Did anyone ask for the Untamed AU where Wei Wuxian came back to life sixteen years later only to hear the tragic story, from Lan disciples at Mo’s Manor, how Lan Wangji had been whipped to death for defending the Yiling Patriarch? No. Did that stop me? No.
Wei Wuxian had a song on his lips, as he traveled, perched on the back of the stolen donkey. He’d named her Little Apple, on a whim. He, himself, had been named Wei Ying, by his mother - probably also on a whim - and lived up to that name most of his days. So, a song on his lips, on the road back to Cloud Recesses.
A song on his lips, and murder, in his heart.
Murder, or the promise thereof, also by his side. Partly, it seemed, thanks to that aforementioned song. He certainly hadn’t expected that, but he’d welcomed it, and it hadn’t taken more than a day to figure out what had rendered Wen Ning in that mindless state, and how to reverse it. He had those nails tucked in his belt, and if he ever figured out where they came from, he’d put them right back.
“Wh-What - what is the plan, Master Wei?” Wen Ning asked him softly, walking with the donkey’s harness in his hand, as they marched on Cloud Recesses.
“It’s simple,” Wei Wuxian told him, removing the flute from his lips, briefly. “I’ll give the Lan the opportunity to explain themselves.”
Wen Ning contemplated this. “Is there an explanation?”
“Nothing springs to mind. But still, everyone should have a chance to explain themselves, before judgement is passed on them irrevocably, don’t you think?”
Wen Ning hmmed agreement. “What then?”
Wei Wuxian twisted back, to look at the army of fierce corpses trundling behind them, following the dark call of the Yiling Patriarch’s flute. “The Lan are very fond of rules, and discipline. So,” - he lifted the flute back to his lips, and before he started to play again, he breathed out - “I will give them discipline.”
They’d had enough warning to know what was coming; not nearly enough to ward against it. Fierce corpses walked straight through Caiyu Town, following the haunting melody of the ghost flute and the red-eyed devil who played it, with resentment streaming behind him like a bundle of black ribbons in the wind. They shuddered, at the sight of the Ghost General, skin as pale as the underbelly of a fish, eyes as black as onyx, leading the slow, but inexorable tide of doom up the mountain.
No one in Caiyu Town tried to stop them. No one dared. The dead marched through, leaving almost no mark, and only the echoes of the flute, and the footprints of the army’s feet in the dust, made it clear that this army was not just some haunting of ghosts.
They’d had enough time to anticipate. They did try to ward.
Their wards fell instantly, against the Yiling Patriarch’s dark tricks.
Cloud Recesses had gathered every one of their cultivators of age, near the mountain entrance. They’d hoped that perhaps the breach could be limited to just that one pass, but then the wider wards had fallen - a shock reverberating through the whole of them - and then the corpse bodies started crawling up across the mountain, as well as filing through the main entrance.
They weren’t….doing anything yet. Simply assembling. One brave child started to draw an arrow, but Sect Leader Lan, of all people, reached out and stopped her hand.
“Not yet,” Lan Xichen said, quietly. “One arrow won’t - it won’t stop the snowfall, but it could cause an avalanche. No one is to move before I speak.”
And then the Yiling Patriarch and his pet corpse emerged from the crowd of the silent, motionless dead, gliding through them like the wind in the trees. Wei Wuxian walked until he was barely fifteen feet from Sect Leader Lan, Wen Ning as close on his heels as a dog with its master.
Sect Leader Lan surprised those closest to him, when he said, “Master Wei,” and bowed, shallowly.
Wei Wuxian surprised them all even more, by making a sarcastic half-bow back. “Where are they?”
“Secured,” Lan Xichen said, “where you will not find them.”
“You think so?” Wei Wuxian said, amused. “I will tear this place to pieces until I find them. It’s not the Cold Springs Cave, is it? We both know I know my way there.”
Lan Xichen smiled, thinly. “Of course not, Master Wei.”
“It wasn’t a question, Sect Leader Lan. You can produce them.”
“If you won’t....”. Wei Wuxian stepped back, and started to laugh. “Lan Xichen, can you imagine the consequences of your defiance? I have killed thousands of cultivators, gleefully! I killed my own sister! I murdered her husband! I hear it whispered in tap rooms that I did that out of jealousy, that my feelings towards her were impure; that I, the devil, murdered him when he fended off my wicked advances. I am evil! No one can judge evil like the Lan. Bring me the Lan elders, for I wish to see them. And if you won’t - ” he twitched a finger.
The Ghost General threw back his head, and screamed, and every living person besides Wei Wuxian shuddered.
“—if you won’t, I will take this place apart stone by fucking stone, until I find them. I won’t be gentle.” Wei Wuxian stared at him, implacable. “Bring the Lan elders to me. They killed Lan Zhan. I’m going to kill them.”
“Is there anything I can say, that will stop you?”
“Tell me that Lan Zhan is alive and well,” Wei Wuxian said. “Tell me that. Tell me his own clan didn’t have him whipped to death for defying them. For protecting what he thought was left of me. Tell me that it wasn’t true.”
Lan Xichen closed his eyes. “I can’t.”
“Then get out of my way,” Wei Wuxian snarled, and brought up his flute, in a snarling whistle, and hell rained down on Cloud Recesses.
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