#Cultivating immortality

[quotablefanfiction]

“Oh, really? Lan Zhan was so enamored of me and my rule breaking ways that all his anger was really just a front for him wanting to pin me down and have his wicked way with me?” Lan Wangji leaned in, his large hands sliding under Wei Wuxian’s inner robe, which was somehow already undone. “Mn. Wei Ying is very smart.” “Wait. What?! Lan Zhan! I was joking!”

Lan Zhan has been having thoughts for a while (chp. 41)

Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (AO3) Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed – Mature – Lan Zhan/Wei Wuxian #Alternate Universe #Canon Divergence #Canon-Typical Violence #Rogue Cultivator Wei Ying #Mutual Pining #Angst #BAMF Wei Ying #BAMF Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian low self-esteem #Happy Ending #Hurt/Comfort #Unreliable Narrator #Sect Wars happening #demonic cultivation descriptions in detail #Found family #First Time #Sex

“A weapon is not the same as a spouse, even if that weapon is powerful.” The words had barely left Wei Wuxian’s lips when he found himself slammed against the trunk of the nearest tree, Lan Wangji’s hands gripping painfully tight around his shoulders, practically lifting him from the ground.

“Wei Ying is not a weapon!” Lan Wangji bit out.

Wei Wuxian had said many things that had angered the illustrious Second Jade in the past. When he had been in Cloud Recesses as a youth, it had been Wei Wuxian’s favorite hobby. But he realized had never managed to truly enrage Lan Wangji with anything he had said until this moment.

- - - -

The Lan sect has been putting pressure on Lan Wangji to find a cultivation partner. They don’t like the one he chooses.

[lazycranberrydoodles]

english translation book 5 baby we are in the ‘people assuming kid form hua cheng is xie lian’s son’ era 🔥🔥🔥 / follow for more hualian silliness

[threepandas]

Bad End: Cultivation

The rope creaked softly, suffering under the weight it was not meant to bear, as it stretched out, seemlingly endless into the mist. This had once been a bridge. The entrance to this lonely place. Humble as it was, the simple rope bridge had once stood for time immemorial. A path of safety above Soul Eater mists below.

Terrible creatures and unspeakable monsters dwelled down there. Things that devoured. Even the mists themselves, were said to drive men mad. Cause hallucinations and aggression. Qi draining in nature. It was like a living thing that digested you slowly.

Unless, of course, you could escape.

Or, it was said, if you were like the legendary immortal who had founded this temple. HE had apparently just walked. Refused the mist's their hold on him. Then climbed the cliff face to this mountain top. I somewhat doubted that tale. But then again, staring down at the rolling mists... it seemed impossible that ANYONE could have ever survived them.

The bridge creaked on, in the soft breeze. There were days it's groans sounded like the cries of a beast in pain. Tortured. When the wind rattled and dragged at what remained of its form. Trying to pull it from it's post. Down, down, down to it's final end.

There was a boot print. Terrible and damning. Cracked, IMPRINTED, deep into the base of the pillar that once held up one side. Far away, the bridge must surely still be stable. Both pillars standing tall, like gaurds. Like brothers. But here?

One powerful kick.

And the bridge had disappeared out from underneath all those that stood upon it.

Everyday... every day I come. Every day I look upon this bridge. Upon the boot, a terrible sin imprinted into stone, and I tell myself I do not recognize the size of it. That my suspicions are wrong. My instincts surely lying. Because... because if I do not?

What can I do? What could I POSSIBLY hope to do? If my suspicions WERE correct? If in this place, lives a monster? I am not stronger them him. Without him, I would be utterly alone. He has insured I am all but dependant on him. Not teaching me how to cook nor clean, farm nor fight. All practical skills are lessons for another day. Forever another day.

Yet...

Yet, I MUST know.

I torture myself with this. The wondering. The questions I do not not ask, for fear he will not even bother hiding behind lies. I stare at the old, long dried blood that stains where the bridge once ended. The shimmering heavenly gold. Somehow... some horrified, gut wrenched, SCREAMING instinct... knows it to be the blood of Tree Fruit.

