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fandomweekly2022-09-20 06:05 am
curiosity) wrote in fandomweekly2022-09-20 06:05 am
Entry tags:
[#050] Some Solution (MDZS)
.
Theme Prompt: #050 - Blaze of Glory
Title: Some Solution
Fandom: MDZS
Rating/Warnings: Mature / Major Character Death / Blood & Gore
Bonus: Nope.
Word Count: 1,000 words.
Summary: Canon AU. Wei Wuxian has found a way to save everyone. Almost everyone.
This fic uses names and titles of the major players. Titles were given during the war and represents the respect or infamy they hold in the eyes of cultivators.
Wei Ying/Wuxian - Yiling Laozu (Yiling Patriarch)
Lan Wangji - Hanguang Jun (Light Bearing Lord)
Lan Xichen - Zewu Jun (Lord of Munificent Waters)
Jin Guangyao - Lianfang Zun (Lord of the Subtle Fragrance)
Jiang Cheng/Wanyin - Sandu Shengshou (Three Poison Master)
shidi means younger martial brother.
jianghu is the world (society/politics/culture) of cultivators
Wei Wuxian inscribed the talisman with a mix of ink, his own blood and the brackish, blood-hued water from the cave’s pool. There wasn’t enough time to be overly particular. Even now, he could hear the clash of swords and shouting cultivators as they advanced on his cave. His army of fierce corpses wouldn’t last much longer.
Thankfully, the rescued remnants of the Wen Sect were long gone. By now they were settling into their new homes in Yunmeng. Jiang Cheng had promised them a small town, freshly rebuilt from the ashes of war. Wei Wuxian trusted his former shidi to fulfill that promise.
Wei Wuxian was about to keep his own promise. He was going to destroy the Yin Tiger Tally before the Jin could claim it. Even if it killed him. Which it probably would. Wei Wuxian didn’t mind.
It had taken nearly a year to complete the talisman that had a reasonable chance of doing the job without blowing all of Yiling to smoke and cinder. Damaging the town was out of the question. The Burial Mounds had caused enough grief without destroying the livelihoods of those who had survived this hellish place and the war with Qishan.
If Wei Wuxian considered himself acceptable collateral damage, that was something he hadn’t told Jiang Cheng when making promises. The process of destroying the greatest threat to cultivation might also ended his life, true, but Wei Wuxian figured it was fitting reparations for the misery he’d brought to Jiang Cheng. In time, his precious shidi would forgive him.
The clamor of battle came closer. One by one, the sparks in Wei Wuxian’s consciousness that were the corpses he’d raised, winked out like dying stars. From a thousand to five hundred to fifty.
His loyal army was being mowed down by blood-thirsty cultivators much faster than he’d expected. Wei Wuxian wondered what had gotten the jianghu stirred up against him this time. There were too many political machinations he didn’t care about, too many glory hounds among the ranks of his peers to guess.
It didn’t matter anyway. Wei Wuxian lay the final stroke of his brush and sagged, breathing a sigh of relief. No stopping things now.
He pulled the Yin Tiger Tally from his ragged robes, laying it in the center. The bit of worked metal pulsed, releasing black vapor. Angry, beseeching, despairing, vengeful voices boiled out; all the spirits this bit of evil had absorbed were demanding action.
Wei Wuxian made a fresh cut on both palms of both hands and made a fist to get the blood flowing. When it began to run down his arms, he gathered every scrap of energy he had.
A breath of fresh air flowed through the cave. He took a greedy breath of untainted air.
“Wei Ying.”
Horror lanced through Wei Wuxian but it was too late. His hands slammed against the stone. The talisman activated. A roar of eldritch red rose up from the blood-painted stone. Shrill screams tore from the Yin Tiger Tally as the air warped around it, seeming to contract.
“I’m so sorry,” Wei Wuxian whispered.
The explosion obliterated the cave, collapsing the mountain down on itself. Particles of stone no bigger than grains of sand filled in the blood pool, packed into every crack and crevice of the Demon Subdue Palace. As the last of the dust settled, the second part of the talisman activated.
Sand, dust, stone. In an instant, it all solidified into stone stronger than diamond, resonating with every protective sigil Wei Wuxian had known. There was no more Demon Subdue Cave. No more Yin Tiger Tally. No more Yiling Laozu, either.
