he was already so creepy. The ritual was going to get this Yiling Patriarch to tie them together forever - ”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Senior Wei says, with the kind of steadfast incredulity that in any other case Lan Jingyi would have commiserated on, but this time it’s drowned by the sudden wave of worry for his uncle because that’s what he said too.

“That’s what Hanguang-Jun said!” Jin Ling says triumphantly, “Xue Yang was being such a dick even after he was arrested! He kept threatening Xiao Xingchen, and Hanguang-Jun got so pissed and basically told him he was stupid.”

Stupid was an understatement. Hanguang-Jun somehow gave a really engrossing mini-lecture in a few cutting sentences, thrumming with deep and obvious disdain for Xue Yang’s entire existence. Lan Jingyi’s uncle was apparently not only an expert in cultivation history, but he was also practically fluent in languages that were, according to his field of study, either made up, too complex, dead, or just straight up evil. He told Xue Yang - in much more elegantly said sentences, of course, but Lan Jingyi’s doing his best here, dammit - that Xue Yang’s blood-soaked symbol on the floor was drawn ugly and wrong, half the words he chanted were non-existent, and the ones that do exist were so horribly pronounced the Yiling Patriarch would have laughed in his face. It would have honestly been like an awesome ending to an action film if their adventure had ended there: bad guy was dragged away screaming, bad guy’s target had a happy family reunion, and there was the added discovery - it was like the dangly thread of a new sequel! - that somehow magic actually exists.

“Cultivation. Not magic,” Hanguang-Jun had corrected patiently, some time after they finally bid goodbye to A-Qing and her family, “And, no, it does not exist.”

They had been driving to the nearest hotel to sleep after getting takeout from a nearby diner, too tired to go all the way home. Or, well, Hanguang-Jun must have been tired, because he was the one who insisted that they sleep in a hotel first. The three of them were definitely not, hyped up on all that’s happened, all that they learned, and so so curious about everything else he had to say. From the moment they got in the car all the way to their adjoining hotel rooms they’d asked Hanguang-Jun question after question after question; and, seriously, what other question were they going to ask first?

“But you said,” Lan Jingyi pointed out, nearly vibrating out of his seat. He badly wanted it to be real, because obviously the follow up to that is ‘Can you teach us?’ and the answer is definitely going to be A Yes. “You said there were some things that Xue Yang got right! How can it not exist?”

“It does not exist now. It did a long time ago. Xue Yang’s work was a bad imitation, but it was one that would have had severe consequences if he had access to resentful energy.”

“Like summoning the wrong demon?” Jin Ling snorted. “The Yiling Patriarch - ”

“Was not a demon,” Lan Wangji said firmly, which, after hearing Xue Yang baptize himself as the Yiling Patriarch’s number one fan, was something Lan Jingyi had as much difficulty accepting as the fact that the most amazing thing he’d ever heard of was apparently extinct. “He was a practitioner of demonic cultivation. Cultivators,” he’d continued, “could become powerful people, yes, but save the very few who reached immortality, they were people all the same.” Hanguang-Jun had given them a stern look from the rearview mirror. “The Yiling Patriarch was no exception.”

The unfortunate thing was that the word ‘immortality’ caught all their attention, and so the rest of the ride had been spent getting a crash course on traditional cultivation and then freaking out over the fact that there were people who basically became gods. It was only when they were finally in their own respective hotel rooms - one for Lan Wangji, another for all three of them - that they remembered about the Yiling Patriarch. Demonic cultivation, Xue Yang had said. It sounded terrifying! But also very cool! If cultivating the traditional path got you immortality, where would demonic cultivation take you? What’s the opposite of a god? They cursed themselves for forgetting, and swore to themselves that it was the very first thing they were going to ask in the morning car ride home.

Except the car ride never happened.

Lan Jingyi felt that he’d only gotten an hour or two of sleep before their door burst open and figures in body armor and stealth suits dragged them out of their rooms. Blindfolded and handcuffed and mouths taped shut, they were driven for who knows how many miles, stopped in god knows where, and then waited for who knows how long in the backseat, just huddled together and listening to one another’s terrified breathing. When they were finally dragged out of the car, their blindfolds were ripped off and the first thing they saw was Hanguang-Jun, staring at them wide-eyed and bleeding from a nasty-looking head wound. He couldn’t reach them because he himself was surrounded by his own group of guards, handcuffed and forced to kneel on the ground.

Hanguang-Jun had turned to someone and hissed, eyes cold with fury, “How dare you involve them!”

They were in what looked like the marketplace of a creepy-looking village, with half-destroyed houses surrounded by gnarled and twisted trees, heavy with the air of a place long abandoned by time. In the far background were the vague shapes of mountains, no city lights within sight. The only light was from the full moon above, and it illuminated the decrepit-looking stage in the center of the marketplace. On it was the man Hanguang-Jun addressed, clearly the orchestrator of all of this. He’s wearing the same unremarkable black stealth suit and shoulder holster, but somehow he screams of entitlement and money. Below him was one of the police who’d dragged Xue Yang away.

“The ritual needs sacrifices, Hanguang-Jun, don’t be stingy,” the man scoffed. He walked along the stage, hands clasped behind his back. “And you really kept saying no so - ”

“Wen Chao,” Hanguang-Jun bit out. “Cultivation is a thing of the past. Demonic cultivation is - ”

“Mine!” Wen Chao roared out, whirling around to face them, “Real and powerful and mine! My power! My birthright! And I’ll prove it!” He strode down the stairs, bringing something out of his pocket. In those few seconds, Lan Jingyi saw what looked like a rock, black and with craggy edges, unremarkable and small and dull, except -

“No,” Hanguang-Jun had said, and for the first time ever Lan Jingyi’s uncle sounded horrified.

The moonlight had given Wen Chao an eerie silhouette. Behind him, Hanguang-Jun struggled anew, but he stood no chance against the guards surrounding him… guards who suddenly looked a little more menacing than they did before. Behind his back, Lan Jingyi felt their own guards shift, caging them in, making subsonic growls and sibilant hisses and other sounds that should logically not come from humans, and it made his hair stand on end.

“Hey, kids,” Wen Chao had said conversationally, turning towards them for the first time. Black smoke started curling around the fist clenching the stone.“Do you believe in ghost stories?”

The three of them were gagged and tied, but Lan Jingyi didn’t think they would have been able to answer even if they weren’t. He didn’t think they were even able to breathe.

“You really should,” Wen Chao said, eyes gleaming, “You’re in one.” And then every single one of his guards started to change.

...

“Dramatic,” Senior Wei comments, as they finish their story.

“Yeah! Then he said once they get the Yiling Patriarch out of that cage it’s going to be better because he’ll be able to do more with demonic cultivation,” Lan Jingyi says. “That’s pretty much what he kept saying all the way up until that explosion.”

“And now he finally has someone who can break the lock,” Senior Wei murmurs. “Wen Chao’s been doing this for years. He’s awfully devoted.”

“Actually, I’m not sure he’s devoted?” Ouyang Zizhen offers tentatively, and when Senior Wei gives him an interested hum, wordlessly encouraging, he continues a little more confidently, “He said demonic cultivation originated from his family, right? And they were very protective of it. I think the thing is that the Yiling Patriarch was just a ward of the Wens,” At their startled looks, he scratches his cheek, looking a little sheepish, and says, “I read a little about it at the hotel, right before going to sleep. So! it’s like - he’s not even blood-related! And I read that demonic cultivation was even exclusively only for the main family. It was never supposed to leave the line of succession. And Wen Chao says he’s the heir.” He looks at them meaningfully. “He never said it outright, but I think he’s really bitter about that, because if we follow his logic demonic cultivation was supposed to be his.”

“He did say it was his birthright,” Jin Ling says, and then he makes a disbelieving noise. “Is he really going to try and, what, kill the Yiling Patriarch? Steal his powers?”

“He wants to control him, more likely,” A-Yuan says, “Like how he did with those guards.”

“Awfully ambitious then,” Senior Wei amends, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “Demonic cultivation can’t be stolen, not even after death. So: control it is, probably with that Yin Iron piece, probably by tricking him once he breaks the lock. Huh,” and then he snorts, “Stupid, but that makes more sense than Wen Chao being a devoted believer. He doesn’t strike me as the type to kneel.”

As Senior Wei shakes his head, gaze distant and deep in thought, unease coils in Lan Jingyi’s gut, envisioning the last time they’d seen his uncle: on the ground, surrounded and subdued by monsters. Wen Chao isn’t the type to go down on his knees, yes, but he sure as hell likes seeing others on theirs.

“This Hanguang-Jun,” Senior Wei says suddenly, “He’s really better than Xue Yang?”

“Way better,” Lan Jingyi says immediately, because he’s reminded once again that Hanguang-Jun’s skills were the reason why they were here in the first place - because Wen Chao’s stupid spies saw him defeat Xue Yang. And now, Lan Jingyi doesn’t doubt that Hanguang-Jun’s probably surrounded by even more monsters because he freaking sacrificed himself for their escape. He steps forward anxiously. “Listen, can you - ”

“Excellent!” Senior Wei says, looking almost gleeful. He claps his hands together, and without saying another word he brushes past them, going straight to the huge overflowing desk at the far end of the cave, and starts sifting through piles and piles of books.

Jin Ling attempts to follow, but Ouyang Zizhen quickly derails him by pulling at the back of his shirt, making him squawk. And as the two quickly devolve into whisper-bickering about whether or not they should go over and take a little peek, Lan Jingyi picks the fastest way to to be nosy and turns to the best source of information.

“A-Yuan, A-Yuan,” he says urgently, and A-Yuan, who’d chosen to stay close to the three of them, flies closer to him in response. “What’s Senior Wei doing? Is he going to help us?”

“Oh, he will,” A-Yuan reassures him, “Don’t worry. He’s just - changing plans, I believe.” The butterfly flies closer to his ear, as if to whisper a secret, and he adds, “Your arrival did change everything, you know.”

Lan Jingyi watches as Senior Wei starts writing furiously on a few pages ripped from the books, muttering feverishly to himself. The expression on his face is unsettlingly focused. “... It did?”

“Yes, because we’re not alone anymore,” A-Yuan says, and the warmth in his voice is what draws them in. The butterfly perches on Lan Jingyi’s hand, and as Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen stop their bickering to listen, A-Yuan continues, “The people Wen Chao found before Hanguang-Jun - some of them weren’t complete failures, honestly. One or two were actually teachable, like Xue Yang,” and when he receives three identical looks of doubt, A-Yuan huffs out a laugh and says, “No, really. Not as good as Hanguang-Jun, yes, but they could learn. The problem was that they were just like Wen Chao. Greedy. Cruel.” A pause. “How could we ask them for help?”

“What happened to them?” Lan Jingyi asks, “The ones before Hanguang-Jun?”

“Wen Chao had them killed,” A-Yuan says simply, “At least, the ones who managed to survive after they mess up the ritual.”

Lan Jingyi feels his stomach drop at that, the unease souring, not because he thinks his uncle won’t be able to do it - he would never in a million years think that Hanguang-Jun will fail - but Wen Chao? That rat bastard? He’d killed one of his poor assistants during the trek through Yiling for just being too slow. He was the reason Xue Yang got off scot-free even after committing a massacre. He does human sacrifices in this day and age! He’s basically attempting to be a demon lord!

Lan Jingyi will eat Senior Wei’s saber if Wen Chao lets his uncle go even after he gets the ritual right.

“But now,” A-Yuan is saying, and this time the butterfly flutters around them, and when he speaks again his voice is upbeat, “Now it’s different! I really didn’t think anyone else would be able to understand his handwriting - it’s very difficult to read, you see - let alone his code! But now someone can and he’s here and he’s good - ” He breaks off, hovering close to Lan Jingyi’s cheek as if he feels his turmoil, and the beat of his wings feels like a pat of comfort. “Well, the point is that I’m very glad we found you all. Don’t worry, Lan Jingyi, we’ll save your Hanguan - ”

“Woah, woah, wait,” Jin Ling says suddenly, “Wait, you’ve seen the Yiling Patriarch’s handwriting? You can read it??”

“Ah,” A-Yuan starts. The butterfly freezes for a split second. “Well, that is to say - ”

“We both have! Ugliest in all the land!” Senior Wei calls from the desk cheerfully, making them jump. He starts walking back to them even though he’s still writing, the papers balanced on one hand and a brush on the other. There’s a splash of ink on his brow. “Pretty good artist, though,” he continues, “Used blood for paint sometimes, but who’s complaining?”

“You’ve met him?” Ouyang Zizhen asks, wide-eyed.

Senior Wei reaches them just as he finishes, bundling up the papers into a roll, and A-Yuan quickly flies back to the man’s palm. “Oh, for sure,” Senior Wei says casually, “And I can pretty much tell you what Wen Chao’s wrong about: human sacrifices, necrophilia, cannibalism, kidnapping people to enslave them, kidnapping people to eat them, kidna - you know what,” he cuts off, “let’s just say Wen Chao’s wrong about a lot of things Yiling Patriarch-related, yeah?”

“That’s all the things,” Ouyang Zizhen points out, mild confusion coloring his fascination. “So what’s true?”

Senior Wei’s lips curl up into a small smile, there and gone in a blink, and then he gives a nonchalant shrug. “Well, he did kill a lot of people,” he says drily, “He was also a bit of a dick. Kind of rude. Really, really arrogant. Did I mention killing a lot of people? Because he did,” He pauses. “You know, looking back, I kind of understand why everyone hated him.”

“Father,” A-Yuan says, a hint of reproach in his tone. The flap of the butterfly’s wings even looks reproving.

“But definitely damn good at demonic cultivation,” Senior Wei concedes, laughing lightly and running a gentle finger on the butterfly’s head. “Sorry, A-Yuan. I’ll be nicer next time.”