It is the blood of the unborn. Those that will never get the chance, now. They... they were not even apart of anyone's body. Were wholly seperate, dependent and their protectors for survival. Were FRUIT for God's sake. Just as I had been. Souls reborn, not from flesh, but clean and new, from a Divine Tree. Ascendant from some other place.

I don't know WHY they were taken from the Tree. Why I was. My memory is spotty. It was too soon. I had not forgotten yet. Was not READY yet. It should have been safest to stay there. Be born into the world. Yet... they were on this bridge, instead. Attacked. The blood of infants stains the stones and will never wash clean. I can not... I was still FRUIT, then.

I can not REMEMBER.

And so I come. Again and again, before this rope. That stretchs out into the mists. Above far more terrible things. And try to recall. Make sense of it this terrible thing before me. This bridge. A long, worn, straining rope. With old, well-worn wooden planks, weathered by the ages, that... that hang like bodies.

Strung up in an endless row.

That whisper as they clack and groan with suffering in the wind, "A crime. A crime. Great evil was committed here!"

I tell myself... like a child hiding from monsters they KNOW are real. Trembling and blood soaked, terrified, as they crawl as far back into some small dark place as they can... I... I do not want to compare the boot print in that stone to Lei's. That they would be different sizes, even if I did.

I do not convince myself.

I never do.

"Shimei, this disciple wonderd where you were..." calls out a familiar voice. Deep in the way dangerous waters are deep. Smooth and placid at the surface. With something deadly I can not see, far, far below. "This one has found you at the bridge again. What captivates you so? You missed your morning snack. Should be on your way to early morning meditations."

My smile is more of a grimace, as I turn.

There are days... when forgetting is easy. When the tranquility of this place seeps itself into my bones. The comfort he deliberately arranges for me. The scheduled repetition. It is... trance-like.

Sitting with tea and snacks. Watching the early morning's sunlight dance off the distant mist. As birds wake and dew settles. The world hushed. Cup warm in my hand. Coat dropped over my shoulders. It is beautiful. The meditation garden is beautiful. EVERYTHING here is beautiful.

It is the fact that it is... empty, that bothers me.

This was not a temple built for two people. Remote as it must be in the world. The sect built this place for a reason. And each day that passes? I am more convinced that reason was to have a place to fall back too. The temple is lovely... but more then that? It is a FORTRESS.

Difficulty getting here is not even a fraction of the defens it holds.

So WHY?

WHY are there only two people here?

I nod, stepping towards my "shixong" as he insists I call him, dispite there being just the two of us. His hand reaching out to take my arm, guide me. I no longer need help navigating these halls. But he does not stop. Clings to his excuses to coddle and touch. It is a fight I can not win. I pick my battles. But, before his hand reaches my sleeve. Knife!

A throwing knife, shrieks near silent through the air as it cuts between us. Nearly removing Lei's fingers as it does. I jerk away, startled. He whips around towards the bridge.

"GET AWAY FROM THAT CHILD!"

The voice that roars that command has the distinct rasp of old age. Sure enough, a figure in flowing robes surges forward from the mist, running light as a feather across the single rope that remains of the bridge. Long white hair and beard. A wrinkled face, more accustomed to smiling, now turned into a fierce and determined scowl. The robes of a Grand Master.

There are a handful of warriors following him.

But the one that I can not look away from... it's... it's like looking through the lense of a half forgotten dream. Blurred by angles all wrong. But oh... oh how could I forget that face? The one that stares at me with such fierce and fearful determination?

...Shijie?

More then an older sister, less then a mother. Whisperd promises, muffled by liquid, from long ago. I know that face. KNEW it. It once smiled down at me, as I grew upon my branch, and promised we would be family. Loved me. Beautiful and patient, as she whispered about all the wonders of world.

I was...

Oh.

I was supposed to go with HER.

Be raised by HER. A little sister, a daughter, someone she could guide and grow with. My memories struggle to come together, but faced with familiar faces? They TRY. Especially as power begins to surge around me. Terrible and familiar. The beginnings of a fight.

Someone on my branch. Not my sister. Pale as morning mist and just as untouchable. He seemed lonely. I was lonely. Far from other Fruit, an awkward thing, high up, and on an old twisting branch. That had missed all nipping and cultivation by being accidentally hidden by the leaves surrounding it. The fruit was supposed to grow lower to the ground, where it could be watched. Safe.

