Chapter Text
It was a mistake.
15 years ago the unsuspecting student Jiang Cheng walked into a tomb in Gusu which held a dark secret of this pristine clan that the cultivation world look highly upon, their ancestor was a ferocious and vengeful spirit that they worship unbeknownst of its true identity. The Lan's 4,000 rules were made so that their significant cultivation technique would feed the energy of this hungry spirit, and those who fully mastered it were the lambs of sacrifice to the teeth of the ghost.
Luckily, no maybe it wasn't so lucky, Jiang Cheng made with out unscathed but everytime he talked about it to a few students, those students would go missing and eventually killed a gruesome death - it was a curse no one could ever know but him. It was even worse for the innocent and already guilt-stricken Jiang, not even a few weeks, he began hearing spirits that would come to him during classes whispering that the next sect leader was the one the Lan's vengeful ancestor was going to possess. It sounded ridiculous, too ridiculous that when he graduated and left Gusu for good, he never looked back.
But now the war was over, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have their happy ending, he was in seclusion with the same chagrined and despondent energy he had back then. While the others were busy rebuilding, celebrating, and reminiscing their clans - here he was, on the floor with his eyes on the ceiling, he couldn't even lift a finger if he tried to.
His proud and brave facade was gone, this so-called 'brother', Wei Wuxian, who promised to stay beside the lone man - left him. That cultivator knew first hand how many people were aversed to stand beside Jiang Cheng, only he, since youth would even bother putting an arm around his shoulder and call him anything more than 'Jiang-gongzi' or 'that heir from the Jiang', he was finally someone special, at least someone that meant something.
But, of course, that was in the past.
Jiang Cheng couldn't lift a finger not because he hadn't ate all week, no, but because he was too arrogant for his own good. He fooled himself that he hated that Wei, he hated how all his life this body that waved Sandu and gave fear when he whipped Zidian, was from that golden core of his! All this time...all this time the fulfillment he thought he did by himself was actually from someone else.
With the help of one of his disciples, he conjured a forbidden spell that tore his core grotesquely and put it in a bag as if it was an organ from the body. With that, that same disciple woddled down and settled it inside Wei Wuxian while he was somewhere.
He returned that bloody core back to him.
Even the Jiang disciples who were now fully recovered from their injuries worried about their sect leader's condition, it wasn't a rumor anymore what he did the other night - yes. The once feared Sandu-shengshou was reduced to a vegetable that was swinging the rope between life and death. Yet, he refused to see anyone not even his nephew.
During these days he spent alone, he'd hear a few whispers from the roaming disciples outside his doors along the lines of "Zewu-jun is also in seclusion" to "Gusu is becoming colder and colder" as a proud man with homophobic tendencies, Jiang Cheng really couldn't care less for the other person.
Zewu-jun had a relation with Jin Guangyao, whether it was romantic or platonic, he really shouldn't care. But seeing it in front of him back then was disgusting.
But what made him sat up was this sentence: "Gusu disciples are running away. Their fellow brethren were turning into vengeful spirits."
Jiang Cheng already had an ashen complexion, his robes that were usually clean and devoid of crevices were dirty and wrinkled. If someone would see him right now, one would say a beggar would look better compared to him. But he didn't care, he threw the sliding door open with a BANG and staggered.
A proud man as he was, he must've thought that after days of not using his legs, he could act normal and walk again. No, he was wrong. His deregatory motto of 'I'll break your legs' came crashing to him.
"Zongzhu!" The two roaming disciples holding the lanterns called out, helping this badly looking and powerfully rotting odor of a man up.
The sect leader didn't bat an eye on the two of them, he merely adjusted his footing and coughed out. The first thing the sect leader spat wasn't an explanation of his abscense, a powerful speech of hope, not even a curse -- It was an order: "Take me to Gusu, now!"
He had no time to be glad that despite how weak he was, how revolting he smelled, and how ugly he looked, these teenagers still followed him without hesitation. They dropped their lanterns and replaced it with swords, ordered one of the remaining carriages free from the effects of war and a few other disciples to come. However, as they were loading their bodies into the back, Jiang Cheng yelled in a hoarse cry, "No one will come with me, everyone stay here!"
One of the disciples looked at the ready soldiers with their swords. It felt horrible that they would allow their sick and tired sect leader to leave. What would they do if he died? There was no one else to teach them. God only knows where they could go now, after all, most of the Jiang disciples came Frome homeless orphans and beggars who had nothing and no one. "B-but Zongzhu...they might be dangerous, they're demonic entities--"
"Did you hear me or are your ears just for decoration?!" Despite them not seeing the grimy face of the Jiang, they dropped their hands from the handle of their swords and stared at each other thoughtlessly. They couldn't fight their sect leader's orders.
And with that, the hooves of the horse galloped out of the woods of Yunmeng with the disciples watching from behind with their swords and lanterns like an abandoned box of puppies. Their parent left them as they ran off to the wilderness with not even a sword in hand.