“Hold up,” Jin Ling demands, “So how old are y - ”

“Later!” Lan Jingyi bursts out. He’d barely listened to the conversation following A-Yuan’s reply, caught up in imagining every horrifying thing that could have happened to his uncle right after they all got separated, and now the thought of staying still for any longer makes him want to hurl. “We can do this later!”

Lan Jingyi doesn’t know what his face looks, but whatever it is has Jin Ling’s retort dying on his lips and flushing, shame-faced. He reaches out and squeezes his shoulder in apology. He understands, he really does. Everything’s so weird right now, and he wants to ask so many things too, but they can do that later, when the situation’s not this terrible. Senior Wei and A-Yuan - they can be a hundred or a thousand or a million years old, but the only thing that matters now is that they save Hanguang-Jun.

Lan Jingyi turns to Senior Wei and asks, as urgently as he wanted to before, “So what’s the plan? Can you help him?”

“I can,” Senior Wei says, looking at him steadily, and his airy tone changes into something that has weight, reassuring and solid. He holds up the papers. “All we need to do is to get these to him, and I promise you that I’ll help him and I’ll deal with Wen Chao.” His eyes gleam. “It’s about time someone answers him anyway.”

“Oh, I’ll get it!” A-Yuan says. The butterfly flies up, fluttering its wings in a frenzy. “I can get it, father. I’m finished here. I can go to him disguise - ”

“Wait!” Ouyang Zizhen says, alarmed. “What about the Yiling Patriarch? What if he - ”

Senior Wei waves a hand. “Oh, don’t worry,” he says, “Wen Chao will meet him too,” and for all that it’s such a casual announcement, said in a tone that’s so bizarrely unconcerned, there’s something in his voice that makes the hair on Lan Jingyi’s neck stand on end.

It occurs to him then: Who sealed the Yiling Patriarch in this mountain? Who was brave enough to fight him? Who was powerful enough to beat him?

… Who was the guardian of the Burial Mounds, back when the Yiling Patriarch was still alive?

It’s at this point that Lan Jingyi almost - almost - feels bad for Wen Chao, who is apparently going to die and meet his maker, but Wen Chao’s a dick, and Lan Jingyi’s too busy being weirdly reassured and unwilling to examine it. He feels almost giddy with relief. Senior Wei’s on their side! Senior Wei’s going to kick ass! Senior Wei is -

“Okay, A-Yuan, keep the butterfly with us and tell me when you’re near,” Senior Wei is saying right now, actually. And as A-Yuan settles down on his crooked finger, Senior Wei looks up, and his gaze lands on the three of them.

It quickly turns thoughtful and assessing, and for the longest five seconds of Lan Jingyi’s life, Senior Wei doesn’t speak.

And then -

“We’ll stay here!” Lan Jingyi finally blurts out, unable to take the tension. He squeezes his eyes shut, clasps his hands together and shouts, “Just please save Hanguang-Jun!” And this time, unlike with the Xue Yang catastrophe, he is not bald-faced lying to the person of authority and expertise at all. They will stay in the metaphorical car, goddammit, if that’s what it takes for this plan to succeed and get them all out of here ali -

“But do you want to stay here?”

Lan Jingyi freezes, hardly daring to believe it.

He opens his eyes and whips his head up.

Senior Wei tilts his head, a small smile curling at the edges of his mouth, and then he asks:

“Wanna help?”

-

The Burial Mounds sits on an underground river and cave system that spans almost the whole of Yiling. At its very top is an enormous cavern decorated with dangling vines, massive boulders, and beautiful strange-looking flowers blooming within every crevice. Every night, without fail, moonlight from the gaping maw of the ceiling high above the ground would spill inside, illuminating the eerie, silent magnificence. Senior Wei said that the Yiling Patriarch’s prison is in this cavern, and all they have to do to know where it’s located is to follow where the brightest moonbeam strikes.

When they see the cavern for the first time, having squished themselves in one of the inconspicuous side passageways a little above the ground, Lan Jingyi notices three things immediately:

First, the place is far from eerily silent. In fact, it’s bustling and busy and absolutely crawling with Wen Chao’s men, human or otherwise: hauling boxes in and out of tents, poring over laboratory equipment scattered all over the grounds, inspecting a row of sleek-looking four-by-fours parked to the sides, and generally running and flitting around with purpose. There are guards - monstrous this time, no humans at all - marching along or stationed at some of the bigger passageways leading to the cavern. The atmosphere is one of anticipation. Something big is going to happen soon.

Second, the cavern is practically flooded with torchlight, big and bright and stiflingly hot. The flames are perched on top of thick wooden stands that are easily twenty feet tall, spread around the cavern in intervals. The shadows they make dance across the walls, reflecting the frenzy of activity on the ground. There’s absolutely no chance they’ll see any moonbeams making a spotlight.

And third, well, the Yiling Patriarch’s prison is stupidly obvious, moonlight or no. For one thing, it’s surrounded by a giant, beautifully intricate array, freshly painted on the ground. For another, it’s a massive frozen pool smack in the center and it takes up a good portion of the whole cavern, which is easily the size of half a football field. Its surface is dark and smooth and still, with offshoots branching to some of the passageways that are being guarded, swallowed by the darkness beyond, and it’s so unmistakably ominous that it can’t really be mistaken for anything else except a demon lord’s prison.

Their mistake, Lan Jingyi realizes, as the heavy metallic scent practically chokes him, is in assuming that it was made of water.

BOOM!

Something suddenly slams itself against the pool’s solid surface, the impact heavy enough to make Lan Jingyi’s teeth rattle, and the whole thing groans. There’s the sound of breaking, cracking glass. For a split second, bright light crackles like lightning below the pool’s exterior, spreading from the point of contact, and for the briefest moment it illuminates things that the shadows and brightness of the torchlights hide: the thousands and thousands of starburst cracks on the solid surface, the silhouette of something serpentine and scaly and huge diving back into the pool’s depths, and the deep red color of the liquid swirling thick and viscous underneath the frozen facade, the unmistakable color of -

“Blood,” Ouyang Zizhen says, shuddering and looking a little nauseated. “Ooh, that’s definitely blood. Eurgh - ”

In the center, floating on air and dwarfed by the sheer size of the pool, is a rock with strange symbols etched into its surface. There’s a small piece of it missing at the very top.

“Was that him?” Jin Ling hisses, leaning dangerously far over the edges of the passageway to peer closer, “Was that the Yiling Patriarch?” and he squawks when Ouyang Zizhen tugs him back by the collar of his shirt, saving him from tipping over.

“No,” A-Yuan says, but he doesn’t say anything else, and it’s long enough that they crane their heads up to look at him. He’d had to transform into something bigger and faster than a butterfly in order to get all three of them to the cavern in the shortest time possible, and he’d chosen a form literally made from the Burial Mounds itself: stone armor, stone body, stone shield, a towering ten-foot hulking giant made of rock with runes carved all over him. He’d planned on transforming back to his normal appearance only after reaching the cavern - their plan, after all, hinged on sneaking in first and then letting A-Yuan have his merry, destructive way - and a part of Lan Jingyi had honestly been looking forward to that, because he’s the only one out of all of them who has yet to see his face.

But now, as Lan Jingyi looks at him, seeing the way he’s completely frozen, he has a bad feeling that’s not going to happen anymore.

“A-Yuan?” Lan Jingyi asks tentatively, “What - ”

“It’s complete,” A-Yuan says, stunned. “It’s a complete array, I think, but - ”

“Wait, what?” Jin Ling says, “I thought it was supposed to take a lot of time?”

“Wen Chao’s array would have taken a lot of time,” A-Yuan says, and now shock is definitely bleeding into his voice, “This one is - this is a completely different one! Hanguang-Jun made his own!”

“Oh, that’s amazing!” Ouyang Zizhen says, and then right after that he gasps, excitement fading as the implication sets in, because -

“Isn’t Senior Wei’s whole plan based on the original array?” Lan Jingyi asks, alarmed, “That’s bad, right?”

“Good and bad, actually,” A-Yuan says, shaking his head, “Good and bad,” and with a wave of his hand another glittering butterfly appears, going back down the passageway they came from. “Alright, change of plans,” he says quickly, “Your Hanguang-Jun is - he’s brilliant,” and here he lets out a laugh, brief and awed, “so I know he’ll know exactly what father’s asking him to do. That’s the good part. The bad part is that a complete array means less time for you to talk to him, and this array needs my father’s modifications. It needs it even more than Wen Chao’s. We - ”

“Oh, fuck,” Ouyang Zizhen says suddenly, his fingers digging into Lan Jingyi’s arm, and the rarity of it - and the horror he has in his voice - has them looking.

Wen Chao is marching out of one of the larger tents, trailed by a mousy-looking human attendant, and not even five paces behind him, flanked by two fierce corpses, is none other than Hanguang-Jun.

“What the hell did they do to him?” Jin Ling asks, outraged.

Wen Chao looks the same - stealth suit, shoulder holster, face sneering and mean, talking brashly and loudly - but Hanguang-Jun… Hanguang-Jun’s injuries look worse than before. There’s fresh new blood trailing down the side of his dirty face, another dripping from his nose. His right cheek is obviously swollen. He’s carrying an extremely battered old book similar to the ones Senior Wei has, and his arms, while unchained, are black and blue with bruises. There’s still no hint of pain or fear on his face, it’s as calm as it’s ever been, but it’s obvious even from where they are that Hanguang-Jun is limping.

“Calm,” A-Yuan rumbles softly then, and Lan Jingyi realizes he’s gripping the stone walls so hard that his fingers drag painfully against it. As he forcefully relaxes his shaking hands, his grinding jaw, A-Yuan starts to speak.

“Wen Chao is telling everyone to start the ritual,” he says, low and fast and grim, “Like I said, our previous plan is now useless. You will have a few seconds at most, not minutes, and sneaking in is - unlikely.” A pause. “May I suggest a new one? It is riskier, but if it works...”

As they listen, they watch as the little group stops at the edge of the array, at the most complex-looking portion. Wen Chao whirls around to face Hanguang-Jun, jabbing him so hard on the chest that he stumbles back. Wen Cho spits something out, something clearly venomous, and then he gets into Hanguang-Jun’s face so aggressively that Lan Jingyi finds himself curling his hands back into fists. He wants to punch Wen Chao so bad he wants to scream.

“I can do it,” Lan Jingyi says immediately, once A-Yuan finishes speaking. “It should be me. Let me do it.” And while Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling are both as angry and worried as him, neither of them argue because they all know he really is the best choice. They’re all athletes, technically, but not only is Lan Jingyi the fastest, he also spent the years before being adopted by Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue running for his life. That’s the way it goes when you live in the streets. When it comes down to it, what’s the difference between outmaneuvering the bastards trying to kill them now and the bastards trying to kill him then? Nothing. When he runs, everyone is a blur.

And Hanguang-Jun is his uncle. His family. Can he do anything less?

“I won’t let anyone take you away,” A-Yuan is saying, his tone hard and resolute. His form has solidified back into rock. “I swear I’ll keep you all safe.”

“We know, A-Yuan,” Jin Ling quickly assures him, nudging him on the elbow. “Don’t worry about us! Just - focus on kicking their ass, yeah?”

A-Yuan huffs out a laugh, and then he raises a massive stone hand and brushes it against their heads, barely touching. “Are you ready?” he asks, and when they all nod their assent, jerky with determination and fear, the very same hand curls around their torsos, encasing them in solid warmth.

“When the fighting starts,” A-Yuan continues, “Tuck your head in and close your eyes if you can. It’s going to be chaotic.”

“What if they don’t attack you though?” Ouyang Zizhen asks anxiously.

“They will. They’ll feel that I’m different, and their first instinct will be to kill me,” A-Yuan flexes his free hand, and slowly the runes on his skin come alive, molten red like lava.

“And Wen Chao? What if he uses the Yin Iron?”

Down below, Wen Chao’s face twists in anger at Hanguang-Jun’s continued silence. He whistles a short, shrill note, and immediately the fierce corpses push Hanguang-Jun to his knees. Another whistle, and they grab Hanguang-Jun by the hair and force him to look up. Wen Chao bends down and grabs his face, forcing him to make eye contact.

A-Yuan hums. “If it comes to that,” he murmurs, “then I will start the fight.”

Hanguang-Jun finally replies, and whatever he says has Wen Chao kicking him, sending him to the ground. The batter old book drops, scattering loose papers all over.

“After all,” A-Yuan says, and his half-moon eyes, barely visibly through the helmet of solid rock, glow like the first sparks of a fire, “the Yin Iron cannot control me.”

-

A few minutes ago…

“Alright,” Senior Wei says, clapping his hands, “What do you guys know about the prison? Anything about what happened the first time Wen Chao ever tried to open it?”

“Not much about the prison itself?” Lan Jingyi wracks his brain, and starts ticking off from his fingers. “For the first time - uh, huge failure, huge explosion, huge number of people dead. It was a disaster, basically,” He frowns. “Not that it stopped Wen Chao, though. He’s been trying ever since.”

“His older brother died in that first explosion too,” Jin Ling adds. Then, he makes a face. “Although I got the vibe that he’s not really sad about that. He’s just mad about the clean-up because the media ate it up like crazy. I even remember my parents talking about it because Wen Xu’s kept airing on TV. I just never thought it would actually be connected to, you know,” and he waves his hand across everything, “this.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely not sad about his brother. He bragged a lot about being the new heir and getting a piece of the Yin Iron,” Ouyang Zizhen says, nodding, before he turns to Senior Wei and asks, “What was the Yin Iron originally for, anyway? The piece he has is so small, but he can use it to control his guards and stuff. Is it part of the prison?”

Senior Wei clears his throat. “Well, yes and no. The Yin Iron is actually the lock of the Yiling Patriarch’s prison.” He watches them absorb this, and then continues, “Yeah, and the first thing you have to know is that the prison has more than just the Yiling Patriarch.” He leans in. “It also has his army.”