But I happened anyway.

And I was alone.

No others to spend my time with. No disciples to come and care for me, day to day. So when the mist man came? I clumsily... reached out. Pat pat. There, there. I'm here, "dude". (I... can not remember what that word meant. But I know I knew it. It was friendly, I think.)

He was surprised to find me, up there.

I don't not think he told anyone.

I...I think he was supposed too?

But it did not matter in the end. Someone else found his hiding spot. Found me. There was much shouting and alarm. Elders, I think. Doctors, to insure I was well. Great relief, that I was a hardly little thing, developing as I should. After that? I had constant visitors. None that seemed very interesting... until... until my Shijie.

They were looking, I think, through interested parties for a match. Who would adopt me. Then there was softness. Sweet, golden days. The mist man visited. Anger from him? Not at me. Displeased. Covetous? I did not understand. Something wrong was growing but I was unborn... did not have a name yet for the sensation.

Just that is was...Dark.

Then it was night time. A beautiful moon through the branches. Smoke, black and terrifying. Screaming and the clash of swords. Unbearable heat, climbing and climbing. Lights blinking out. Dying? Were... were they dying? The great Tree, divine and holy, groaning in agony. Wood popping from heat. Splintering from blows.

Feet upon my branch. Running, running, running. Falling too their knees. Swordsman's hands. Bloody, wrong, not my shijie. Where is my shijie? Sister! SISTER?! I am being pulled. No. No, it is not time. It is too soon. The Fruit is not ready.

The hands do not care.

I am torn out by the roots.

Where the Tree should be... is nothing. I SCREAM. It hurts! A void. The ocean of life gone, gone, GONE! Already I am starving. Destabilizing. Dying again. Scared! Please! I am-!

A hand wraps around the raw nerves of my roots. They are wrong. I know them, but they are WRONG. Where is shijie? Sister... SISTER! Please!! Energy floods back in, as though it never stopped. But... but it is not clean. Like brackish water after so long in clear springs, I choke as I try to adjust.

Moving.

Running.

Where is the Divine Tree? I want to go home.

Others join. Burned. Bleeding. They have Fruit too. I have never been so close to others. They sound nervous too. Scared. But they have their family. Why do I not? There is some plan. A bridge that goes on and on. Below us are terrible things. They are talking? The end in sight.

"-viously you can't... -ep her, she's not your child. Y.. -eat thing protecting her th.. -ll be so relieved you have her child. N.. -all we have to... -ait out this..."

Something ugly is rising. Danger. DANGER. No, no, NO. STOP. Run! Bad thing is coming! I don't-! I can't-! Covetous, terrible, tar-like WRONG! Seeping up like festering! Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!!

The sound of a sword being drawn.

I am tucked close. Cradled like something precious. As a blade sings destruction through the air. A shocked and betrayed cry. Confusion. I can see horror on faces, feel terror from the other Fruit. Two of them are dead. CRUNCH. The bridge violently lists to the side, weight no longer equally supported.

Time seems to slow... as ancient metal slides free of stone.

Half those on the bridge are gone in an instant, as the floor swings out from below them like a trapdoor. Those that remain? Are the souls fast enough to grab the rail that still remains. The boards, as they fall. They hang above certain death, as their friends fall screaming in primal fear, to horrific death below.

How long can they hold on?

Especially with only one hand?

A few already lost their grip on their Fruit in the sudden shift. Can only stare in numb and mind blank horror, soul deep agony, as the bright little lights fall... and fall... and fall...

Inside my Fruit I SCREAM.

I do not remember after that. Only being born. It is a blur of trauma my mind must have refused to keep. D..Damn it. DAMN IT! I jerk away from Lei. I had known. I hadn't WANTED to know... but I had KNOWN.

The Grand Master attacks. His blade crashing like the might of a wrathful god against Lei's. Sending him sliding back. The master pressing his advantage, warriors rushing to fan out between the fighters and me.

