The winds of the aftermath whispered through the ruins of Nightless City. The battlefield, once alive with the clash of blades and the cries of warriors, was now an eerie silence. Smoke curled into the sky, the remnants of destruction littering the ground. Lan Wangji stood at the center, golden eyes scanning the devastation, though he barely saw it. His mind was elsewhere, focused on a single thought that had consumed him since the battle's conclusion.
Wei Wuxian is not dead.
The thought repeated like a mantra, one that refused to leave him. Despite the chaos, the broken bodies, and the countless lives lost, Lan Wangji could not bring himself to believe the lies that were spreading across the cultivation world. Wei Wuxian was still alive. He had to be. The fleeting glimpse he'd caught of him—swallowed by the collapsing mountain, lost in the chaos of war—was not the end. Not for someone as unyielding, as stubborn, as Wei Wuxian.
Lan Wangji's hand tightened around Bichen's hilt, his knuckles white. His thoughts wandered briefly to his return to Gusu. The rules of his sect, the expectations that his elders placed on him, demanded he leave the wreckage behind and return to the path of duty. But his heart... his heart rebelled. It had always been duty, always been control. But this—this feeling for Wei Wuxian, the unspoken bond, the connection that neither time nor distance could sever—it demanded more.
And so, he had turned his back on his sect's orders and slipped into the shadows, determined to find him, to ensure that Wei Wuxian had not slipped through his fingers forever. He had felt it when he saw him fall, a deep ache within his chest that seemed to pierce straight through to his very soul. But he had seen Wei Wuxian. He had seen those familiar, mischievous eyes.
The wind ruffled his white robes, and for a moment, Lan Wangji closed his eyes. The world had shifted. The consequences of their actions, the political upheaval that was sure to follow, and the threat of resentment energy consuming Wei Wuxian... it all weighed on him. But none of that mattered in the moment. What mattered now was finding him.
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Lan Wangji's journey took him across the desolate remnants of the city. Every step was calculated, measured. His movements were precise, as always, but today there was an uncharacteristic urgency to them. He ignored the flash of colors around him, the way his heart seemed to beat louder with every moment that passed. The remnants of resentment energy in the air clung to his skin, but Lan Wangji didn't care. He had to find Wei Wuxian.
As he moved deeper into the ruins, the stench of blood and sulfur filled the air. The ground was uneven, cracked and shattered by the forces that had torn through the city. The oppressive silence hung heavy in the air. There was no sound of life—no bird song, no wind. Just the heavy burden of destruction.
Then, beneath the ruin of a pillar, he found it. A flicker of movement, weak but unmistakable. His heart leaped in his chest.
Wei Wuxian.
Lan Wangji's breath caught in his throat. Wei Wuxian lay among the debris, his body twisted in an unnatural position, his clothes tattered and stained with blood. His once-vibrant eyes were closed, his breath shallow. But there was no mistaking it—he was alive.
Wei Wuxian's chest rose and fell, each breath slow and labored, but there was no doubt. The storm within Lan Wangji's chest quieted, replaced by a new kind of urgency. Kneeling beside him, Lan Wangji placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice low and steady. "Wei Ying."
Wei Wuxian's body stiffened at the sound of his name, and then, his eyes fluttered open. There was confusion in them, a flicker of recognition, and then a sharp, mischievous glint. "Lan Zhan?" His voice was barely a whisper, rough and weak, but there was a playful edge that still managed to cut through the haze of exhaustion.
Lan Wangji's heart clenched at the sight of him, battered but not broken. He had found him, and that was all that mattered. He reached forward, gently lifting Wei Wuxian into his arms, careful not to disturb his injured form.
"You shouldn't move," Lan Wangji said, his tone softer than usual. His hands were steady as he supported Wei Wuxian's body, feeling the heat of his feverish skin. "You need to rest."
Wei Wuxian managed a weak grin, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Rest? I've always been better at running than resting, Lan Zhan. You know that."
Despite the gravity of the situation, Lan Wangji felt the corners of his lips twitch in response. He didn't know what to say to that, so instead, he simply adjusted his grip on Wei Wuxian, holding him closer.
There was no more time for words. He could feel the dark energy swirling around Wei Wuxian, a dangerous force that was threatening to consume him. Resentment. The very thing that had caused so much havoc in the past. The thing that had almost taken his life. Lan Wangji would not let that happen again.
Carefully, he rose to his feet, cradling Wei Wuxian as though he were the most fragile thing in the world. The thought was absurd—Wei Wuxian was anything but fragile—but in this moment, Lan Wangji couldn't shake the overwhelming urge to protect him.
"We're leaving," Lan Wangji said, his voice firm. "You'll be safe now."
Wei Wuxian chuckled weakly. "Safe? With you?"
"Yes," Lan Wangji replied, his gaze intense. "You are."
The weight of the moment settled over them as Lan Wangji turned, moving swiftly through the ruins. He had made his decision. He would take Wei Wuxian away from here, away from the dangers that lurked in the shadows. Away from the cultivation world that had cast him aside. And together, they would find a way to heal.
But there was still much to be done. And as they left the wreckage of Nightless City behind, Lan Wangji couldn't help but wonder if they were walking into the unknown. Would the world accept their bond? Would Wei Wuxian ever truly find peace? Only time would tell.
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