“His what,” Lan Jingyi asks.

“Army,” Senior Wei repeats, looking a little amused at the horror on their faces. “As in his literal army from hell. I’m talking demons, monsters, resentful spirits, every evil little thing you can think of. You remember Wen Chao’s men?” At their wide-eyed nods, he continues, “Multiply that by thousands and then make them a hundred times more terrifying.”

“Thousands?” Jin Ling says, pale.

Senior Wei nods. “The first time they tried, they weren’t able to destroy the lock, but they did damage it. Quite badly too, and so some of the prison’s inmates escaped. They were the reason a lot of Wen Chao’s men died. ” He shakes his head, pity on his face. “The explosion was the survivors’ attempt to buy themselves time to escape.”

A-Yuan flies away from Senior Wei’s side to Ouyang Zizhen, who’s looking a little green around the edges. He receives a grateful stroke on his wings.

“The second thing you have to know,” Senior Wei says, crossing his arms, “Is that I wasn’t joking before. I am the guardian of this mountain. The Burial Mounds is my territory, and in any other circumstance I can destroy Wen Chao with a twitch of my pinky finger. But I can’t,” he tilts his head, looking at them all intently, “Can you guess why?”

…

“You said ‘some,” Lan Jingyi says slowly, his mind whirring furiously, “So that means -” and as understanding dawns he looks up at Senior Wei. “You’re inside the prison, aren’t you?” he asks sharply, “You’re keeping the rest from escaping!” And then: “Oh my god, are you fighting the Yiling - ”

“- Patriarch’s army, yes! Good job!” Senior Wei barrels over him hastily, and there’s a sound of surprise from Ouyang Zizhen when A-Yuan drops on his shoulder with an undignified splat, his wings curling in. Before Ouyang Zizhen can even poke at the butterfly though, Senior Wei holds up his hands, gaining back their attention.

“Look closer,” he says, and they do. They all lean in. Senior Wei lets out a musical whistle, wiggles his fingers, and abruptly both of his arms flicker, phasing in and out of their sight like a ghost.

“Did that just - ” Ouyang Zizhen falls silent when it happens again, and again, and again. Senior Wei brings down his hands, stops making those sounds, and the flickering stops. But now that they’ve seen it happen it’s hard to forget. Looking at him now, it’s easy to see that Senior Wei’s skin is really more than just ghostly pale.

He’s practically translucent.

“It’s pretty confusing, I know,” Senior Wei continues, “but the gist is that I’m not completely here. A large part of me is inside that prison, and I’m doing my damndest to prevent Wen Chao’s stupidity from destroying the world. This part - this cave is where my power is relatively stable,” he sweeps a hand around to encompass the room, “So I can’t leave. By staying here, I can fight the army and watch out for any outside disturbances.” Senior Wei pauses, a rueful smile crossing his face then, and he says, “Not that I can personally do much if there is one, which is why I am very lucky A-Yuan is with me.” He looks at the butterfly on Ouyang Zizhen’s shoulder, a conflicted expression on his face. “We’re both tied here, but he has a bit more freedom than I do, which is good because he deserves - ”

“I would make the same choice,” is A-Yuan’s immediate reply, steadfast and sure, and before Lan Jingyi can dissect these strange words, before he can give in to the urge to dig deeper on the way Senior Wei looks equal parts melancholy and sad and proud, A-Yuan adds, his voice becoming lighter, “And besides, by the end of the day we will all be free, right?” and this time when the butterfly flies around all four of them, there’s an air of unmistakable hope. “Right? Can’t you feel it? I have a good feeling about this!”

Senior Wei huffs, smiling, and his tone relaxes into something less somber when he points out, “It’s already night, A-Yuan.”

“By the end of the night, then - ”

“Technically, it’s just extremely early in the morning - ”

“Father, you know what I mean,” A-Yuan says, and if a butterfly can look put out Lan Jingyi is pretty sure this is it. “Please stop teasing!”

Senior Wei’s smile gets bigger. “I’m just saying - ”

“Papa!” A-Yuan flies around, trailing golden dust in the air. It makes the cave look a little brighter, especially when A-Yuan finally gives in and laughs.

A-Yuan’s optimism is contagious, and before long Jin Ling’s pumping his fist and yelling, “Alright, let’s do this!” and Ouyang Zizhen’s nodding, saying excitedly, “Okay, okay! What’s the plan?”

Lan Jingyi finds himself bouncing on his feet. He imagines a certain bastard man’s face getting eaten by a demon lord, and the picture is so sweet that the determination to make it freaking happen courses through his veins, heady and strong. “Yeah, I’m down! Let’s go kick Wen Chao’s ass!” he shouts. Cracking his knuckles, he grins -

- and completely fails to dodge when a split second later Senior Wei’s poking him hard on the forehead

“HEY!”

“Teenagers,” Senior Wei says, ignoring Lan Jingyi’s indignant squawk. Any gloom on his face is gone now, replaced by exasperated amusement. “Who says you’re gonna fight? Who says you’re kicking ass? Do you want your Hanguang-Jun to kill me? None of you will be fighting! The three of you will help me so I can kick Wen Chao’s ass!”

Lan Jingyi blinks, deflating slightly. “Then what - ”

“Wen Chao wants Hanguang-Jun to destroy the lock, right?” Senior Wei holds up the papers he wrote, “Well, these will bastardize Wen Chao’s array so it will fix the lock instead. Forever. So: seal the prison, seal the army, and stop the apocalypse, which will have the bonus of freeing me to do the more important things. Like kicking Wen Chao’s ass.” He stops, raising his eyebrows. “Do you understand?”

Jin Ling takes the papers and unrolls them. “So we give this to Hanguang-Jun and then he’ll know what to do? Just like that?” he asks, puzzled, which is fair because, as Lan Jingyi goes closer to look, it’s clear that the contents of the paper are really, really incomprehensible. The two of them rotate it this way and that, squinting ferociously at what can be generously called a handwriting.

“Hanguang-Jun can read this??” Lan Jingyi says, baffled. Never mind the unknown language, it’s hard to even know where to start.

“He can, excuse you!” Senior Wei huffs, lightly swatting at a giggling A-Yuan. “And don’t worry! A-Yuan, my unfilial son, will help you get to him.” He pauses then, joking tone subsiding, and makes a face. “I mean, I’m not going to lie. It did cross my mind to just let him do this alone. He’s more than capable of getting in and out, but that’s only the easy part, isn’t it? In disguise or not, the minute he’s in, Hanguang-Jun has to listen to him.” He peers at them all. “And at the end of the day, who do you think will Hanguang-Jun trust immediately: One of his captors, a stranger, or his own kids?”

Lan Jingyi frowns. The Hanguang-Jun he’s known since forever is kind and smart and quiet and even a little funny, but the man is - as they have newly discovered in this hell trip - shrewd and cautious and, when he needs to be, actually pretty terrifying. Lan Jingyi imagines a scenario where one of the guards - one of those who kidnapped them, tied them up, beat them, and threatened them - just sidles up to Hanguang-Jun and tries to get him to trust them in the space of a few minutes, and the idea is so absurd that he has to shake his head, banishing it to the ether.

“Ah, point,” Ouyang says after a beat, and beside him Jin Ling cringes at the very same thought.

… But then, will they even have a few minutes?

“Don’t worry about getting caught,” Senior Wei says. He’s looking at him closely, and Lan Jingyi realizes he’s probably mistaking his silence for fear. “There’s no one I trust more than A-Yuan,” and the butterfly in question flies to Lan Jingyi and lands softly on his shoulder, a reassuring weight.

“Ah, no, it’s not that,” Lan Jingyi says quickly, “It’s just - what if there’s no time? Like the array’s already done?”

“Hm, point,” Senior Wei frowns thoughtfully, “But I doubt it. The disadvantage of the array Wen Chao wants is not that it’s time-bound, but that it’s very complicated. It’s not something you should finish in one go, and unless Wen Chao wants it all to blow up again he has to give Hanguang-Jun time.”

“If I were Hanguang-Jun, I’d take as long as I could,” Jin Ling mutters, glowering. “It’s not like Wen Chao understands it anyway,” and Senior Wei snorts in amusement.

“Wen Chao always used the same heavily guarded tent for his translators,” A-Yuan offers, “It should be the same here, and we’ll surely find Hanguang-Jun there when he’s not making the array. I’ll bring you to him, disable the guards, and then I’ll cause a distraction.”

“Distraction?” Ouyang Zizhen asks.

“It’s also nothing you have to worry about,” A-Yuan says, a smile in his voice. “I’ll make sure it’s as far away from his tent as possible.”

“Ah, yes,” Senior Wei says cheerfully, “A-Yuan’s distractions are usually creatively destructive. They’ll be busy, believe me. You’ll have more than enough time to go in, talk to Hanguang-jun, and get out.”

-

Chapter Text

A-Yuan announces their presence with a deafening roar and a soaring jump that lands them in the center of the camp with a loud boom.

Their arrival kicks up a storm of dust and debris and chaos, and commotion rises through Wen Chao’s ranks. Before long they hear the sounds of multiple footsteps coming closer and closer, mixed with growls and hisses and subsonic snarls.

A-Yuan steels himself, his stone fist holding all three of them close to his chest. His grip is just tight enough for them to be pressed together, practically back to back to back, and Lan Jingyi can feel his friends shaking as the sounds get louder.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god - ” Ouyang Zizhen is chanting, low and fast at his left.

Meanwhile, Jin Ling is digging his elbow into Lan Jingyi’s right side hard, wide-eyed and manic. “Can you guys see him?!” he hisses, “Can you see Hanguang-Jun??”

“I can’t - ah, shit,” Lan Jinyi swears, blinking the dust painfully stinging his eyes. Sweat drips down his temple, the back of his neck, his whole freaking body. He has never been more aware of his own heartbeat, pressed up against a bundle of papers that will save their lives.

“My twelve o’clock!” Ouyang Zizhen gasps suddenly. “Twelve o’clock! Do you see him??”

Lan Jingyi cranes his neck, leaning out, and spots Hanguang-Jun just beyond the crowd. Just like everyone else, his eyes are on A-Yuan’s massive size. The pages he’d been picking up are forgotten in his hands, and he’s frozen halfway to standing. The fierce corpses he had with him are going towards them now, joining the fray, leaving him alone.

Perfect.

“Jingyi, are you ready?” Jin Ling asks. At his nod, Ouyang Zizhen moves to tap a finger on A-Yuan’s fist -

“Stop,” a familiar, hateful voice calls out, and fuck. The crowd ceases its menacing advance, parts like the Red Sea, and suddenly Wen Chao is there, his smarmy face in Lan Jingyi’s direct line of vision.

“Ohoho!” Wen Chao exclaims, lazily waving away clouds of dust. “And here I thought you twerps were dead!” He surveys them all with interest, taking in their dirty appearance, the way they’re struggling in A-Yuan’s grip, before he sneers and addresses A-Yuan imperiously, “Where are the others?”

A-Yuan growls and draws himself up to his full height, looming above Wen Chao, and answers, “Dead.”

The noise from the crowd amps up, restlessness rippling through like a wave, but none of them attack. Lan Jingyi internally swears. Wen Chao’s order is clearly keeping them in line, which is really, really inconvenient because that’s not what they want -

“Huh,” Wen Chao remarks. He’s throwing the Yin Iron piece up and down on one hand like a tennis ball, and he sounds completely unperturbed by a good chunk of his guards dying. Instead, he cocks his head, taking in A-Yuan’s form, looking morbidly fascinated, and asks, “Did you eat them?”

At those words, it’s like the temperature of the whole cavern jumps a few degrees hotter, and this time a lot of the monsters still. For a beat, absolutely no one speaks. The silence is thick, the blood lust is thicker, palpable and getting heavier and heavier as everyone waits for A-Yuan’s answer.

The humans are steadily, silently inching away.

A-Yuan shifts in place, rolling his shoulders, rising and bracing ever so slightly on the balls of his feet.

As discreetly as he can, Ouyang Zizhen taps a shaking finger on A-Yuan’s stone skin, sketches a tiny arrow just to make sure.

And then -

“Yes,” A-Yuan rumbles, the gravel in his voice sounding like a landslide, and smiles, baring long jagged teeth and a throat glowing red with fire. Somewhere in the crowd there’s an enraged roar, and then just like that A-yuan is suddenly being swarmed by a horde of screaming, angry monsters.

All hell quickly breaks loose as A-Yuan well and truly starts fighting, and the impressed look quickly disappears from Wen Chao’s face as he finds himself smack in the middle of the chaos. Wen Chao ducks under the screeching dive of a wailing woman in tattered bloodied robes, twists away as two horned monstrosities fuse together and charge in a tangle of hairy limbs, and stumbles wildly to avoid a dagger to the abdomen, thrown by a humanoid lizard-like creature twice his size. There’s panic now in his eyes, mixed with surprise and anger, and he screams at them all.

His voice is completely drowned in the noise.

To Lan Jingyi’s eyes, the world dissolves into a dizzying blur of colors and movement and sound. A-Yuan ferociously fights them all basically one-handed, particularly vicious when they try to take the three teenagers clutched to his chest. From the outside, it looks like A-Yuan’s movements are erratic, that he’s doing nothing except to cause as much damage to enemies and property alike, but it’s not. As the fight moves swiftly across the cavern, A-Yuan deceptively leads them closer and closer to where they need to be. Until -

“You imbeciles!!” Wen Chao is shouting, “Careful with the - ack! Fuck, that is disgusting - ”

But Lan Jingyi’s not listening anymore. A-Yuan rolls backwards to avoid the claws of an unholy-looking skeletal wolf, grabs a spiked club from the prone form of a one-eyed giant, twists to slam it against a horde of fanged spiders, and suddenly there’s a beautiful little gap and Hanguang-Jun’s right there, less than fifty blessed feet away.