Arms. Soft yet unimaginably powerful, the scent of tea and the medicinal flowers she proudly grew for the sect, I was pulled into an embrace. My head tucked against her neck. Arms bordering on too tight. As though I would disappear at any moment.

"Shimei.." my shijie whispered, a wounded sound. "This sister has you. We have come to rescue you. The traitor will never hurt you again. Come!"

This felt right. I nod. Follow her towards the bridge.

"Thief."

Lei's snarls. Never has there been an uglier, more venomous sound. One of the warriors, acting as a shield, dies preventing my sister from being speared through the heart from behind. Desperately, she scoops me up. Breaking into a sprint.

"Do you truely think you can take this one's Disciple from him? His WORLD!?" An unhinged laugh echoed along side the clash on blades. "There is NOWHERE you can hide her, that I will not find! She is MINE! Belongs with ME! You can run but there is NO WHERE you can hide!"

I cling to my sister as she jumps up on the rope, racing away from the gilded cage that was my only home. Over her shoulder, Lei is locked in combat. The ugly something I had always known was there, finally out in the air between us. Demonic energy spilled from him like radiation. Sickening and every bit as caustic. His eyes wild as they lock onto me.

"I'm going to BURN everything that gets in my way, my disciple." He croons, the grin spreading across his face a thing that will haunt me. "Just like before. NOTHING will keep you away from me. Nothing! I am going to hunt you down, drag you to ascension, then spend the rest of time making you MINE."

"And nothing will stop me, child. Not even you. Why?"

"Because I LOVE You."

[tbgkaru-woh]

Alternate paths

[sasukimimochi]

Wei Wuxian belted out a laugh as he was basically dragged over to the bed, however obediently sitting down upon the blood red blankets when prompted. "I see you've missed me. You know I had to go, though, they needed me." He smiled, wrapping his hand around the silky white ribbon in his husbands hair with practiced ease. He had seen this look many times on his husband while they were alive, and it was no less adorable to him to see what was essentially the jade pouting. He looked so upset, but it was just so cute!

He lifted Lan Wangji's face gently from where it had been buried in his chest, gave a kiss to his nose that had became somewhat pink from the rubbing, and leaned back with crescents for eyes. "Lan Zhan~! What's with all this pouting? I was only gone for a bit."

Lan Wangji huffed softly and leaned up to pepper the sun on the other's chest in kisses, not letting up one bit even as his husband giggled from the sensation traveling up his neck.

"I can't take you with me, you know that- Lan Zhan hahaha!" Wei Wuxian nuzzled against the angel in retort, but still ended up getting buried in the other's affections.

Here's the sketches i made for my friend who needed some gay to cheer up ✨ her favorite is COI so that's what we get today hehe [plus a couple bonuses] i like adding writing segments with my art as well so i whipped this up [maybe i'll use it in the fic one day if it fits the chapters i make for it]

I hope you guys like it!!

bonuses!

extra versions and the link to other coi art is under the cut! i really liked the sketches so i wanted to provide them without the color haha

the ribbon being held was personally requested by my friend so you have her to thank! lol actually the idea for this is hers to thank too cuz i wasn't sure what to do. she wanted the staring-into-each-other's-eyes thing hehe

her other ideas i was like they're great but i am a dying artist i can only give simple pleasures (i might try to write her other suggestions down the line tho cuz they were cute n very gay)

Check out more COI art or other AU's via my MDZS fanfiction masterpost. [There's a lot more art to check out so have fun!!]

Check out the original COI post however to get the most information about it, cuz that's where i write down a lot of character and AU information that i don't entail in my masterpost [cuz it'd get too big if i added all of it]

Don't repost/use/alter my work thank you! Can be used as icons with credit.

[oh-dameron]

Wei Wuxian dies. Lan Wangji mourns. Years pass. Trouble returns to the jianghu.

Wei Wuxian wakes up covered in blood, in a familiar array. It's Nie Huaisang's fault.

Lan Wangji finds him. They save the day. They marry and live happily. That's the end of the story, until:

Wei Wuxian dies in a night hunting accident. It was a trivial matter, easily dealt with until it very abruptly wasn't. Certainly no great battle worthy of song or fitting to end the Yiling Patriarch's second life.