Hundreds of cultivators stood in the clearing that had once housed a small, squalid village. Swords down, bravado fled, they stared at the solid stone cliff that had replaced the demon’s lair.
Lan Xichen looked around, praying. “Wangji!” He raised his voice to be heard over the frightened mutters. “Wangji!”
“Did the Yiling Laozu slay Hanguang Jun?” Of course it was Sect Leader Yao who spoke first.
Sect Leader Ouyang lowered his sword, peering into their murky surroundings. “He’s gone? Hanguang Jun is gone?”
Lan Xichen met Jin Guangyao’s eyes across the clearing, feeling the welling sympathy he saw there like a punch to the gut. Wangji gone? It couldn’t be possible.
“What’s that?”
One bold Jiang disciple stepped closer to the newly solidified cliff. They stared intently at the roiling shadows, like a confused thunder cloud, where the cliff face met the tainted dirt of the clearing.
Sandu Shengshou stepped up beside his disciple and then took one more step closer to the coils of energy. He raised his fist, the lightning whip Zidian springing to life and unfurling in the air over the shadows, dispersing the miasma.
There, in a ball of torn robes and disheveled hair, was Hanguang Jun. Sect Leader Jiang checked his pulse and meridians as Lan Xichen rushed forward.
“He’s alive, Zewu Jun.” Sect Leader Jiang’s face was an unreadable mask.
Lan Xichen took his brother up in his arms and gathered the Lan disciples with a look. They departed in silence, cultivators parting for them like a monsoon wind parting waving grasses.
“Then did Hanguang Jun slay the Yiling Laozu?” Sect Leader Yao looked around. “That Wei Wuxian wasn’t able to withstand Hanguang Jun!”
“We don’t know what happened here,” Lianfang Zun demurred, moving closer to the cliff, barely. “Search the area,” he announced. “Let us be sure there is no more evil here.”
“There will always be evil here,” one voice shouted, from the middle of the crowd. “It’s the Burial Mounds.”
“No more actionable evil, then,” Lianfang Zun smiled. “Scour the clearing and the trees beyond. Any treasure you find is, of course, yours to claim.”
Jiang Cheng ignored all of the other cultivators. He stared into the stone. Faintly, through the layers of smokey crystal, he thought he saw the shape of a man, his hand outstretched.
Theme Prompt: #050 - Blaze of Glory
Title: Some Solution
Fandom: MDZS
Rating/Warnings: Mature / Major Character Death / Blood & Gore
Bonus: Nope.
Word Count: 1,000 words.
Summary: Canon AU. Wei Wuxian has found a way to save everyone. Almost everyone.
This fic uses names and titles of the major players. Titles were given during the war and represents the respect or infamy they hold in the eyes of cultivators.
Wei Ying/Wuxian - Yiling Laozu (Yiling Patriarch)
Lan Wangji - Hanguang Jun (Light Bearing Lord)
Lan Xichen - Zewu Jun (Lord of Munificent Waters)
Jin Guangyao - Lianfang Zun (Lord of the Subtle Fragrance)
Jiang Cheng/Wanyin - Sandu Shengshou (Three Poison Master)
shidi means younger martial brother.
jianghu is the world (society/politics/culture) of cultivators
Wei Wuxian inscribed the talisman with a mix of ink, his own blood and the brackish, blood-hued water from the cave’s pool. There wasn’t enough time to be overly particular. Even now, he could hear the clash of swords and shouting cultivators as they advanced on his cave. His army of fierce corpses wouldn’t last much longer.
Thankfully, the rescued remnants of the Wen Sect were long gone. By now they were settling into their new homes in Yunmeng. Jiang Cheng had promised them a small town, freshly rebuilt from the ashes of war. Wei Wuxian trusted his former shidi to fulfill that promise.
Wei Wuxian was about to keep his own promise. He was going to destroy the Yin Tiger Tally before the Jin could claim it. Even if it killed him. Which it probably would. Wei Wuxian didn’t mind.
It had taken nearly a year to complete the talisman that had a reasonable chance of doing the job without blowing all of Yiling to smoke and cinder. Damaging the town was out of the question. The Burial Mounds had caused enough grief without destroying the livelihoods of those who had survived this hellish place and the war with Qishan.