For a split second, their shocked eyes meet.

And Lan Jingyi slams his fist down.

Immediately, A-Yuan’s hold loosens a fraction, and Lan Jingyi moves: he drops down to the floor, lands hard on a crouch, and then sprints as fast as he can. He thinks he hears Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen shouting, he thinks he hears Wen Chao yelling, but he ignores all that and just runs and runs and runs until he’s barreling straight to his uncle’s embrace.

The impact has them both staggering. Hanguang-Jun had dropped all the papers again to catch him, and now Lan Jingyi uses the additional confusion, the cover of papers flying haphazardly to the floor, to make the smallest space between them and shove the papers at Hanguang-Jun’s chest.

“Jingyi!” Hanguang-Jun scrabbles to cover his hand with his own, uses the other to tug him closer. “Jingyi, you - ” but Lan Jingyi hugs him again and cuts him off.

“Read it!” he whispers quickly, pushing the papers insistently, “Read it! We’re okay, I swear, but you have to - urk!”

He’s ripped backwards so fast that his neck snaps down hard, his chin hitting his chest painfully. Lan Jingyi only has a split second to see Hanguang-Jun’s horrified face - to panic because that was not enough time, A-Yuan!! - before he realizes that it’s a fucking tentacle that’s got him, and then right after that it’s very hard to think anymore because he’s twisted around to face a hundred eyes on a giant, grotesque-looking humanoid face and his brain just whites out. It opens its mouth, revealing rows and rows of sharp little teeth, a twisting lump of tongues smelling of rotten flesh, and Lan Jingyi opens his mouth to scream -

A spiked club smashes against the side of its face, and just like that Lan Jingyi’s would-be eater is headless. The tentacle loosens, the corpse crumples to the ground, and a massive stone hand snatches Lan Jingyi mid-fall and presses him back with his friends.

As Lan Jingyi practically bangs his head against Ouyang Zizhen’s from the whiplash, A-Yuan goes with the flow of his swing, whirling around with a roar, and faces the incoming horde of monsters that’s quickly closing the distance.

Lan Jingyi closes his eyes, feels Ouyang Zizhen full-body flinch -

“ENOUGH!” Wen Chao bellows, red-faced.

A humming sound rips through the air, piercing and shrill, and suddenly the thundering footsteps stop and there are howls of pain. The cacophony of their cries is frightening, sends goosebumps down Lan Jingyi’s spine, and he lifts his head and looks. One by one the monsters are dropping to their knees, their claws, their backs, like something is ruthlessly crushing them against the ground. Some are bleeding out from their eyes, some are seizing.

Lan Jingyi’s eyes cut to Wen Chao’s figure and sees him holding out the Yin Iron piece, the crevices of which are now molten red and emitting curls of black smoke. The glow illuminates the anger in Wen Chao’s face, the clench of his jaw, the exact moment his gaze lands on A-Yuan’s upright form, and the way his eyes narrow -

“Get down, A-Yuan! Get down!” Ouyang Zizhen whispers frantically.

Ah, fuck. Wen Chao’s suspicious, Lan Jingyi realizes too late. A-Yuan’s hold tightens around them, his whole body tensing. For one horrible moment, Lan Jingyi panics because maybe he didn’t hear, maybe he’s ignoring it -

- and then A-Yuan’s hold on them loosens, and the hand he’s wrapped around the spike club starts to shake. He makes a show of slowly, slowly being pressed to his knees, until at the last he ends up bowed with his head touching the floor, curling around them protectively.

And as abruptly as it had started the humming disappears.

The new sound of Wen Chao stomping around, barking out orders, soon cuts through the air.

Safely hidden by A-Yuan’s bulk, Ouyang Zizhen finally pats him on his stone hand and shakily says “Good job, A-Yuan!” right before he whips around to stare at Lan Jingyi, looking two seconds away from a panic attack, and scream-whispers, “Lan Jingyi, did you - are you - holy shit?”

“Holy shit??” he echoes hysterically.

“Are you okay?” Jin Ling demands from Ouyang Zizhen’s other side, pale and terrified, “Lan Jingyi, are you okay? Did it work? What the fuck??”

“I am! I don’t know! I - ”

“You!” Wen Chao snaps, sounding much closer than before, “Get up!”

They all shut up as A-Yuan uncurls, revealing Wen Chao standing in front of them. All suspicion is now gone from his face, replaced once again with anger. He throws a hand out to indicate the array, some parts of which are now smeared with streaks of blood and guts. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done??!!” he snarls, “I should kill you for this!” Black smoke curls around the Yin Iron piece once again, “I should make you kill yourself!” and, to Lan Jingyi’s horror, he holds the stone out -

“Wen Chao.”

“What,” Wen Chao hisses, whipping his head to look beyond them, looking nothing more like he wants to go over and kill whoever called his name. The Yin Iron piece is vibrating now, a subsonic hum emanating from it. It bodes absolutely nothing good.

A-Yuan moves as if to get out of Wen Chao’s intended path, turns just so, and with that they can see the one who spoke.

“Do not lose your temper,” Hanguang-Jun says, ignoring his murderous stare. He’s gingerly standing up until he’s eye to eye with Wen Chao, clutching all the papers in white-knuckled fists. The ones Lan Jingyi gave him are indistinguishable from the rest. Was Hanguang-Jun able to read it? Did he hear Jingyi? Did he understand? His uncle’s face is back to being completely unreadable, boring holes into Wen Chao’s face, and Lan Jingyi can’t tell.

At those words, Wen Chao’s eyes flash. “You can’t fucking tell me what to do!”

“It bleeds,” Hanguang-Jun says, nodding to A-Yuan, and sure enough there are multiple cuts on A-Yuan’s body, sluggishly pouring out a vibrant red orange liquid the same color as fire. “If it kills itself, the blood will ruin the array even more.”

Wen Chao sneers. “That’s what you’re here for.”

“I can fix the array,” Hanguang-Jun says flatly, “I cannot control the moon.”

At those words, they all look up at the open ceiling, where a full moon can be seen sitting against the backdrop of a starless night sky. Lan Jingyi vaguely remembers seeing it too when it was Xue Yang who was hellbent on doing a ritual. That man screamed at it while brandishing a bloodied knife, oblivious to the teenage girl who would end up stabbing him ten seconds later. Why are they so fixated on the phase of the moon? Is it really that important?

… Didn’t Senior Wei say it wasn’t time-bound?

Under Hanguang-Jun’s challenging stare, Wen Chao flushes, and his grip on the Yin Iron piece goes tight. There’s a moment where Lan Jingyi genuinely thinks he’s still going to do it, because he’s looking a heartbeat away from completely losing his shit, but actually Wen Chao backs off. “You!” he snarls instead, glowering at A-Yuan, “Get out of my sight!” And then he doesn’t even look at the three of them in A-Yuan’s hand before he’s pointing to his fierce corpses and goes, “You and you! Get these brats from - ”

But someone doesn’t let him finish.

“Nooo!” A-Yuan explodes, a moaning, deafening sound, pressing the three of them harder against himself. He grabs the spiked club on the floor and holds it out threateningly. “Mine!”

And Wen Chao’s tenuous hold on his temper snaps, his eyes bugging out. “Mine?!” he echoes shrilly.

Instead of pretending to cower, A-Yuan draws himself up to his full, terrifying height and roars, “MIIIINEEE!!!” loud enough and long enough that licks of flame shoot out of his mouth. The three of them cry out in surprise as the fire just barely misses them.

Wen Chao’s face twists into something ugly, and the humming sound from the Yin Iron piece swerves into painfully dissonant shrieking. Some of the weaker monsters jolt like they’re being electrocuted -

“Wen Chao,” Hanguang-Jun calls out, forcefully enough to be heard. There had been the smallest crease in his brows when he was looking at A-Yuan, but now, as Wen Chao finally deigns to look at him, as the shrieking sound returns to a low humming, Hanguang-Jun smoothly shifts back to his inscrutable expression and says, not even waiting for him to speak, “It is attached. Do not provoke it.”

Wen Chao sneers, “So?”

“If you provoke it, it can kill them,” Hanguang-Jun says evenly, “And if they die, you will get nothing from me.”

Wen Chao’s eyebrows shoot straight up at that, the ill combination of incredulity and rage temporarily rendering him speechless. “Nothing?” He finally says, “Nothing?? Lan Wangji, I told you before that your brother is still under my surveillance. One call from me and he will be dead. Or are really you stupid enough to forget this?!”

Hanguang-Jun does not show any of the swooping panic Lan Jingyi feels at those words. He doesn’t even acknowledge them. “If they die,” he repeats instead, enunciating every word. His face is as cold as winter, “you will get nothing from me.”

Wen Chao’s face darkens, and the Yin Iron piece itself glows a deeper, darker red. He strides towards Hanguang-Jun, his free hand jerking up to grasp the gun on his shoulder holster -

-and then the sound of a ringing phone splits through the air.

Lan Jingyi freezes halfway from trying to leap out of A-Yuan’s grip and watches as Wen Chao flinches into a stop. The Yin Iron piece stops humming, stops glowing, and immediately it disappears back into his pocket. Wen Chao visibly reigns himself in, but he doesn’t hurry to answer the call. “You have fifteen minutes to fix the array, Lan Wangji,” he spits out. His hand spasm towards his pocket. “Every minute after that is a bullet to your legs. Do you understand?”

Instead of answering, Hanguang-Jun tilts his head to look at A-Yuan, cool and unblinking, and for a few seconds he doesn’t speak. The phone’s shrill, ominous ringing continues on.

A-Yuan suddenly rumbles, deep and low, and he doesn’t know how but Lan Jingyi swears it sounds like an answer.

“Lan Wangji,” Wen Chao repeats through gritted teeth, and this time he whips out the gun and points it at his forehead. “Do you understand?”

…

“Understood,” Hanguang-Jun says finally.

And then he briefly, deliberately meets Lan Jingyi’s eyes.

With that, Wen Chao stomps away to answer the call, sequestering himself back into his tent, and activity resumes quickly in his wake. Fallen lab instruments are put back up, anything unsalvageable is swept away, and those on guard duty quickly resume their positions. There’s an agitated tinge to their movements now, as if this mysterious caller has affected them too. Two human soldiers run to Hanguang-Jun, and before he can even do anything else they manhandle him towards the parts of the array that need fixing.

“Jingyi?” Jin Ling asks, tight and worried. “You dad - Zewu-Jun - ”

“Will be fine,” Lan Jingyi chokes out, and the relief he feels is so overwhelming he has no choice but to bury his head on Ouyang Zizhen’s shoulder or else the hysterical laughter is going to ruin everything. Ouyang Zizhen tries to wriggle a hand out to wrap it around him, probably thinking he’s going to cry, until Lan Jingyi straightens up, shaking his head, and blurts out, “Guys. Guys. Hanguang-Jun understands. He understands.” The heavy emphasis has Ouyang Zizhen freezing, and then a split second later it’s his head who’s landing on Lan Jingyi’s shoulder with a dull thunk.

Jin Ling is much less subtle. He cranes his neck back to look at Lan Jingyi, all the way back until he’s practically resting his head against A-Yuan’s chest, and asks, hardly daring to believe it, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jin Ling’s answering grin is unsettlingly similar to his own, hopeful and a little vindictive.

“Nice.”

-

Before long, the array is fixed, and someone is sent to call Wen Chao. Now, Hanguang-Jun stands on the edges of the pool, facing towards its center. He has the book cradled carefully in one arm, tucked against his torso so the loose pages don’t fall through. The other hand has the Yin Iron piece, which Wen Chao had grudgingly given up after finishing that strange call.

A-Yuan goes to stand only a few feet away from the outer rings of the array, almost directly behind Hanguang-Jun. He drops the three of them down to the ground, looming over them like a silent and threatening shadow, and everyone gives them a wide berth. Even during the preparation, no one had actually dared to get close - although it was obvious from the constant bloodlust that more than one member of Wen Chao’s monsters were willing to try. Whether it had been because of A-Yuan himself, the giant spiked club he’s holding, or Wen Chao’s imposed deadline, Lan Jingyi doesn’t care. He just hopes that it holds out until they get through this.

“We’re waiting, Lan Wangji,” Wen Chao yells impatiently. After giving the Yin Iron piece, he’d situated himself a good distance away from Hanguang-Jun, protected by a circle of fierce corpses. At his words, a hush of anticipation fills the air. Humans, most of whom are manning the instruments, tuck themselves even more behind their machines. The ones who are decidedly not-human are practically restless, flying in circles, huffing out smoke, making inhuman clicks and growls and hisses. Some even dare to get closer to the array.

And then, Hanguang-Jun starts to read.

Lan Jingyi listens, and even while understanding absolutely nothing the hair on the back of his neck stands up just the same. The language, whatever it is, sounds equal parts harsh and melodic; but it was definitely nothing like what they heard from Xue Yang, who’d practically screamed his words at the sky. Instead, it sounds almost like a song, like the lullabies his fathers used to hum during his childhood, except this one felt haunting and strange and ancient. As Hanguang-Jun continues, his voice seems to gradually amplify in volume, echoing all across the enormous cavern, until it’s like a thousand and one versions of him are speaking all at once.

The Yin Iron piece in Hanguang-Jun’s hand slowly, slowly rises from his hand, and with a faint burst of light it shoots towards the center of the pool, towards the floating rock, and seamlessly, silently slides into place.

Just like that, the Yin Iron is complete.

Hanguang-Jun stops speaking, and he closes the book with an audible snap.

At first, nothing happens. The blood pool remains silent. The wind swirls almost lazily through the air. The flames of the torchlight crackle. No one moves or speaks.

Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen’s hands, clammy where they tightly hold Lan Jingyi’s own, shake.

Wen Chao steps away from his guards, impatient with greed, and bursts out, “What - ”

The Yin Iron drops, and at the same time a bolt of lightning strikes the pool with a deafening boom.