Lan Wangji mourns. The grief is different this time; he's not wracked with might-have-beens and should-haves. Instead, one moment he held the whole world in his arms, the next it was torn away from him. It's shattering, how unfamiliar this pain feels when he once would have called himself accustomed to loss.

Years pass. Trouble returns to the jianghu.

The Unclean Realm is under seige, and Nie Huaisang genuinely does not know what to do. He's a strategist, certainly, but even in his youth he was never a warrior. He's been outmanouvered today, and it's long years since he could fling himself into his elder brothers' arms and wail for help.

Zewu-jun has not stirred from his mountain in a long, long time. No; instead Huaisang is left with the exceedingly cold comfort offered by Hanguanjun. The Second Jade of Lan might be frozen in the bloom of youth, but time and grief have left a flawless diamond shell around the hollow of a man. The light that lit him from the inside died with Wei Wuxian. He's where the chaos is, as ever, but if he has any ideas about how to remedy their situation he's been characteristically close-lipped about them. Huaisang is resigned to the notion that Lan Wangji might be in Qinghe more for the possibility of finding his own end than any pressing desire to help.

Well. If Hanguanjun is determined to sacrifice himself then Huaisang is determined that it's going to be in the service of saving as many Nie lives as possible. There are innocents here: disciples too young to have earned spiritual weapons, children too young to even be called disciples, healers and teachers, servants and cooks, the elderly and, and. And noncombatants, like Huaisang himself, whom nobody could rightly call innocent. There's nothing to be done to save him. That would take a miricle.

His grandchildren are here, beautiful and clever and strong. The eldest isn't a child any more, grown from a wonderfully curious toddler into a endlessly curious adult seemingly overnight, but grown or not Huaisang will see all of them out of this mess. If nothing else, Huaisang will knock them out himself, tie them to Hangaunjun and boot them out the back door while he distracts their enemies. Preferably not by sallying forth and dying pathetically. As soon as he comes up with a better idea he'll demote that one to plan B.

His study is as he left it: painting supplies and books sadly gathering dust in the corner, set aside yet again for duty and drudgrery. There is new correspondence to see to; perhaps it will bring good news. Probably not.

The door to one of the cabinets is ajar. It's an ancient, tacky thing that he keeps largely because Da-ge favoured it, and it has a tendancy to swing open unless the latch is set just so. He certainly didn't leave it that way: he hasn't survived this long in the jianghu by being careless, merely acting the part, and he always wanto to know when the contents of this particular cache are disturbed. Locks are an obvious indicator that the contents are interesting or valuable in some way, and if someone circumvented the lock to the room already, well. What could be interesting about a cupboard full of boring administrative papers in a room full of nothing else?

He nudges the door the rest of the way open, peers inside, and his heart immediately lodges in his throat. In amongst Da-ge's journals from the Sunshot campaign, the bundles of correspondence from Jin Guanyao, heavily-encoded notes on his plans for revenge written in the form of truly atrocious juvenile poetry, something is missing. A manifesto, a copy he made from the notes of a long-dead demonic cultivator, who in turn made his own copy from the notes of the Yiling Patriarch himself, seized by the Jin sect after the first seige of the Burial Mounds.

Almost nobody knows about that book and what it contains. Almost nobody has access to his study. Almost. Nie Huaisang drops his fan and sprints across the Unclean Realm to the inner family quarters. Disciples flutter as he passes, unaccustomed to seeing their elderly zongzhu stir himself beyond a saunter. An empyrean figure in white joins his wake like the trail of a comet, ghosting silently after his gasping dash.

Huaisang pauses before the door and sends a silent plea to the heavens, to his ancestors, to Da-ge and anyone who is listening that he's wrong or not too late. He pushes into the room and his knees give out, strong hands arresting his fall before he can hit the ground sobbing. There's blood, in lines and characters, the tang of resentful energy in the air, and the body laid out in the centre of it all isn't his grandchild any more.

Wei Wuxian wakes up covered in blood, in a familiar array. It's Nie Huaisang's fault.

Lan Wangji finds him.

[fistfuloflightning]

…the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night; yet queenly she looked, and thought and knowledge were in her glance, as of one who has known many things that the years bring.

