Chapter Text
The day Lan Wangji was punished was probably the bloodiest day the Gusu Lan sect’s ancestral hall has ever witnessed.
It might be that those who committed more severe offenses than Lan Wangji were either immediately and decisively expelled from the sect, or they simply couldn't survive so many lashes.
Lan Wangji was the first in Gusu Lan to survive thirty-three lashes of the discipline whip.
All the young disciples who witnessed this punishment were deeply traumatised. For the next decade or so, no one dared to stray even slightly out of line, making them much easier to manage until Lan Jingyi's generation. The older shixiongs and shijies often said that Jingyi and his peers grew up to be so lively and carefree, only because they never witnessed the sight of Hanguang-jun back then.
Hanguang-jun, as pure and unsullied as the bright moon, the model and idol for all disciples, was beaten into a bloody pulp by Lan Qiren. Blood soaked his white robes and the green bricks of the floor, and it took many months to clean out the blood between those bricks of the ancestral hall.
Lan Qiren wielded the whip, showing no mercy with each lash, every strike powerful enough to kill.
At first, some clan members who had been hurt by Lan Zhan felt a bit of spiteful satisfaction, but after the fifteenth lash, they all averted their eyes and could no longer bear to watch. Though it was one lash for each person wronged, thirty-three lashes had long surpassed the idea of mere punishment. If this continued, Lan Wangji would either be crippled, or die.
Perhaps in the hearts of many, this was not a fate befitting Lan Wangji. Even if he was executed with a swift sword, he shouldn’t be beaten to death or left crippled and fallen from grace for life.
But for his offence, no one could plead for mercy.
Not even Lan Xichen.
He didn’t plead for mercy either.
He is the elder brother and the sect leader. His position meant he couldn’t utter a word. Not having to execute the punishment himself was already the greatest mercy. So, he sat behind Lan Qiren, sitting on the cold, carved redwood chair that belonged to the sect leader, and could only watch coldly and solemnly.
At the twenty-fifth lash, Lan Wangji finally lost consciousness.
Lan Qiren paused, and Lan Xichen finally stood up, grabbed Lan Wangji's wrist to check his pulse, and his expression changed slightly. He stood up and said, "His golden core has cracked."
The crowd erupted into a clamour.
Lan Qiren's hand holding the whip trembled slightly. "Thirty-three lashes, not a single one less. If he can't survive, it's his fate."
He was about to raise the whip again, but Lan Xichen stopped him.
Lan Qiren looked at him and said, "Xichen, you as the sect leader..."
"I am not trying to shield him," Lan Xichen interrupted. He took the discipline whip from Lan Qiren's hand and held it in front of him, saying to all the elders in the hall, "Wangji disrespected his elders and harmed his clan members; his crimes are unforgivable. If he does not pay for these sins, as sect leader or as elder brother, I cannot be at peace. Uncle, you are tired. Let the elders offended by Wangji administer the remaining lashes." With that, he presented the whip to Lan Feng, one of the elders who was injured at the Burial Mound and was overseeing the punishment.
Lan Feng hesitantly took the discipline whip, his face showing some doubt and uncertainty.
Lan Xichen slightly bowed and said, "I hope Sect Uncle will teach Wangji a proper lesson and forgive him."
Lan Feng looked at Lan Xichen's hands, which were still soaked with Lan Wangji's blood from the whip. The blood dripped down between his thumb and forefinger, hitting the green bricks with a "splat." Seeing Lan Xichen’s expressionless face, his heart involuntarily skipped a beat. For someone as gentle as Lan Xichen, being expressionless was already a terrifying expression.
Lan Feng quietly swallowed and glanced around the hall, and started to understand Lan Xichen's intentions.
The direct bloodline of the Lan sect was all present in the hall: one to administer punishment, one to receive punishment, and one to oversee the punishment.
Now that Lan Wangji's golden core was cracked and his life hung by a thread, if it was Lan Qiren who beat Lan Wangji to death, no one could say anything. But now that Lan Xichen suddenly let others administer the punishment, Lan Wangji's life or death was now in their hands. If they wanted Lan Wangji dead, three to five forceful strikes without holding back would undoubtedly kill him. But if they really did that, no one could openly object, yet it would mean a fatal offence against the sect's direct bloodline.
The implication of Lan Xichen’s action was subtle yet clear: are you really going to kill my baby brother right in front of me?
Lan Qiren clearly understood this as well and frowned even more deeply than before. But he did not object.
Lan Feng stepped forward with the whip in hand, yet hesitated again when he was about to strike. Lan Wangji was already a bloody mess, with no unharmed spot on his back. He wanted to go easy on him but didn't know where it would be safe to strike. What if he didn’t control his strength well and accidentally killed Lan Wangji? That would be a real injustice.
After much hesitation, Lan Feng finally landed a blow on Lan Wangji's leg, then passed the discipline whip to the next person, and said with feigned anger, "Had you known this, why act so foolishly?"
Lan Xichen bowed to him, "Xichen thank sect uncle on behalf of Wangji for your lesson."
With this example set, who among the rest could still not understand? The younger disciples trembled with fear, but the elders, who had navigated the cultivation world for so many years, could see as clear as a mirror. Whether they truly believed Lan Wangji’s crime didn’t warrant death, or simply didn’t want to offend Lan Xichen, they all followed suit, raising the whip high yet bringing it down gently, finishing the remaining seven lashes.