“UNCLE!” Lan Jingyi screams, but his voice is drowned as the solid surface explodes.

All at once, thousands of jagged blood-red icicles shoot out like shrapnel, the ground heaves like something is trying to break through the earth, and the broken surface of the pool lightens up like a supernova, blinding and painful. An errant piece from the pool shoots towards him, deadly sharp and fast. Lan Jingyi flinches -

- and the icicle splinters against something solid because A-Yuan’s suddenly there, sweeping them all up in one hand. He tucks them close, stabs the club against the soil, and then braces himself onto the ground, an immovable and impenetrable shelter. Around them, the winds turn howling and fierce and violent. It swirls up and up, stinging their eyes painfully, and then, from beyond A-Yuan’s protection, they hear the piercing sound of screams.

“Look! Look!” Jin Ling cries, grabbing a fistful of their shirts.

Lan Jingyi, gagging at the smell of sulfur and blood and blinking away tears, forces his eyes open.

Hanguang-Jun’s still where he was before, barely visible, but he is completely, impossibly unharmed. Surrounding him are criss-crossing threads of golden yellow light, forming a dome with a net-like pattern. Lan Jingyi shouts when one of Wen Chao’s human underlings, carried by the vicious wind, slams against the dome with a loud thud. Instead of cracking, the dome merely vibrates, angry and low, and the terrified human just slides against the surface, clawing uselessly, until the wind sweeps them back up in its embrace, going around and around and around, helpless like a rag doll, until they’re sucked in and swallowed by -

“Oh, my god,” Lan Jingyi whispers.

A tornado. The winds are coalescing into an enormous tornado in the middle of the pool. Slowly, it siphons up the blood, the viscous liquid twisting like a ribbon, growing bigger and bigger and bigger, until a rotating thunderstorm - a supercell made of wind and blood and lightning and thunder - forms in the middle of the cavern. Faster and faster it goes, and the limbs and bodies of the poor unfortunate souls it had swallowed rises and falls like the dying victims in a violent ocean.

Worse, when thunder booms and lighting crackles, illuminating what’s inside the supercell for a split second, Lan Jingyi sees outlines of gigantic creatures - sharp claws and rough hides and large teeth, twisting and thrashing and roaring - and the rage they emit is so heavy and visceral it feels like he’s choking on it.

And then all of a sudden the entire thing pulses.

A-Yuan abruptly leaps back, carrying them with him, and lands a good distance away from the supercell. He stabs the ground in front of them again, digging the club deep into the unforgiving ground, but now he doesn’t let go. He grasps the hilt with both hands, curving his body above them, cutting off practically their entire view, and then -

“A-Yu -” Ouyang Zizhen starts to say.

Boom!

The supercell collapses with a deafening noise, and bright light explodes outward, searing and hot.

For a few solid seconds after, all Lan Jingyi knows is the ringing in his ears, the stars behind his eyelids, and the sharp, pungent smell of sulfur. He’s on his knees, he realizes. His forehead is pressed to the damp earth, and his head is aching. Slowly, the smell subsides to something tolerable, and the ringing gives way to the sounds of familiar voices swearing and coughing, to the scrabble of feet and hands.

He groans and shakily pushes himself up.

“A-A-Yuan?” And that’s Ouyang Zizhen, uncertain and hoarse.

“Shit,” and that’s Jin Ling, his voice going in and out of focus, “I can’t see - oh, shit. Jingyi - ”

A hand grasps his arm.

Lan Jingyi forces his eyes open, and the world gradually resolves into sharper detail: the bruised knuckles of his own dirty hands, the cracks and crevices on the hard ground, and the destroyed remnants of the spiked club. All the torches have been extinguished, and the visibility is poor. Jin Ling’s next to him, pale-faced and thrown in shadow, and with his help he stands up and turns around, stumbling slightly. A few steps away, Ouyang Zizhen’s frantically turning around and around in circles, looking a little dazed.

“Where’s A-Yuan?” Lan Jingyi croaks out.

Jin Ling shakes his head, lips pressed thin. Ouyang Zizhen goes to them, and the panic in his eyes makes dread swoop low in his stomach.

Lan Jingyi forces his stupid heartbeat to calm down and his head to stop pounding and does his goddamn best to take stock of their surroundings. They’re nearly to the edges of the cavern, the wall sloping up only a couple of meters behind, but in front of them it’s so hard to see anything. The only light sources they have now are the bioluminescent flora scattered around the cavern and the moon, visible through the open ceiling, but even then their light is practically swallowed by a strange thick fog that’s spread all around. The dust and debris too are slow to settle down, obscuring everything even more.

Lan Jingyi closes his eyes, strains his ears. He hears the faint sounds of bodies moving, voices groaning, and weapons being drawn, all the unmistakable signs of others - human and non-human alike - basically recovering, but that’s - that’s it. He remembers the creatures, the bloodlust, and he shivers. There’s none of that now. What the hell happened? Did it work?

A whistling melody starts, eerie and twisting up and down octaves, until as abruptly as it started it disappears.

Lan Jingyi shivers. A-Yuan made good on his promise. He didn’t let anyone come for them. He protected them from a freaking supercell, but what about A-Yuan himself? Where is he?

“Do you think he got - ” Jin Ling starts to say, “You know - ” and he jumps in surprise when somewhere beyond the fog an angry wail slices through the air, right before it’s cut by the vicious sound of metal squelching against flesh.

“No,” Lan Jingyi denies immediately, and he buries that thought down, “No way did that happen.” Then, the image of the golden dome around his uncle comes to him, unbidden, and hope strikes him hard. “That shield,” he blurts out, “Hanguang-Jun would have died in that ritual without it. I think that was part of the plan! Senior Wei knew this was going to happen!”

“Maybe - Maybe he’s with Senior Wei?” Ouyang Zizhen offers, his voice trembling. “Because he’s free, right? That means he’s here somewhere - ”

“Exactly,” Lan Jingyi says, clinging to that thought, “He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to A-Yuan!”

Jin Ling jerks his thumb back where they came from. “Best bet would be near the pool. That’s where the prison was, and if Hanguang-Jun’s also still there - ”

A single howl - Wen Chao’s voice, enraged - rips through the air, cutting him off.

They freeze, and it’s only then that Lan Jingyi remembers.

“Seal the prison, seal the army, and stop the apocalypse, which will have the bonus of freeing me to do the more important things. Like kicking Wen Chao’s ass,” Senior Wei said. “Do you understand?”

Exchanging wide-eyed looks, they burst into motion, running past the spiked club and into the fog, towards where Wen Chao’s voice came from. The fog surrounds them as they run, slow to disperse and making it very hard to see more than a few feet beyond. It was clear, though, that something is happening, and whatever it is leaves a gruesome trail. More than once they nearly trip over a body prone on the floor, or they have to hide under destroyed machines or boulders because a scream is just a little too close, and all the while the sound of flesh hitting flesh, metal hitting metal, follows the three of them, making them more and more paranoid.

“Are they actually killing one another?” Ouyang Zizhen pants out, the third time they barely dodge a monster. This one is a screeching humanoid bird with enormous scaly wings that hurtles out of the fog, completely ignoring them in favor of moving as fast as possible. One whole arm of it is missing, black blood spurting from the wound.

Lan Jingyi tries very hard not to think about what kind of creature can rip off the limb of something easily the size of a small car.

There’s a flash of movement on Lan Jingyi’s peripheral vision -

“Do you think they’ve gone mad? ” Jin Ling is saying, half-terrified and half-hopeful, “What if that Yin Iron - ack!”

Lan Jingyi grabs the back of their shirts at the same time and pulls hard - hard enough to have momentum send all three of them sprawling to the ground - right before a body crashes on the spot where they had been a split second ago, kicking up a violent gust of wind and dust and dirt.

“Shitshitshit,” Jin Ling hisses, panicked. As Lan Jingyi wheezes underneath him, he quickly stands and turns around. “Sorrysorrysorry - ”

Ouyang Zizhen reaches for his offered hand and scrambles up. He looks at the body and shudders. “Ohhhh, that is horrifying.”

It’s some kind of reptilian monster, with black scales and lethally sharp claws, easily as enormous as A-Yuan’s stone body. It lies on its side, unmoving and curled in front of them, and the stench of blood oozing out from its stump of a neck is beyond pungent. And it is. It is horrible, but Lan Jingyi fails to see it at all. He barely even registers Jin Ling pulling him up to stand, the way he waves a hand uncertainly in front of his face. Something else has his attention now.

As soon as he’d fallen, Lan Jingyi had automatically scrabbled for anything to use as a weapon, and his hand had brushed against a rock as big as his own fist. In his struggle to reach out and grasp it, a flash of blue just beyond the fallen monster caught his eyes, and it was very hard to look away after that.

“Jingyi?” Jin Ling asks, alarmed by the shell shocked expression on his face, “Are you - ” He follows his gaze, and his question dies into a strangled sound.

Beside them, Ouyang Zizhen gasps.

The impact had blown a good portion of the fog away from them, giving them a clear view of a wider part of their surroundings. They’re actually closer to the center than they expected, because only a few feet ahead and a little to their left, the shores of it sloping gently down from them, is the pool.

In the aftermath of that ritual, Lan Jingyi didn’t know what he expected to see: a blood-soaked crater, maybe, or the skeletal remains of an army of monsters piled high like a mass grave, or even just - the pool, unfrozen, filled to the brim with blood.

“The fuck,” he says, his hand spasming around his makeshift weapon.

They all move, dazed, out from behind the corpse.

Lan Jingyi never expected to see… a perfectly ordinary cave pool, with crystal blue waters and a healthy sheen to it that gives it life. He has no doubt that it’s unimaginably deep, but the water is so clear that the limestones and the wildlife beneath its surface is visible. Where the Yin Iron fell there’s now an islet of green grass and gray-white rocks of various sizes, sitting empty. With the fog gone, the moon now bathes the entire pool in silver light. It’s beautiful, and if he hadn’t been here only a few minutes before he never would have imagined it to be anything other than what it is now.

“It worked!” Ouyang Zizhen whispers, low and excited. He wraps an arm around each of their shoulders and squeezes. “Oh my god, it worked! We should - ”

“NO!” Wen Chao screams, sounding much, much closer than before, and fuck.

They dive back behind the fallen monster, pell-mell and in panic, and a split second later Wen Chao himself bursts out from the fog. He runs past the reptilian corpse - doesn’t even seem to notice it at all - and staggers into the water, stopping where the water’s hip-deep. He spins wildly around and around in circles, choking out “No no no!”, and his whole being is a mixture of disbelief and unbridled rage.

Carefully, the three of them poke their heads out from their hiding place, waiting to see what happens with baited breath.

Wen Chao punches the surface in a fit of tantrum and whirls back to face the shore. “You!” he snarls, pointing a shaking finger where he came from, “What did you do? What did you do?”

The voice that answers, coming from a figure slowly emerging from the fog, has all three of them barely holding back cheers.

“I locked it,” Hanguang-Jun says, and then he fully steps into view. He stops only a few feet away from the pool, and just like the other man it doesn’t seem like he notices them at all. His eyes are trained on Wen Chao, cool and assessing. Like this, even with his injuries and clad only in his pajamas, Hanguang-Jun still looks much, much more dignified than his captor, whose sleek-looking black armor and deadly gun are severely undermined by stringy wet hair and the ugliest expression Lan Jingyi has ever seen on a person’s face.

Or perhaps he’s just biased, Lan Jingyi admits to himself. Really, it’s hard not to when Wen Chao is, visibly and at his core, a bastard.

Said bastard bares his teeth. “How dare you deceive me!!!”

“I spoke out loud. I wrote it all down,” Hanguang-Jun replies calmly. “I did not deceive.” And Lan Jingyi doesn’t know if his uncle does it deliberately but the way he tilts his head just so and looks down at Wen Chao just adds insult to the injury, like he didn’t even want to waste time verbally calling him stupid.

As if sensing this, Wen Chao’s face purples with anger. “You - !”

And then Hanguang-Jun shrugs. It’s rare. It’s small. It’s a gracefully delicate motion that Lan Jingyi now knows is calculated for maximum spite. “It is not my fault,” the Second Jade of Lan continues, “that you do not know how to read,” and oh shit.

Wen Chao’s hand flies into his shoulder holster, and before he knows it Lan Jingyi’s leaping out from behind the corpse, throwing the rock he’d been holding, and roaring, “NO!!”

The rock misses by a mile. Lan Jingyi lands on the ground and hits it hard on his hands and knees. There’s a split second of surprise on Wen Chao’s face as they make eye contact, and then it morphs into absolutely vindictive glee as his gun swings from Hanguang-Jun - who is shouting his name, who’s moving a heartbeat too late - to Lan Jingyi’s forehead.

Lan Jingyi squeezes his eyes shut, flings his arms up -

BANG!

- and feels nothing. For a few terrifying seconds, he’s frozen, mind blank and breath held. He touches his own face frantically, bewildered. Wha -

“A-A-Yuan?” Ouyang Zizhen cries out from somewhere behind him, stunned, and then, in much more delighted tones: “A-Yuan!”

Lan Jingyi opens his eyes.

There’s a boy with his back to him, with long flowing dark hair partially hiding the empty scabbard slung across his body. He’s wearing black robes highlighted in deep red, and he’s holding a magnificent sword diagonally in front of him, one hand on the handle and the other resting against the flat of the blade.

The bullet lies on the ground, useless.

“Hi,” the boy says, and his voice is softer than Lan Jingyi expected. He turns his head slightly, and Lan Jingyi sees the very tip of a nose, the planes of his cheekbones, and the faintest hint of warm brown eyes, before he asks: “Are you okay?”

Oh, so that’s what A-Yuan looks like.