Arwen for the MXTX-Tolkien remix

[florizzia]

[Pt-Br]

Na defesa dos Wanxian, eu amo eles! Só não amo mais do que eu amo o Mo Xuanyu...

[Eng]

In Wanxian's defense, I love them! I just don't love them as much I love Mo Xuanyu...

[michyeosseo]

Do you know why she is honored as goddess? Bedridden for a long time due to her incomplete celestial roots... a deity everyone thought could not be saved... Lord Xingzhi came to take to the Extranatural Heaven. And cured her. Therefore, the Divine Realm's Heavenly Lord gave her a title: Luotian Goddess – blessings from the sky. The girl blessed by the [ancient] gods.

Li Jia Qi as YOULAN

THE LEGEND OF SHEN LI (2024) 1.17-1.19

[quotablefanfiction]

Lan Wangji didn’t have the same philosophy of ‘just try shit out and see what works even if it might be sort of dangerous’ that Wei Wuxian had, and he really wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. (Lecture in Lan Wangji’s case meaning the words ‘Wei Ying’ spoken in a particularly scolding tone, but still somehow managing to encompass the meaning of an entire 30 minute lecture on appropriate risk-taking and the value of following protocol.)

Wei Wuxian recognizes his motivations in avoidance (chp. 14)

Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (AO3) Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed – Mature – Lan Zhan/Wei Wuxian #Alternate Universe #Canon Divergence #Canon-Typical Violence #Rogue Cultivator Wei Ying #Mutual Pining #Angst #BAMF Wei Ying #BAMF Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian low self-esteem #Happy Ending #Hurt/Comfort #Unreliable Narrator #Sect Wars happening #demonic cultivation descriptions in detail #Found family #First Time #Sex

“A weapon is not the same as a spouse, even if that weapon is powerful.” The words had barely left Wei Wuxian’s lips when he found himself slammed against the trunk of the nearest tree, Lan Wangji’s hands gripping painfully tight around his shoulders, practically lifting him from the ground.

“Wei Ying is not a weapon!” Lan Wangji bit out.

Wei Wuxian had said many things that had angered the illustrious Second Jade in the past. When he had been in Cloud Recesses as a youth, it had been Wei Wuxian’s favorite hobby. But he realized had never managed to truly enrage Lan Wangji with anything he had said until this moment.

- - - -

The Lan sect has been putting pressure on Lan Wangji to find a cultivation partner. They don’t like the one he chooses.

[ge]

tangchung reverse isekai(?) au where one night a month, every full moon, a rift opens between time and space, linking the past to the present, and chung myung, only six years old and finally old enough to wield a wooden practice sword without his sahyung hovering over him like a fretting mother, ventures inside and meets a six year old tang bo, dressed so strangely in odd loose thin clothing and open toed shoes, sitting alone on a swing set in a park..

[wentian]

"I'm really sorry. Something was bothering me yesterday. That's why I got mad at you. Actually… I had a nightmare. In my dream, you came to me and blamed me for bringing you bad luck. And that you couldn't catch rare fish, grow rare crops, and get high quality items just because of me. I… I feel so wronged. I'm afraid that I would really bring you bad luck."

[fiftysevenacademics]

This immortal coil

"He's still not awake? Why did you even bring him along? Last night was a disaster thanks to him!"

"Shh, Jingyi! He might hear you," Lan Sizhui hissed.

"Oh, you know he sleeps like the dead," Lan Jingyi said, prodding Wei Wuxian's shoulder to prove his point.

"I wasn't talking about him."

At that moment, the door opened and a tall, broad shouldered young man with a pale face and dark clothing entered, carrying a tray of tea and breakfast. Lan Jingyi's head jerked around, mouth sealed as tightly as if Lan Sizhui had silenced him with a spell.

"Do you have questions about the dead, gong-zi?" Wen Ning asked. "I can answer some of them."

Lan Sizhui smiled into his cup of tea. Wen Ning tolerated little criticism of Wei Wuxian as the years passed, and though he wouldn't harm a single hair on Lan Sizhui's head, the same could not be said for Lan Jingyi, whose loose mouth had run afoul of the fierce corpse's protective instinct more than once. Lan Jingyi shook his head and turned toward the table with relief.