As the last lash fell, this bloody punishment ended, leaving Lan Wangji lying in a pool of blood, his life or death unknown. Some younger disciples, frightened by such a gruesome scene, had already started crying, unsure if their admired Hanguang-jun was dead or alive. The sound of light sobbing came from the crowd, and many elders looked away, sighing in regret.
Lan Xichen did not immediately summon treatment, but instead looked around the hall and said to all the clan members present, "Today, the punishment has been served, and grievances have been settled. I hope the disciples of our Gusu Lan sect will take this as a warning, adhere to the righteous path, and not stray, for the sect rules are unforgiving."
All the disciples murmured their agreement, then slowly dispersed.
Lan Xichen carried Lan Wangji back to the Quiet Room, with Lan Qiren following behind.
Lan Xichen's unexpected intervention today had caught him off guard, as well as many of the clan elders. Lan Xichen had always been a gentleman who followed the rules, and his role as the sect leader was gentle and restrained. Regarding internal family matters, he never opposed anything decided by Lan Qiren. Often, it felt like there was no presence of the sect leader at all. Whether it was swearing the oath at Nightless City or the siege of the Burial Mound, he never clearly opposed anything — until today’s subtle but firm coercion, which truly surprised many.
The Lan clan's physicians were almost at a loss on how to treat Lan Wangji’s injuries. Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren took turns infusing him with spiritual energy throughout the night, barely able to keep him alive so the physicians could tend to his wounds.
By dawn, the physicians had finally bandaged Lan Wangji up, and at least his wounds were no longer bleeding — mainly because there was hardly any blood left to bleed.
Exhausted, Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen finally stopped their efforts and sat silently by the bedside.
After a while, Lan Qiren suddenly asked, "Xichen, what were you thinking yesterday? Can you tell Uncle?"
Lan Xichen replied, "Uncle, I would also like to ask you. If I hadn’t acted yesterday, would you really have beaten Wangji to death?"
Lan Qiren’s face showed a pained and conflicted expression. His chest heaved for a moment before he spoke, "How could I bear it, how could I bear it! But Xichen, you are the sect leader. If someone, not your brother, had done such things, would they have been spared from this punishment? By showing your bias like this, you risk criticism."
"Uncle," Lan Xichen said calmly, "Even if Wangji were not my brother, I would have done the same."
Lan Qiren clearly didn't believe him.
"If you want a reason, I will give you the reason as a sect leader." Lan Xichen rose to his feet, his gaze falling on Bichen resting in the sword rack by the bed. He reached out to carefully stroke the blade, and softly said, "Uncle, though you taught us well, and Wangji and I have earned the title of the Twin Jades of the Lan Sect, you surely know that among our generation of the Lan clan disciples, most have average talent with few truly outstanding ones. After the burning of the Cloud Recesses, the Sunshot Campaign, and the chaos at Nightless City and the Burial Mounds, many have been lost. Wangji has always been one of our clan’s greatest pillars of strength. He was before, and he is now. In the future, at least for the next decade or so, I see no other disciples capable enough to take his place. Now that the great battle has just ended, it’s time to establish a new order and for sects to fight for positions. If we were to lose Wangji at this critical moment, how would the Lan clan stand its ground in the cultivation world? On my strength alone? Xichen does not believe himself to be that much capable. This is the reason I offer you as the sect leader."
Lan Qiren was silent for a long while, unable to speak.
"Moreover, Wei Ying is dead, and whatever grave mistakes Wangji made, he has paid for them in full. What is the point of punishing him further? Now, he is in utter despair. In the past, he might have been able to survive these thirty-three lashes, but today, they will surely kill him. It is better to leave him be."
Lan Qiren sighed wearily. The two disciples he had raised by hand seemed to have grown up overnight. Yet he did not know when this happened, and the direction of their growth was not as he had hoped. He could not help but feel a sense of defeat.
But the person standing before him today, speaking to him, was no longer his nephew but the sect leader of the Lan clan. He too had to start adapting to this change.
“Xichen, since you put it this way, I will be frank with you,” Lan Qiren said heavily, holding his forehead with one hand. “For his affair with that Wei Ying, I will not argue about loyalty or betrayal, right or wrong. But his hands are stained with the blood of our clan. Without taking these thirty-three strikes, he could not face the clan. The clan members will turn on him, and there is nothing you could do. No matter how high his spiritual power is, it is of no use, and may even have the opposite effect. Wangji is your blood brother, the direct line of the Lan clan. If the clan becomes estranged from him, even your position as sect leader could become unstable. Do you understand?”
“Xichen understands.” Lan Xichen nodded calmly, his expression unchanged. “But Wangji cannot die.”
“Enough. Since you already understand everything, I have nothing more to say. Now that I think about it, no one else could have done anything. What you did yesterday was already the best action to take. Might as well, might as well.”
From the bed, the unconscious Lan Wangji muttered a few words in his sleep. Lan Qiren leaned in to listen closely. When he heard what was said, his face went green with anger, and with a flick of his sleeve, he rose and left the Quiet Room.