Chapter Text
Chapter 1: An Offer Most Unseemly
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The great hall of the Lan sect shimmered in the waning light of dusk, its pristine white walls and azure accents reflecting a purity befitting Gusu Lan’s reputation. Arrayed within were representatives of the major sects—Nie, Jiang, Jin, and a few lesser-known clans—all bearing grim countenances. Seated at the head of the assembly was Lan Qiren, his face as impassive as stone, though the tension in his brows betrayed his unease. Beside him, Lan Xichen, the revered Zewu-Jun, maintained a serene visage, while his younger brother, Lan Wangji, was the very picture of stoicism. Their stillness, however, was a fragile mask concealing their shared apprehension.
Across from them, Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, reclined casually, a stark contrast to the assembled propriety. Dressed in robes of deep black, embroidered with faint patterns of silver clouds, he radiated an effortless, otherworldly authority. The candlelight caught the wicked curve of his smirk as his dark eyes flicked lazily over the gathered sect leaders.
“Immortal Wei,” began Nie Mingjue, his voice firm, though his eyes blazed with anger. “The Wen Clan has grown beyond any single sect’s ability to resist. Their forces are vast, their ambitions unchecked. This alliance must hold, or all will fall.”
Wei Wuxian did not reply immediately, instead running a finger along the rim of his wine cup. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between amusement and boredom. Finally, he spoke, his tone light, almost mocking. “And what does that have to do with me?”
Jiang Cheng, seated a little ways off, stiffened. His sister’s husband, Jin Zixuan, clenched his jaw, clearly bristling at Wei Wuxian’s audacity. But none dared interrupt.
“We have come to entreat your aid,” Lan Xichen said, his voice gentle but resolute. “Your cultivation is unparalleled, and your strength could turn the tide of this war.”
Wei Wuxian tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Ah, Zewu-Jun, always so courteous. But why should I, who have long removed myself from the petty squabbles of sects, involve myself now? The Wen Clan does not concern me.”
“It will concern you when they come for the Burial Mounds,” Nie Mingjue growled, his temper slipping. “Do you think you can hold against them alone, no matter how powerful you are?”
Wei Wuxian’s grin widened. “I suppose I might.” He shrugged languidly. “But whether I can or cannot is irrelevant. I am not a sect leader, nor am I beholden to any clan’s wishes.”
“You are unreasonable,” Nie Mingjue snapped, rising to his feet. “Countless lives are at stake, and you would—”
“Enough, Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen interrupted softly, though there was a faint edge to his voice. “Let us not antagonize him.”
Nie Mingjue sat back down reluctantly, though his glare never wavered.
It was then that Jin Guangshan, head of the Jin Clan, leaned forward. His voice was oily, calculated. “Immortal Wei, if it is a matter of reward, name your price. We are prepared to give whatever you desire.”
The room fell silent. Even Jiang Cheng looked taken aback by the blatant desperation in Jin Guangshan’s tone. Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow, his amusement deepening.
“Whatever I desire?” he echoed, his voice slow and deliberate. “You would do well to consider those words carefully, Sect Leader Jin.”
“We mean it,” Jin Guangshan said, though his oily confidence faltered slightly under Wei Wuxian’s gaze. “Anything within reason.”
Wei Wuxian straightened, setting his wine cup aside. For the first time, his playful demeanor gave way to something colder, sharper—a glint of steel beneath the velvet. “Very well. If you wish to buy my aid, I shall name my price.”
All eyes were on him now. Tension thickened in the room like a storm cloud, each leader bracing themselves for the Immortal’s demand.
“I want,” Wei Wuxian began, pausing for effect, “the Twin Jades of Lan.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. A collective intake of breath swept the room as the implication of his demand struck like a thunderclap. Lan Qiren rose abruptly, his face ashen.
“Outrageous!” he thundered, his normally composed demeanor shattered. “Immortal Wei, you insult our sect with such an indecent demand!”
Nie Mingjue was on his feet again, his fury barely contained. “Wei Wuxian, have you lost your mind? To demand Zewu-Jun and Hanguang-Jun as some… some war prizes—do you have no shame?”
Lan Xichen remained seated, though his hands tightened imperceptibly around the folds of his robes. Lan Wangji’s gaze fixed on Wei Wuxian, unblinking, though a faint flicker of something—anger? Confusion?—passed through his golden eyes.
Wei Wuxian leaned forward, his smile sharper now, more dangerous. “I said I would name my price, and I have. If it is too steep, you are free to decline. But let me make one thing clear—without me, you have no hope against the Wen Clan. You will fall, one by one, until nothing remains but ash and regret.”
The room erupted into chaos. Lan Qiren argued vehemently, his voice rising above the others as he declared the proposal unconscionable. Nie Mingjue shouted something about honor and respect. Jin Guangshan paled but said nothing, his earlier confidence completely eroded. Jiang Cheng, for his part, looked as though he wanted to throttle Wei Wuxian but held back, his lips pressed into a tight line.
“Enough!” Wei Wuxian’s voice cut through the din like a blade. The room fell silent once more as all eyes turned to him. His expression was cold now, his earlier mirth replaced by something far more severe. “You came to me, begging for my help. You swore you would give me anything I asked for. Now that I have named my price, you balk? Hypocrites, all of you.”
Lan Qiren’s hand gripped the armrest of his seat as though it might anchor him amidst this absurdity. His knuckles whitened, and his breathing turned shallow. When he spoke, his voice was low, barely restrained.
