Return of The Yiling Laozu

Attempt the Impossible

The halls of the Lanshi compound were quiet, their serenity a mockery of the rage roaring in Wei Wuxian’s chest. His vision pulsed red, veins laced with the dark hum of resentment as he stormed past rows of disciples who barely had time to react before he sent them sprawling with a flick of his sleeve.

The heavy doors of the Elders’ chamber slammed open, wood splintering as Wei Wuxian strode inside, his energy a violent storm crackling against the delicate suppression wards woven into the room.

The Elders, cloaked in pristine white, barely flinched.

"How dare you." His voice was ice, slicing through the silence. "You call yourselves righteous, yet you let your own flesh and blood rot in the dark, beaten and forgotten!"

Lan Qiren regarded him impassively. "Wei Wuxian." The name left his lips like something unclean. "I guess you have been to Jingshi. This isn't your place."

Wei Wuxian laughed, sharp and cold. "Not my place? I had no place long before you drove Lan Zhan into ruin! But that broken man lying in Jingshi, that's not his place either." His fingers twitched, black energy licking at his nails like fire. "He was your pride, wasn’t he? The perfect Second Jade—until he chose me. Until he defied you." His voice lowered, lethal. "And for that, you what... broke him."

Silence.

Then, a sigh.

"It was his choice," another Elder spoke, aged voice heavy with something unreadable. "He knew the consequences."

Wei Wuxian snarled. "Did he also choose to lose his mind?"

A shift. A flicker of discomfort in their expressions.

Lan Qiren folded his hands. "Lan Wangji’s punishment ended three years ago. He was sentenced to self-reflection. What he did with that time was his own will. Instead of focusing on healing and recuperation he overexerted himself to the point where he would bleed not just from his seven orifices but from the thirty three whip wounds on his back as well. It was his choice and we have tried our best to stop him but ypu can't stop inevitability."

Wei Wuxian stilled. "What do you mean?"

It was Lan Xichen who finally spoke.

"He brought you back."

The words landed like a blow.

Wei Wuxian turned sharply, eyes locking onto the man who once stood as a brother to Lan Wangji. Lan Xichen's face was drawn, his usual warmth extinguished, replaced by something grim and weary.

"What?"

Lan Xichen exhaled. "For three years, he searched for a way. His grief—his love for you was… unshakable. He studied texts no Lan should ever touch. He let resentment fester in his veins, in his soul. And when he finally succeeded…" Lan Xichen’s voice faltered, then steadied. "The cost was his sanity."

Wei Wuxian’s breath turned shallow.

His mind spun back to the way Lan Wangji had clung to him in the Jingshi, the raw desperation in his kiss, the way his eyes—his golden, once-unshakable eyes—held nothing but the fragile light of a boy who had waited too long for something that would never return.

"Just as he waited for his mother."

Wei Wuxian’s fingers curled.

The resentment. The erratic flickers of consciousness. The way his golden core had felt wrong beneath his fingertips.

Lan Wangji had torn himself apart to bring him back.

Wei Wuxian’s hands trembled. "Lan Zhan… you fool."