If Wei Wuxian considered himself acceptable collateral damage, that was something he hadn’t told Jiang Cheng when making promises. The process of destroying the greatest threat to cultivation might also ended his life, true, but Wei Wuxian figured it was fitting reparations for the misery he’d brought to Jiang Cheng. In time, his precious shidi would forgive him.
The clamor of battle came closer. One by one, the sparks in Wei Wuxian’s consciousness that were the corpses he’d raised, winked out like dying stars. From a thousand to five hundred to fifty.
His loyal army was being mowed down by blood-thirsty cultivators much faster than he’d expected. Wei Wuxian wondered what had gotten the jianghu stirred up against him this time. There were too many political machinations he didn’t care about, too many glory hounds among the ranks of his peers to guess.
It didn’t matter anyway. Wei Wuxian lay the final stroke of his brush and sagged, breathing a sigh of relief. No stopping things now.
He pulled the Yin Tiger Tally from his ragged robes, laying it in the center. The bit of worked metal pulsed, releasing black vapor. Angry, beseeching, despairing, vengeful voices boiled out; all the spirits this bit of evil had absorbed were demanding action.
Wei Wuxian made a fresh cut on both palms of both hands and made a fist to get the blood flowing. When it began to run down his arms, he gathered every scrap of energy he had.
A breath of fresh air flowed through the cave. He took a greedy breath of untainted air.
“Wei Ying.”
Horror lanced through Wei Wuxian but it was too late. His hands slammed against the stone. The talisman activated. A roar of eldritch red rose up from the blood-painted stone. Shrill screams tore from the Yin Tiger Tally as the air warped around it, seeming to contract.
“I’m so sorry,” Wei Wuxian whispered.
The explosion obliterated the cave, collapsing the mountain down on itself. Particles of stone no bigger than grains of sand filled in the blood pool, packed into every crack and crevice of the Demon Subdue Palace. As the last of the dust settled, the second part of the talisman activated.
Sand, dust, stone. In an instant, it all solidified into stone stronger than diamond, resonating with every protective sigil Wei Wuxian had known. There was no more Demon Subdue Cave. No more Yin Tiger Tally. No more Yiling Laozu, either.
Hundreds of cultivators stood in the clearing that had once housed a small, squalid village. Swords down, bravado fled, they stared at the solid stone cliff that had replaced the demon’s lair.
Lan Xichen looked around, praying. “Wangji!” He raised his voice to be heard over the frightened mutters. “Wangji!”
“Did the Yiling Laozu slay Hanguang Jun?” Of course it was Sect Leader Yao who spoke first.
Sect Leader Ouyang lowered his sword, peering into their murky surroundings. “He’s gone? Hanguang Jun is gone?”
Lan Xichen met Jin Guangyao’s eyes across the clearing, feeling the welling sympathy he saw there like a punch to the gut. Wangji gone? It couldn’t be possible.
“What’s that?”
One bold Jiang disciple stepped closer to the newly solidified cliff. They stared intently at the roiling shadows, like a confused thunder cloud, where the cliff face met the tainted dirt of the clearing.
Sandu Shengshou stepped up beside his disciple and then took one more step closer to the coils of energy. He raised his fist, the lightning whip Zidian springing to life and unfurling in the air over the shadows, dispersing the miasma.
There, in a ball of torn robes and disheveled hair, was Hanguang Jun. Sect Leader Jiang checked his pulse and meridians as Lan Xichen rushed forward.
“He’s alive, Zewu Jun.” Sect Leader Jiang’s face was an unreadable mask.
Lan Xichen took his brother up in his arms and gathered the Lan disciples with a look. They departed in silence, cultivators parting for them like a monsoon wind parting waving grasses.
“Then did Hanguang Jun slay the Yiling Laozu?” Sect Leader Yao looked around. “That Wei Wuxian wasn’t able to withstand Hanguang Jun!”
“We don’t know what happened here,” Lianfang Zun demurred, moving closer to the cliff, barely. “Search the area,” he announced. “Let us be sure there is no more evil here.”
“There will always be evil here,” one voice shouted, from the middle of the crowd. “It’s the Burial Mounds.”
“No more actionable evil, then,” Lianfang Zun smiled. “Scour the clearing and the trees beyond. Any treasure you find is, of course, yours to claim.”
Jiang Cheng ignored all of the other cultivators. He stared into the stone. Faintly, through the layers of smokey crystal, he thought he saw the shape of a man, his hand outstretched.