“This is a travesty,” he hissed, his face pale as frost. “The Lan Clan has existed for generations, built upon principles of virtue, honor, and restraint. To barter away the Twin Jades for your amusement—this, Immortal Wei, is beyond reprehensible. It is—”
“Lan Qiren,” Wei Wuxian interrupted, his tone soft but laced with venom. “Do not lecture me about principles. Principles will not save you when the Wen Clan sets fire to your mountain. They will not protect the disciples who die screaming under Wen Ruohan’s blade. I am offering you a lifeline. If you prefer to drown, by all means, refuse me.”
“You call this a lifeline?” Nie Mingjue’s voice was thunderous, his rage a palpable force in the room. He slammed his hand against the table, the wood groaning under the impact. “This is coercion! You are no better than the Wen Clan if you would demand something so vile!”
Wei Wuxian turned to him, unflinching, his smirk fading into something colder. “Nie Mingjue. Always so righteous. Tell me, if the Wen Clan massacres the Lan sect tomorrow, will your outrage shield them? Will your indignation stop the bloodshed? The path to victory is paved with sacrifices. If you cannot stomach that, perhaps you should step aside.”
The room quivered with tension. Nie Mingjue’s jaw clenched, but Lan Xichen’s hand on his arm stopped him from replying. Zewu-Jun’s gaze was steady, though his voice, when it came, was quieter than before.
“Immortal Wei,” Lan Xichen began, each word deliberate, “you have made your terms clear. But I ask—why us? Why my brother and me?”
Wei Wuxian’s lips curled into a half-smile, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Why not you? The Twin Jades are known across the cultivation world for your beauty, your virtue, your skill. You are priceless treasures, are you not? Should I not demand treasures in exchange for my help?”
Lan Wangji finally stirred. He had been silent until now, his expression unreadable, his posture rigid as stone. When he spoke, his voice was low, but it carried an unmistakable weight. “You mock us.”
Wei Wuxian’s gaze flicked to him, and for the briefest moment, his composure faltered. There was something about Lan Wangji’s piercing stare that unsettled even him. But he recovered quickly, his grin returning, sharper than before.
“Mock you? No, no, Hanguang-Jun. I am merely stating the truth. You and your brother are valuable. Perhaps more valuable than the entirety of Gusu Lan combined. If your clan is unwilling to part with its jewels, then you are welcome to try fighting the Wen Clan without me.”
“Enough of this madness!” Lan Qiren exploded, his fury breaking through his normally impenetrable restraint. “Immortal Wei, you are a disgrace to the cultivation world. If this is your price, we shall take our chances without you.”
Jin Guangshan leaned forward, his expression tense but calculating. “Lan Qiren, perhaps we should not be so hasty—”
“Do you dare entertain this?” Nie Mingjue snapped, rounding on Jin Guangshan. “This demand is an insult to every sect here. To treat human beings as possessions—have you no shame?”
“It is not my sect at stake,” Jin Guangshan replied smoothly, though his tone betrayed his discomfort. “But if the Lan sect refuses, we all suffer. We cannot defeat the Wen Clan without Immortal Wei’s power. Surely even you can see that.”
“Enough.” Wei Wuxian’s voice sliced through the growing cacophony, silencing everyone. He stood, his dark robes billowing like shadows in the candlelight. “You waste my time with your bickering. I do not care how you justify it to yourselves. Either you accept my terms, or you do not. The choice is yours. But make it quickly, for every moment you delay, the Wen Clan grows stronger.”
Lan Xichen rose to his feet, his movements deliberate, composed. “Immortal Wei,” he said, bowing slightly, “you have given us much to consider. May we request three days to deliberate?”
Wei Wuxian inclined his head, his smirk returning. “Three days, Zewu-Jun. But no more. After that, I will take your silence as refusal.”
With that, he turned and strode toward the exit, his steps unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. At the threshold, he paused, glancing back at the stunned assembly.
“Oh,” he added casually, “and if you do agree, I suggest you bring them to me personally. I’d like to see the look on Lan Qiren’s face when he hands them over.”
He disappeared into the night, leaving a stunned, simmering silence in his wake.
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In the aftermath
The silence held for several moments, broken only by the crackle of the lanterns. Finally, Nie Mingjue slammed his fist on the table again, his anger boiling over. “We cannot agree to this,” he growled. “Lan Xichen, say something. Surely you won’t allow your sect to entertain this insanity.”
Lan Xichen’s expression was unreadable, his mind clearly racing. “It is not a matter of what I will allow, Nie-xiong,” he said quietly. “This decision lies with the elders of the Lan sect.”
Lan Qiren shook his head vehemently. “No! We cannot—”
“We may have no choice,” Lan Xichen interjected, his tone pained. “If Immortal Wei refuses to fight, we lose the war. And if we lose the war, Gusu Lan will fall, along with the rest of us.”
Nie Mingjue turned to Lan Wangji, his expression pleading. “Wangji, surely you see reason. Say something.”
Lan Wangji remained silent for a long moment, his gaze distant. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “If it is the sect’s will, I will abide by it.”
“No!” Nie Mingjue turned back to Lan Qiren, his voice rising. “You cannot allow this. You cannot—”
“Enough, Nie Mingjue,” Lan Qiren snapped, his composure fraying. “Do you think I wish for this? Do you think I will surrender my nephews so easily? But Wei Wuxian’s words are not empty. Without him, we cannot win. And if we cannot win…”
The room fell silent once more. The weight of the decision pressed down on everyone like a suffocating shroud.
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Wei Wuxian, walking away from the grand hall, allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. He did not expect the Lan Clan to agree; he had made the demand precisely because he thought they would refuse. But if they were desperate enough, perhaps they would surprise him. Either way, he had made his point: they needed him more than he needed them.
“Let them squirm,” he muttered to himself, disappearing into the shadows of the night.