Lan Jingyi starts to nod, before he realizes he probably can’t see him that well and blurts out, “Yeah, I’m fine, I - ”

“Jingyi,” Hanguang-Jun says, low and urgent, and Lan Jingyi whips around just in time to see his uncle drop to his knees by his side. “Jingyi, are you okay?” There’s a growing red spot on Hanguang-Jun’s right thigh, bleeding from a new, nasty-looking cut and staining his pajamas. Lan Jingyi’s words die in his mouth, and he lets out a dismayed sound instead.

“Who are you?!” Wen Chao demands, glarin at A-Yuan, but he doesn’t even wait for an answer before he starts bellowing, “Guards! Guards! KILL HI - ”

“They won’t come,” A-Yuan says, cutting him off.

Wen Chao stops. “What?”

“They won’t come,” A-Yuan repeats, polite. “I made sure.” He brings the sword up, an elegant curve flashing under the moonlight. Wen Chao’s eyes follow its trajectory back into its sheath, his gaze flicking back and forth between it and A-Yuan’s youthful face, and then he sneers and says, dripping with disbelief, “You?”

“Me,” A-Yuan says mildly. And like it was summoned a particularly strong wind blows through the cavern, taking with it the remains of the fog, and Lan Jingyi can’t help but gasp when it reveals all the monsters lying on the floor. Some of them are unconscious. A lot of them are clearly dead. Strewn around them are destroyed lab equipment, broken torchlights, and the mangled parts of the four-by-fours. The remaining humans are cowering behind anything they can find, watching them all fearfully. The only ones left standing are the fierce corpses, and strangely enough every single one of them is standing still.

“Jingyi! Move over!” and Lan Jingyi turns to see Ouyang Zizhen, clambering out of their hiding place and to his side.

“Hello?” Lan Jingyi hisses, alarmed. “We are not out of the woods yet? What are you - ”

“Exactly! And there’s no place safer than here,” Ouyang Zizhen says cheerfully, and as he settles on his other side, he turns to Lan Jingyi’s uncle and beams, “Hanguang-Jun! Thank goodness you’re alright!”

Jin Ling drops down next to Hanguang-Jun. “There were fierce corpses like two feet away from us,” he huffs, “We are not going to fucking - ” he twitches, leaning very slightly away from Hanguang-Jun, “We are not going to stay there and wait for it to kill us!”

Lan Jingyi’s uncle, however, shows no sign of hearing Jin Ling’s curse. Instead, his gaze is flitting between all three of them, taking in the sad state of their clothes, the blood and dirt on their skin, their numerous cuts and bruises. “I thought you were all dead,” he says, and something in his voice painfully tight. He reaches out a hand and pauses, as if he doesn’t know who to check first. “I’m sorry,” he says, “for all of this,” and then he looks to Lan Jingyi, guilt flashing across his normally calm face, “I would not have provoked him if I had known.”

“It’s okay, Hanguang-Jun,” Lan Jingyi hastily reassures him. “We’re all okay!”

“Yeah, we totally knew A-Yuan was out there,” Ouyang Zizhen lies, nodding earnestly, “He protected us!”

“A-Yuan,” Hanguang-Jun mouths, and this time he looks up at A-Yuan’s back. There’s an expression of wonder in his face. “...Wen Yuan?” he finally asks, “Wei Wuxian’s son?”

A-Yuan startles at the name, shifts as if to turn around -

“You think I’m scared of you?” Wen Chao asks then, cutting off their conversation, and all their attention is back on him. The disbelief is gone, quickly buried beneath bravado. Wen Chao flings his arms wide. “You think I’m powerless? The Yin Iron is just a conduit! I still have control” He whistles a high note, and the fierce corpses twitch. Wen Chao smiles, triumphant. “What, you think they’re not a threat to you at all?”

A-Yuan looks at the fierce corpses. He looks back at Wen Chao. Then: “No.”

“YOU - !” Wen Chao flushes, lips curling into a snarl, “I’ll wipe that cocksure arrogance off your face - ”

“Oh, I know they’re dangerous,” A-Yuan says, blinking, “But they’re not yours.”

“I AM THE MASTER OF DEMONIC CULTIVATION!” Wen Chao screams, and something in his voice makes the whole cavern shake. He starts to chant, fast and guttural, a harsh song, and this time the fierce corpses’ eyes start glowing red. As one they all move, turning to face A-Yuan -

“Meh, says who?” a new voice cuts in - a familiar voice, Lan Jingyi realizes, heart swooping with excitement.

- and A-Yuan grins.

There’s a single note of a flute, high like the sharp cry of a bird, and all at once the fierce corpses drop like stone.

Wen Chao whirls around, gun at hand, to face the newcomer.

Senior Wei is on the islet at the center of the pool, sitting on one of the bigger rocks with one leg up and the other dangling to the ground. One arm is propped up on his bent leg, lazily twirling the black flute between his fingers. He looks, on the surface, similar to how he’d been at his cave - messy ponytail, skin so pale that it glows under the moonlight, threadbare black robes on a figure that would make Jin Ling’s mom stage a revolt.

… Except that the more Lan Jingyi squints, the more he’s sure something about Senior Wei right now just hits - different.

“Who the hell are you?” Wen Chao demands.

Senior Wei completely ignores him, choosing to look at their little group instead. “Everyone alright?” he asks, and even the easy smile on his face is the same, really.

… Fuck it, whatever it is doesn’t change the fact that Senior Wei’s right there, and so Lan Jingyi pushes down his curiousity in favor of jumping up in excitement and yelling out, “Senior Wei!! You’re here!!”

As Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen practically trip over one another to stand up and shout out their own greeting, as A-Yuan takes the calmer road and bows in respect, as Senior Wei laughs and says, “I’ll take that as a yes,” there’s a rustle of clothing beside Lan Jingyi, and then Hanguang-Jun asks him, “Senior Wei?”

His voice had been low and quiet, but Senior Wei turns to him just the same. His gaze lands on Hanguang-Jun, and for a beat it just softens. “Hello, Hanguang-Jun,” Senior Wei says, and for all that it’s practically whispered his voice still echoes all around the cavern, warm and teasing.

Lan Jingyi’s pretty sure his uncle stops breathing.

BANG!

Senior Wei yelps, rolls backwards, and disappears behind the rock. They all cry out, and A-Yuan and Hanguang-Jun are the first to go forward -

There’s a scuffle on the islet, a muffled swear, and then Senior Wei pops back up, looking extremely put off but very much alive. “Oi!” he shouts indignantly, “We were having a moment!” and he wipes at the bleeding scratch on his cheek, where the bullet had grazed him, and glares.

It’s then that Lan Jingyi realizes what’s different, looking at bright red blood smeared across Senior Wei’s skin: the moonlight is hitting him, as in really hitting him, instead of just passing through like the torchlight did back in the cave. There’s no translucency, no blurred edges, none of the things that marked his impermanence. Now, Senior Wei looks like he’s - well, physically here. Solid.

He looks alive.

“I said,” Wen Chao says through gritted teeth. He cocks the smoking gun, points it again at Senior Wei. “Who - the fuck - are you?’

“You haven’t even answered my question. Why should I answer yours?” Senior Wei retorts, and he sits back once again, crosses his arms, “Who says you’re the master of demonic cultivation?”

“I am the direct descendant of Wen Mao - ”

“So?” Senior Wei looks completely unimpressed. “I’m not.”

“You - you dare to disrespect him?” Wen Chao hisses, purpling with rage, but before he can say anything else he stops, freezing, and his gaze flits to all the fallen fierce corpses. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” he says, with slow dawning realization, “You’re one of his!”

Senior Wei blinks, thrown at the sudden change. “One of whom?”

“The Yiling Patriarch’s!” Wen Chao spats, and then he sneers, “And I suppose you think you are the master? The rightful heir? When all he ever accomplished was taking advantage of the real founder of demonic cultivation? Everyone knows - ”

“No, Wen Chao,” Senior Wei says, cutting him off. He’d looked highly entertained at the mention of his supposed ancestor, like he’d been about to laugh, but now it’s gone, replaced by a casual, almost lazy sort of amusement. He leans on his elbows and says, “Not everyone knows. What did he do?”

“Everyone knows the Yiling Patriarch stole his work,” Wen Chao snaps. He didn’t even notice that Senior Wei knew his name, too wrapped up in his own emotions, “After everything my ancestor did for him - trained him, cared for him, loved him - he stole his legacy and used it to kill the greatest man who ever lived! Burned Qishan Wen to the ground! Aided the enemy in The Great War!”

“You make Wen Mao sound so amazing!” Senior Wei says, grinning, “Is that what they say nowadays?

That Wen Mao was a good leader? A kind leader? A poor schmuck whose own ward turned against him?”

“And you dare to imply that the Yiling Patriarch is anything more than a greedy son of a whore,” Wen Chao shoots back, “Your precious ancestor murdered his entire family,” and then he narrows his eyes and smirks, oblivious to the way Senior Wei goes very still, “Did you know he had a son? In the Siege of the Burial Mounds, he used his tiny little dead body as a sacrifice to call - ”

“That is not true!” A-Yuan cries out, but it’s drowned in noise as the pool suddenly explodes, jets of water shooting fast and deadly towards the ceiling. Hanguang-Jun is in front of their group immediately, pushing even A-Yuan behind him, and together they retreat a few steps as the brief display sprays water everywhere.

Ahead of them, Wen Chao cuts off and stumbles back in surprise; but his own retreat is stalled when Senior Wei is suddenly there, lightly landing on his feet in front of him. Before Wen Chao can even scream, Senior Wei slaps the heel of his palm against his chest hard, and the man goes flying back. Wen Chao shoots in panic, the bullet ricocheting wildly, uselessly, and then all the breath he has left leaves him in a rush as he suddenly slams against a fierce corpse.

Immediately, two undead arms clamp tight around Wen Chao’s shoulders.

Senior Wei smiles, all-teeth.

“Who are you?” Wen Chao says, and this time it's touched with fear.

Senior Wei ignores him. “Hey, Wen Chao,” he asks conversationally, “do you want to hear the real story?” and without waiting for an answer he waves a hand, and in response a column of water quietly rises from the pool behind him.

“Once there was a pair of rogue cultivators, a husband and a wife,” Senior Wei begins, “They had a child, a little boy, and they were all very happy,” and as his hands move the water in the air responds, twisting and splitting, until it forms three humanoid shapes wrapped together in an embrace. It’s a beautiful picture, reflecting the moonlight, but then Senior Wei laughs and says, “But, well, there would be no story if it ends there, would it?” and with that more and more of the water rises, taking the forms of terrifying beasts.

“Tragic story short, they were killed in a night hunt,” Senior Wei continues bluntly, “and in the space of a single night the child became an orphan. With no other family, he was left to fend for himself - a streetrat - for years. One day, he lost a vicious fight against rabid dogs over a scrap of food, and he would have been mauled to death, left bleeding on the ground, if not for the kindness of the Dafan Wens.” The water shifts from showing vicious dogs, claws out and tearing at a child’s figure, to a group of people, huddling around the small form and whisking them away.

“Recognize them, don’t you?” Senior Wei asks, when he catches Wen Chao stiffening in surprise. “They were a side branch of your sect, and they saved him, took him in, and loved him. But did you know that they weren’t really liked back then? They were ridiculed more than they were rewarded for focusing more on the healing arts than traditional cultivation. They weren’t strong by the sect’s standards,” He cocks his head, his hands pausing for a beat. “The irritating thing about the story you people like telling is that it’s a mistake to think your ancestor was benevolent. Wen Mao would not have given two shits about strays taken in by an inferior part of his family, but this boy showed promise. He was brilliant and too proud and stupid to hide it, and Wen Mao sat up and noticed.”

The water expands into the giant face of a fierce-looking man.

“I'll give you all the resources you want,” Senior Wei says, and as he speaks the face’s mouth moves as well, and a deep baritone voice overlaps his, reverberating all around the cavern, “All the training you need in order to better protect your little family. They will be safe while you are away, I promise, all you have to do is be loyal to me.’”

And as the face dissolves, Senior Wei continues, alone once again, “It was easy to be loyal at first. They had the same goal. Resentful spirits, ghouls, demons - they were terrorizing and haunting and killing. What’s controversial about wanting to keep the Wen territory safe, no? And so for a while everything was good, and the boy grew into a powerful cultivator,” the water changes, illustrating these beings, until Senior Wei smiles humorlessly and says, “And then the war happened.”

And as a whole the water abruptly drops back down to the pool with a splash.

“Wen Mao wanted more power, more territory, more wealth, and he was willing to wage a war to get them,” Senior Wei says flatly, and as he walks along the pool’s edge the water behind him swirls, slow and ominous. “He didn’t take it very well when his ward refused to fight. He didn't take it well when the Dafan Wens took his side and retreated to a position of neutrality, choosing to treat all who needed them regardless of sect. Wen Mao was angry when he found out,” Senior Wei goes closer to Wen Chao, until he’s standing a mere foot away from him, “He was angry when his ward repeatedly refused to fight in battles, refused orders to kill, refuse orders to sabotage, and he was especially angry when he discovered that, far from just mere refusal, his ward was actively, repeatedly interfering with his plans.”

Wen Chao seems to have gathered enough courage then, because he bites out, “If my ancestor hadn’t made the first move then another sect would have done so,” and he struggles against the fierce corpse’s iron hold, “That is the cycle of empires! The strong preys on the weak, and the Yiling Patriarch intentionally made his own sect weak and vulnerable to their enemies! Destroying crucial supply lines! Depriving his own brothers of necessities! Your lord - urk!”

“Necessity?” Senior Wei repeats, something flashing in his eyes, and at the same time the fierce corpse’s hold moves from Wen Chao’s shoulders to his neck, reducing his voice into a gargle.

"Slaves aren't a necessity, my friend," Senior Wei says gently. "People are not chattel. Not even if they were prisoners of war."

“There is no record of slavery - ” Wen Chao begins.

Senior Wei cuts him off. “I am speaking,” he says, and this time his voice is cold and deadly, “from experience.”