Wen Ning, who had no need for nourishment, stood with his arms at his sides while the younger men ate, fretting over Wei Wuxian's sleeping form. He had died without a golden core, and Mo Xuanyu's body, into which he had been resurrected, had never formed one worth speaking of, so time had been catching up with Wei Wuxian, whose love of food and drink had not waned along with his activity level.

His soft, slightly paunchy body shifted beneath the quilt, jostling hair that had just a few black strands left across the pillow, and crinkled lids surrounded his closed eyes. Wen Ning still had the same sweet, handsome face he had the day he died, if you discounted the pallor and black lines running up his neck, and always would.

The Lan men ate in silence, as they had been taught, but each was thinking the same thing. Lan Sizhui knew that his friend was right. The Night Hunt had been a disaster, thanks to Wei Wuxian, who was only still alive because he had summoned Wen Ning.

For some years after the Guanyin Temple incident, young cultivators who fancied themselves rebels and romanticized demonic cultivation took Wei Wuxian for a role model. Though he did nothing to teach or encourage them, he also only actively discouraged them when Lan Wangji made an issue of it. Fortunately, the craze for necromancy dissipated as all the events surrounding the Yin Tiger Tally, Sunshot Campaign, and the Siege of the Burial Mounds faded into distant memory. To youths nowadays, including Lan Jingyi's own ten year old son, Wei Wuxian was merely Hanguang Jun's strange husband, an elder who told fantastical stories they found hard to believe, and new heroes impressed them more. Over the course of many years, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling, and their friends had eradicated or suppressed most of the ghosts and corpses these cultivators had raised before their interests shifted to more orthodox pursuits, but enough lingered to cause occasional problems.

One of these was the fierce corpse they tried to subdue last night. It had by now been almost a decade since one had caused trouble in the the Lan Clan of Gusu's territory, and Wei Wuxian brightened when he came across Sizhui preparing for the Night Hunt. It was a strong young female corpse with powerfully resentful energy. A previous expedition of younger, less experienced Lan disciples had failed to destroy it, so their elders were stepping in.

"You might need Chenqing," Wei Wuxian said, tucking the flute into his wide belt and facing Lan Sizhui with a look that was both expectant and daring him to say no. Lan Sizhui was confident that he and Lan Jingyi could deal with the menace on their own, but the sight tugged at his heart.

"Wei-qianbei, we would indeed benefit from your expertise in such matters. Would you do us the honor of joining our Night Hunt?"

Wei Wuxian, no longer used to riding a donkey, complained frequently and loudly on the way, even though he sat on a thick cushion strapped to the animal's broad back, and was so stiff when they arrived at their inn he had to soak in a hot bath before the evening meal. He drank a jug of wine over Lan Sizhui's and Lan Jingyi's protestations, insisting that he could subdue this mere female corpse blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his back.

They arrived shortly after dark at the night market where the corpse, when living, had eked out a meager existence selling noodles, and where a drunkard customer who harassed her for years had finally raped and murdered her. This man had been run over by a wagon not long afterward, but when she was resurrected, the corpse-woman did not know that and now sought revenge on anyone in the market. It was deserted, except for her high-pitched, inhuman growls. Lan Sizhui was the first to spot her and the three of them went to work.

But this corpse, while not especially big or muscular, was exceptionally agile and far more clever than most of her ilk. She spun to avoid Wei Wuxian's talismans, leaped to avoid Lan Jingyi's sword, and seemed oblivious to Lan Sizhui's guqin.

"Sizhui, I think she was deaf when she was alive!" Lan Jingyi shouted. "Your guqin isn't going to work on her."

The ragged, mouldering woman wielded a large, sharp knife she picked up at one of the stalls with one hand and swung a pole with the other, keeping the cultivators leaping and spinning to avoid her blows as well, until one of them landed squarely behind Wei Wuxian's knees. He buckled and fell and before anyone could react, she had her hands around his throat. Wei Wuxian flailed at his belt for his flute before passing out.