And at those words, Wen Chao shuts up. His eyes inadvertently fall on the black flute on Senior Wei’s hand, and a beat later he turns paper-white, fear taking hold as he finally, finally understands the whole picture.

“The punishment was swift when he was caught,” Senior Wei continues. There’s no more of his playful air, no more of his theatrics. “His allies were killed. The Dafan Wens were thrown into labor camps, where almost all of them were worked to death. And the boy himself?” He looks around at the cavern, “Well, he was tortured, stripped of his golden core, and dumped right here in the Burial Mounds.” He looks at Wen Chao intently. “How do you think he survived?”

As Wen Chao splutters a few feet away, Hanguang-Jun suddenly says, low and quiet and only for their ears, “This mountain was where Qishan Wen threw their enemies.” He moves from his protective stance, and now he turns to look at A-Yuan, something somber in his face. “It was filled with vengeful and angry spirits. Resentment. To die here was to be devoured.”

“He didn’t, though,” A-Yuan says, smiling humorlessly. His eyes never leave his father’s form. “Die, I mean.”

“Hn,” Hanguang-Jun agrees, and he looks back at Senior Wei too, “No, he did not.”

Lan Jingyi feels the hair on his own neck prickle, and beside him, Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen are not looking much better, poleaxed by their own revelations. For Lan Jingyi, the events of the past few days are now rapidly playing out in his head, certain parts of it standing out like a beacon. They’re rearranging themselves under a new light, upending the puzzle that he’d been furiously trying to solve ever since Xue Yang, and now, as the last piece slides into place, they form a crystal clear picture that Lan Jingyi has a hard fucking time accepting, on hindsight, that he’d missed.

I am the guardian of this mountain.

“Did you know, Wen Chao,” Senior Wei says softly, “that you don't need a golden core to use demonic cultivation? You can just draw from the resentful energy around you, and resentful energy itself will gladly let you use it.” He shrugs, twirling the black flute in one hand. “The only thing you have to do is to not let it use you.”

“Please - ” Wen Chao stammers.

“Wanna know something else?” Senior Wei asks, and this time he asks it almost playfully, “If you’re, say, a master of demonic cultivation, did you know that you can summon a whole army of resentful beings? Spirits, demons, monsters - tens of thousands of them, unlike the pathetic imitation that you’re doing now. That’s what the cultivators were up against, you know, when they murdered their way to the Burial Mounds to take what’s not theirs.” He pauses. “Kind of what you’re doing now, actually.”

Wen Chao falls to the ground as the fierce corpse abruptly lets him go, and he immediately crabwalks backward. “You can’t do this to me!” Wen Chao screams, his face is twisted grotesquely with fear, “I freed you! I FREED YOU - ”

“And I am very grateful,” Senior Wei says sincerely, lifting the flute to his mouth. It makes a black cut across his mouth when he smiles, baring his teeth, “Let me show you how much.”

And then he closes his eyes and starts to play, his fingers dancing across the flute. The melody is haunting, lilting but ominous, and immediately the fierce corpses stand back up. Wen Chao leaps up and runs, but one of fierce corpses breaks off and tackles him to the ground. A rumbling, groaning sound starts, vibrating from deep beneath the earth, and at the same time the water in the pool starts to churn, spinning rapidly until it forms a giant, violent whirlpool. Screams erupt from the remaining humans, and those with enough courage take off at a run, heading for the exits.

Their escape is quickly foiled when the whole cavern suddenly starts to shake, hard enough that some parts of the ceiling dislodge and crash down to the ground.

“Stick together,” A-Yuan calls out, herding them all closer. His eyes are alert, taking in all of their surroundings, but he doesn’t break out his sword. Instead, he says, “Hanguang-jun, may you - ”

Ouyang Zizhen’s cry of surprise cuts him off as a familiar net-like dome appears over them, deflecting the falling rocks.

“Oh, this is - ” Lan Jingyi says, stunned, and he turns.

Hanguang-Jun is holding out a glowing paper talisman. He looks completely serious and utterly absorbed as he chants, but Lan Jingyi swears that the tips of his ears flush when A-Yuan, for some strange reason, beams.

Jin Ling is poking at one golden thread. “Holy shit,” he says, awed, “Jingyi, you were right - ” but before he can say anything else the rumbling grows louder, drowning out every other sound.

They watch as something slowly, slowly emerges from the pool, something coal-black and dome-shaped and enormous. It looks like a rock at first, like a bigger piece of land displacing the tiny little islet, but as more and more of it is revealed, water sluicing down its surface and bringing with it the the debris of ancient bedrock, Lan Jingyi sees the ridged carapace, the elongated scaly neck rising out from the water, the steam shooting out from nostrils on a serpentine head, and he lets out a strangled squeak.

It has eyes, hidden behind a translucent membrane.

“Oh, he’s still asleep,” A-Yuan says, as mild as if he’s merely commenting on the lazy habits of someone’s goldfish, and what the fuck -

Senior Wei opens his eyes and stops playing, and immediately the whole cavern stills.

All that is left is the screaming.

Up above, the membrane flutters open, revealing slitted black pupils. The giant head undulates, as if slowly waking up from a very, very long sleep.

And then -

“Hey, Túlú Xuanwu,” the Yiling Patriarch says softly, his eyes gleaming red. “Wake up.”

-

The thing is that the chaos had been fast. In Lan Jingyi’s eyes, one second it was Xuanwu swaying like a snake in front its charmer, and then the next it was like a switch flipped and then it just went apeshit: roaring and viciously lunging after Wen Chao, wildly slamming against every screaming vulnerable and squishy human, pulverizing any and all equipment left standing, and eating every monster in sight. In the midst of this chaos, the fierce corpses had started tearing each other apart, and then their dismembered body parts were also swallowed by Xuanwu’s giant mouth. Towards the end, with no other monster food in sight, Xuanwu had landed its eyes on their little golden dome and for two seconds it really felt like it was going to eat them too, except one sharp note from Senior Wei’s flute had it shuddering, hissing and whipping around in confusion, and then a beat later it spat out Wen Chao and disappeared back into the pool.

And now here they are, in the absolute silence of the aftermath, and for a few seconds no one moves.

Then Senior Wei finally looks at them, the barest tilt of his head. He’s still standing on the same spot, flute hanging on his side. There’s an otherworldly quality to his physical appearance now, with red eyes and glowing deathly white skin and swirls of eerie black smoke swirling around him, making his hair and clothes move strangely in the air even in the absence of a breeze. He feels powerful, like this whole cavern is straining under the weight of trying to contain his presence, and he looks - well, like what Lan Jingyi would expect the Yiling Patriarch to look like, honestly, terrifying aura and all.

And then -

“Everyone alright?” Senior Wei asks. The concern is so evident and human and familiar, and just like that Lan Jingyi suddenly feels a little foolish for being even the slightest bit scared. Underneath the smoke and mirrors, after all, it’s still him.

It’s still Senior Wei.

Hanguang-Jun crumples the paper talisman, and the golden dome immediately disappears.

A-Yuan takes a few tentative steps forward and answers, “Yes, but are you - ”

“Oh, good!” Senior Wei says pleasantly, and then abruptly the air seems to exhale, becoming less oppressive, the black smoke dissipates, and the fearsome Yiling Patriarch promptly collapses to the ground.

“Senior Wei!” Jin Ling cries out, and they all break into a run.

It’s A-Yuan who gets there first, practically flying towards his father. The three of them are close behind, and soon they cluster all around Senior Wei, who’s looking - less of a Yiling Patriarch right now, actually, and okay if not for the way he’s starfished on the ground, staring up at the ceiling with the most bewildered expression on his face.

“No, I’m fine! I’m fine! I swear!” Senior Wei waves them off. It goes absolutely ignored as they help him to a sitting position. A-Yuan has one hand on his back and another on his wrist, his fingers glowing with white light. “Really,” he insists, “it’s just that I’m not used to this anymore. My body is - ”

“New,” A-Yuan says, worried. “Your body is new, father. You should take it easy.”

“New?” Ouyang Zizhen repeats, confused, which is fair because Senior Wei now looks more or less the same as he’d been pre-Xuanwu, brown eyes and all. “What do you mean?”

“Meh. You spend a thousand years fighting an army in limbo and preserving your physical body is really just the last of your concerns, you know? It’s nothing,” Senior Wei shrugs, oblivious to the horror on the three teenager’s faces, “I’m just really glad I still look like myself! Although, ” He looks at his outstretched legs, betrayed, “I’m pretty sure I’ve never been so weak.”

“The ritual made a new body, exactly like the one he had before,” A-Yuan tells the three of them helpfully, and then he shoots a mildly reproachful look at Senior Wei. “And you fell because it is still trying to acclimate, father. Please be careful. Your soul’s bond with it is probably still unstable.”

“Unstable? Does that mean his soul can get kicked out?” Jin Ling says, alarmed. He’s clutching at Senior Wei’s shoulder, looking ready to push any errant spirit back in should one suddenly escape.

“We don’t know. This is the first time we ever used it,” A-Yuan says. Beside him, Lan Jingyi lets out a strangled sound at the thought that this was technically an experiment, and A-Yuan adds, “Don’t worry. Father’s new core is small but strong, which is always a good sign, but it’s still important to be cautious. Having injuries is really not going to be helpful.”

“Ah, but now I have a body to injure, yes???” Senior Wei says, wiggling his eyebrows, and now a pleased grin is taking over his face, “Isn’t that a good problem to have, A-Yuan? Compared to - ”

“Are you crazy!” Lan Jingyi finally bursts out, unable to keep it in. “The best would be to have no problems at all!”

“That’s a little too ideal, don’t you think? After all, I’m very weak and old - ”

“Your body was made literally seconds ago - ”

"Ah, and I have all of you to thank for that, yes?" Senior Wei cuts in shamelessly, beaming, and in a flash he has them in an embrace that demonstrates how much he is definitely not weak. All three of them squawk in surprise, their heads practically squished together, and over their protests Senior Wei says cheerfully, "Don't elbow me, you brats! I'm as frail as a newborn! What if you hurt me?!"

A-Yuan, who'd skillfully avoided Senior Wei's lightning-fast grab, sits back and just shakes his head, equal parts fond and long-suffering. "Yes," he finally says, after a few seconds of watching them struggle. His eyes that are a little too bright. "Relatively, it is a good problem to have."

"See, even A-Yuan says you all did a good job!” Senior Wei says, “Can't I be happy?!"

"Senior Wei! You shouldn't overexert yourself - "

"Geroff me! You're worse than Fairy and SHE'S A DO - "

"STOP IT, OLD MAN!"

Senior Wei does let them go, eventually and after some good-natured complaining, only to look past them the moment he does and ask, beaming, "Aren't you proud, Hanguang-Jun?"

And they turn just in time to watch Hanguang-Jun drop down in front of Senior Wei's feet and sit, cross-legged.

"Hn. I am proud of them," Hanguang-Jun says, nodding his head in agreement, and he barely blinks an eye when three teenagers switch from worried yelling to barely contained grins, so embarrassingly obvious in their preening that Senior Wei laughs. "But," Hanguang-Jun says, as he upends the armful of small, brightly-colored packages he's carrying to the ground, "They will still be grounded."

"Oh, hey," Senior Wei says, perking up, and he crosses his legs and scoots closer. "I've seen this before! It’s food, right?”

"Yeah, Meal Replacement Bars!" Lan Jingyi exclaims excitedly, because the minute he saw them in Hanguang-Jun's arms his stomach rudely reminded him that they haven't eaten since forever. He and Ouyang Zizhen immediately start passing them around. "I know these brands. Dad said we should get the green ones - "

Wait.

"Grounded?" Lan Jingyi says, finally catching on, and Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling also stop tearing into their MREs to stare at Hanguang-Jun. "But why - " and then his uncle gives them all The Look and it hits them at once. It’s the same one he gave after the Xue Yang Experience. "Still?" Lan Jingyi asks, aghast, "To our parents?? Why??"

“Jiang Wanyin too," Hanguang-Jun says, and Jin Ling cringes. "They deserve to know everything."

"But - but they'll worry!" Ouyang Zizhen says, wide-eyed. He has four older sisters. Significantly older sisters. Lan Jingyi shudders. It's like having five parents instead of one.

"We've been missing for days. They are already worrying," Hanguang-Jun points out, and then he goes in for the kill: "They love you."

They visibly deflate at that.

Dammit.

"But everything? Like - everything everything?" Lan Jingyi asks desperately, "Can you even tell them about the - thing? Cultivation? Isn't there like an oath of secrecy or something with things like these?" And while a small part of him is thinking about that, the bigger part is recalling literally every single time Hanguang-Jun told them to do something and they clearly didn't listen. It's a laundry list that started the minute Xiao Xingchen got kidnapped and now includes classic hits such as "stay in the car", "run", and "do not set anything on fire". Forget megalomaniacs and blood rituals, the minute his parents discover how many times he almost died he'll be grounded within an inch of his life, and then he’ll have Nie Zonghui tailing him forever.

"No oath of secrecy. I can tell them everything relevant," There's a glint of unholy amusement in Hanguang-Jun's eyes, as if he knows exactly what they're thinking. And then he looks at Senior Wei, who’s watching them all with fascination, and pauses. "Maybe not everything," he amends, "Only those we have a right to share."

"Oh, you don't have to do that on my account, Hanguang-Jun!" And as A-Yuan giggles, Senior Wei taps the bridge of his nose thoughtfully and says, "You can say something like - they found a fanatical believer of the evil Yiling Patriarch just languishing in the underground dungeons of Wen Mao's delusional descendant, they felt very angry on his behalf, and so they boldly rescued him despite the high risk of death and dismemberment," he grins, raising his eyebrows, "What do you think? It's less fantastical, but the themes are there. Bravery! Compassion! Foolishness!"

"Senior Wei!"

"Hn," Hanguang-Jun says, and there's actually the tiniest hint of a freaking smirk. "I could."

Unbelievable.

Lan Jingyi groans loudly, turning his head to look at A-Yuan. "Do you have room here for one more person?" he asks urgently, and when A-Yuan just giggles harder, he insists, "No, really, I am running away from home!" He lets his head hit A-Yuan's shoulder with a thunk and whines, "A-Yuan!"

Across from them, Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen raise their hands up immediately. "Make that three," Jin Ling says. He looks as if he's already imagined the conversation he'll have with his parents, the conversation he'll have with his uncle, and made the executive decision to save time and go through all the stages of grief now.

The Burial Mounds isn't so bad, Lan Jingyi thinks philosophically. Bit too dark, bit too damp, no internet, but they'll figure that out later. Plus, they’ll have each other! What’s not to love??

"Afraid not," A-Yuan says, cutting off his thoughts. He pats Lan Jingyi's head in consolation, smiling all the while, "We're actually not planning on staying here for long."

And that has Lan Jingyi sitting up. "Wait, really?"

But then it hits him: Of course. The prison’s gone. The two of them are free.

And Senior Wei tears his eyes away from the weird little staredown he's having with Hanguang-Jun to say, "Yes. There may still be other prisoners out there from when the lock was first destroyed. Plus, maybe there's even more of the Wens' little experiments stashed away somewhere! Who knows? But either way, someone has to tie up all the loose ends. It will be disastrous to leave even just one hanging," And then he straightens up, tensing slightly. "Wait. Where is Wen Chao bastard, anyway?"

"There," Hanguang-Jun tilts his head to indicate where he came from, "I was searching for food and medicine,” he says, and a distasteful look crosses his face. “He had a lot. Seven in his belt. Others had only one or two."

And sure enough, when they turn to look, Wen Chao's body is right there. The pockets of his utility belt are open, the contents scattered all over. He’d been thrown so close to them, Lan Jingyi realizes, but they’d been so intent on reaching Senior Wei that they completely ignored him.

"Is he dead?" Ouyang Zizhen asks. He cranes his neck to look at him better, squinting ferociously. His funk has been temporarily forgotten in favor of morbid fascination, "He looks dead."

And it’s true. The heir to Qishan Wen’s sprawled on the ground, and his entire body is covered in a red-black mucoid discharge that smells horrifically like decomposing bodies. His face is covered in snot and tears, eyes closed but his whole expression frozen in a rictus of terror. Lan Jingyi wouldn’t be surprised if, underneath all that gunk, there’d be the stain of urine in his pants. Wen Chao probably reached the pre-digestive phase in Xuanwu’s stomach, mixed with the remnants of his own monster army, and then he was spat back out. It all sounds like a horrible - if well-deserved - experience.

"Oh, definitely not," Senior Wei says, "He has dozens of human sacrifices to answer for, and some of those are alive and ready to crucify him. Dying now would be too convenient." His eyes flit around to the unconscious forms of Wen Chao's men, thrown all over the cavern, and he scowls, "Too convenient for any of them."

"Survivors?" Jin Ling asks, startled, “Wen Chao said there were no survivors."

"Ha! That he knows of," Senior Wei huffs, "Did you know that they only brought corpses here at first? I was barely even whole then, and even when I was strong enough to feel them here, what could I do? I was trapped, and A-Yuan wasn’t even awake at that point. The bodies were just there, left to rot by Wen Chao and his men,” He takes a bite out of the MRE, aggressive enough that it feels like he's imagining someone's head on it. It’s not hard to imagine who. "But then one day,” he continues, getting more and more worked up, “they accidentally left one of their victims alive. She regained consciousness in the middle of the ritual. It was a good thing I was a little more put together at that point. I heard her crying."

"I woke up," A-Yuan says, as he places a calming hand on Senior Wei’s shoulder, "I heard my father screaming, and fortunately that was when we found out that I had a little more freedom than him. I was able to save her, but her disappearance had Wen Chao thinking that he made progress. He changed his approach," he shakes his head, "All of his human sacrifices after that were alive. We saved as many as we could, but they weren’t always - uninjured.”

"Where are they now??" Lan Jingyi asks, unconsciously gripping Senior Wei’s robes tightly. Alive is a generous word, and Wen Chao’s a stingy bastard. How many survived? The three of them were supposed to be sacrifices, Lan Jingyi recalls, and he shudders. It was jarring to think of what could have been.

"Lying low and sticking together," Senior Wei says, "Wen Chao couldn't know that they survived. They think their families are still being watched. But now that the Wens are going down - " He looks up, crossing his arms, and says thoughtfully, "Me and A-Yuan should visit and let them know what happened. Their loved ones may still be under surveillance, but without Wen Chao's signal… ” he nods decisively, looking a little calmer now, “Yeah, okay, that’s the first thing on the list.”

And as A-Yuan dips his head in agreement, Hanguang-Jun suddenly asks, “And after?”

Senior Wei cocks his head in questions. “What do you mean?”

"After you’ve done everything you need to do," Hanguang-Jun says, looking strangely intent, "What happens after?”

At that, Senior Wei blinks. “Oh,” he says, as if it never occurred to him before to plan an after. But then, after a heartbeat, a small grin slowly grows on his face, and he shrugs. “Who knows? But the world is wide, Hanguang-Jun, and it's been a very long time," and he adopts a teasing tone and says, "Why? Do you have any suggestions for A-Yuan and me?"

"Gusu," Hanguang-Jun says immediately. "Come back to Gusu with me."

"Bah, you have to explain more, Hanguang-Jun! What even is - " Senior Wei stops, the rest of what he heard catching up to him, and stares with wide eyes. "What?"

"Gusu Lan," Hanguang-Jun says, and then he reaches out as if to place a hand on Senior Wei's knee, pauses, and then pulls his hand back. He looks at A-Yuan, something soft in his eyes, before he faces forward once again. "My name is Lan Wangji,” he says quietly, “Gusu Lan is my home. We can help you."

But Lan Jingyi doesn't notice his uncle's strange behavior, or how Senior Wei looks weirdly flushed, or how A-Yuan’s eyes are ping-ponging between the two adults like it's the most interesting tennis match in the world. He doesn't notice because he's just been hit with an epiphany. He straightens up, a thrill of excitement going down his spine, because Hanguang-Jun's right.

What’s more, it’s not them. It’s not just Gusu Lan.

He looks immediately to Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen, only to find them already looking back, the same idea reflected in their faces.

A-Yuan is the only one who clocks on to their wordless communication, because he gives them all a curious glance.

As for the two adults, well -

"You don't have to do this," Senior Wei is saying hastily. "You guys have done more than enough - "

"NO!" Lan Jingyi yells, and it's so abrupt and loud that Senior Wei startles, fumbling the MRE.

Ouyang Zizhen and A-Yuan giggle. Jin Ling slaps a hand against his forehead, and Hanguang-Jun blinks. Emphatically.

Shit. That was probably too much.

But Lan Jingyi discards that thought immediately. Whatever! If it all works out, they won't even have to part ways with Senior Wei and A-Yuan at all. And so he thickens his face, takes advantage of their attention, and turns to Senior Wei and A-Yuan. "My uncle’s right,” he says quickly, “Gusu’s awesome and we can help! My whole family's in law or academia or law and academia. We have resources! We can totally kick Wen Chao's ass with you - "

"Jingyi," Hanguang-Jun says.

"- Wen Chao's butt, I mean, sorryHanguangJun - "

"My sisters are doctors," Ouyang Zizhen offers, and the nonchalant way he says it is completely opposed to the way his face is practically shining with excitement, "And dad's in the housing business. If you need a place to stay, or if any of the survivors need medical help - ohmygosh, you should probably see them too, Senior Wei! And you too, A-Yuan - "

"Zizhen," Hanguang-Jun says, looking pointedly at Ouyang Zizhen's busted lip.

"- and we will also see a doctor, of course! Just not my sisters, Hanguang-Jun, ahaha - "

"My family's loaded," Jin Ling says bluntly, "The old bastard was literally in the mafia.”

"I have no idea what that means," Senior Wei says faintly.

"Jin Ling," Hanguang-Jun sighs.

"He was, Hanguang-Jun! That's why he's in jail!" Jin Ling insists, and then he looks earnestly at Senior Wei, "But, seriously, it’s all okay now because my parents have been doing a lot of reform and also my uncle is terrifying and honestly I just think they'll like the both of you," he rushes out, all in one determined breath, and then he immediately crosses his arms, a stubborn tilt to his chin, and says, "Come on! It can work out!"

There's a few seconds where Senior Wei just blinks at them, speechless. A-Yuan's on the same boat too. It’s not looking good, and now there's the slightest slump in Hanguang-Jun's shoulders and that’s definitely not good -

"Come on, Senior Wei," Lan Jingyi wheedles, and then he nudges A-Yuan with his elbows conspiratorially, "A-Yuan! Don't you think it's a good idea? Come on, come on, you have to let us help! Isn't that what friends are for?!"

"...Friends," A-Yuan echoes.

“Exactly! It’s - ” and Lan Jingyi stops, feeling the way his heart squeezes at the stunned tone of A-Yuan’s voice. Across from them, Jin Ling is looking stricken, and Ouyang Zizhen is just visibly restraining himself from leaping over to hug A-Yuan. Holy shit, they are the first people Senior Wei and A-Yuan ever really knew post-freedom, aren't they? And considering what even happened when they first lived - he shakes his head, banishing the thoughts.

He refuses to feel awkward about this. They don’t need his pity. And it’s not like anything he said wasn’t true!

Lan Jingyi bumps his shoulder against A-Yuan’s, lets it press there, "Yes, obviously!” he says loudly, as lofty as he can, “You can't go on life-changing field trips together and not be friends, A-Yuan. That's not how it works!"

And to Lan Jingyi’s delight, a slow smile finally spreads across A-Yuan's face, small and a little shy. “Yes,” he admits, ducking his head, "I think it's a great idea."

They turn to Hanguang-Jun hopefully, and far from the exasperation Lan Jingyi expected, his uncle’s actually looking at the three of them with a quiet sort of pride, the kind that makes them feel warm to their bones.

"You will both be welcomed in our homes," Hanguang-Jun says, shifting to face their two new companions again, "After everything you've done, after everything you will be doing, it is the least we can do. If there are places you need to go, we will help you get there. If there are things that you need, we have more than enough resources to give you. And if you would let me - " Hanguang-Jun pauses then, the briefest flash of uncertainty on his face, before he takes the smallest of fortifying breaths. He looks at Senior Wei and A-Yuan more fully and says, solemn and quiet, "If you would let me, I can help you tell the truth. All of it."

A-Yuan smile gets bigger. He bows his head in thanks, but this time he wordlessly turns to Senior Wei.

"Ah, it’s okay, Hanguang-jun." Senior Wei says haltingly, laughing weakly. He looks overwhelmed, and his hands flutter uselessly in the air, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, “That was a long time ago. It doesn’t really matter anymore…”

“Disagree,” Hanguang-Jun says gently, “Our stories outlive us. It’s only right that it should be the correct one.”

And Lan Jingyi watches with his heart in his throat as something gives in Senior Wei’s face, and just like that Senior Wei shakes his head and lets out a laugh. It’s low and a little wet, and he’s blinking a little too rapidly, but there’s a smile spreading across his face, tremulous but entirely genuine.

They wait with baited breath -

“Okay,” Senior Wei says finally, and he laughs, brighter this time, when his answer is met with loud cheers from three extremely relieved teenagers. A-Yuan’s beaming, and personally Lan Jingyi feels a weight in his chest decrease. Immediately, plans bloom in his mind. Senior Wei and A-Yuan are probably going to finish world-saving matters in like, two weeks. No, one week because they’re definitely not going to do it alone, obviously. Senior Wei and A-Yuan have them! So: one week. That means they have more than enough time left before school starts again.

“This is going to be amazing!” Ouyang Zizhen says excitedly. “A-Yuan! Where do you want to go first?”

“Ah, I’m open to anything! Where do you suggest?”

Lan Jingyi claps his hands in glee. Where would they go post-saving the world? They can visit A-Qing! And then probably Baling? Yunmeng? Lanling?

“Lanling? My parents are still in Yunmeng! Why would we even stay in Lanling for that long - ”

… Probably not too long in Lanling, yeah. He loves Jin Ling and his parents, but what’s left if they’re not there?? Jin Ling’s distant relatives are seriously so slimy -

“But!” Senior Wei says, and he grins and points at Hanguang-Jun, “Before anything else, you really have to tell me how you cracked my code, Hanguang-Jun. I was proud of that!”

And to Lan Jingyi’s astonishment, his uncle actually smiles, small and private.

“Hn,” Hanguang-Jun agrees, and the way he speaks after holds the weight of a promise. “I will tell you everything, Wei Wuxian, and I will listen to you in turn.”

Senior Wei’s grin mellows, turning into something more gentle. “Call me Wei Ying,” he says warmly, “And, thank you. I’d like that very much.”

Oh, Lan Jingyi realizes, looking at the two of them.

Ohhhh.

So it wasn’t a staredown.

-

Hanguang-Jun,

Your kids said you can read the code. First off, Congratulations! Second, please don’t destroy the lock. Make the following changes on the array instead and say the words at the bottom of the paper. There are talismans on the last page. Use it when the ritual starts. It’ll be absolutely destructive, and I really don’t want you to die.

And, yes, it’s exactly what it looks like. You probably know who I am, don’t you? But I’m not what they say I am, and from what your kids tell me I think you know that as well.

Don’t worry about your kids, by the way. They’re with my son. He’s the best! As for why he’s here - well. It’s a long story, and I hope after this I’ll get the chance to tell you everything.

I’m banking on this, Hanguang-Jun. I’ll stop Wen Chao, I swear. I’ll keep you all safe. Please just trust me.

Wei Wuxian

-