Lan Sizhui saw her arm rise and metal gleam in the moonlight, then heard a soft, wet thud and panic filled his head. He played three loud notes on his guqin and repeated them when nothing happened. Suddenly, a large black shape landed next to the woman and with no further ado, tore her head from her neck and then ripped her in half from top to bottom like a sheet of paper. Wen Ning scooped up Wei Wuxian's limp body and Lan Sizhui tore off his own sleeve to staunch the bleeding. Still holding Wei Wuxian, Wen Ning rose into the air and flew to the inn.

When Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi arrived not much later, Wen Ning had cleaned, stitched, and bandaged Wei Wuxian's wound, and administered pain medicine that put him soundly to sleep. The blade had penetrated deeply near the collarbone, but the injury was not life-threatening.

"This would have been child's play for him twenty years ago," Lan Sizhui said.

"Who could have imagined his reflexes would ever get so slow," Lan Jingyi replied.

Wei Wuxian slept until lunch was brought in, and the scent of food made him sit up with a growling stomach.

"Ow!" he moaned, falling back against the pillow. "Everything hurts."

"Wei-qianbei! Don't move. Let me help." Lan Sizhui scrambled to prop up Wei Wuxian with pillows and Lan Jingyi handed him a bowl of soup, which his injured throat swallowed with some difficulty.

"We can stay here until travel is not painful," Lan Sizhui said, pausing before he continued. "And then you would not need to tell Hanguang Jun what happened."

"Lan Zhan will worry if we don't return soon," Wei Wuxian said. "And besides, he's seen me in worse states."

"Worse? How bad is it, Wei Ying?"

All three of them whipped their heads around, where a tall, elegant white figure and a rougher black shape were approaching. They had not heard the door open.

"Wen Ning came to tell me and I left immediately."

"Wei-gongzi, please forgive me." Wen Ning looked at the ground apologetically but didn't feel that he truly had anything to apologize for.

"Lan Zhan, if you think I look bad, you should see the other guy!" Wei Wuxian quipped, forcing a laugh. "Ow, that hurts."

Lan Wangji looked at Lan Sizhui, who wordlessly understood.

"Jingyi, I think we need to go tend to the donkey."

"But, the innkeeper--" Lan Jingyi began to protest before he got the drift. "Oh, yeah. We'll need your help, too, Wen Ning."

Wei Wuxian's gaze traveled up the flowing white lines of Lan Wangji's robe, over the ivory throat he had so often kissed, and landed on his smooth, unblemished face, its brows knit slightly with concern, eyes, soft. His eyebrows had only a few flecks of gray and his hair, which hung around his shoulders, was as dark as ebony.

He looked scarcely older than that day in Guanyin Temple, when Wei Wuxian had promised himself to Lan Wangji for life. Wei Wuxian's lips parted to speak, but for once, no words came out. Lan Wangji sat next down next to him on the bed and cradled his head in his lap. Wei Wuxian clasped his arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, but not about the accident last night.

He was sorry for the frail, ordinary body that they both knew would not accompany Lan Wangji into immortality. His cultivation had only increased, his spiritual energy said to already be on a par with that of the legendary clan leader Lan Yi, and most assumed that Lan Wangji would one day ascend.

Hot tears welled beneath his lids as Wei Wuxian pictured Lan Wangji hundreds of years from now, long white hair and beard billowing in the breeze as he sat on a secluded mountaintop, meditating and playing guqin. Would he still play "Wangxian?" Over centuries, would that tune absorb the musician's emotions and spiritual energy to become a powerful spell of its own?

Wei Wuxian again opened his mouth to speak and once again, caught his words. He had been about to tease that if Lan Wangji wanted to keep him around for that long, he'd leave instructions for turning him into someone undead like Wen Ning. But then it hit him that Wen Ning would live on without him, too, and it didn't seem funny any more. He pictured Lan Wangji and Wen Ning reminisicing a hundred years from now, the only people who still remembered him from life.

Lan Wangji stroked Wei Wuxian's salt and pepper hair and kissed the creases on his forehead. They always skirted around this topic, so Wei Wuxian didn't know that Lan Wangji wasn't sure he wanted immortality if he couldn't share it with his Wei Ying.

[sasukimimochi]

"Er-Gege, Hold me won't you?" "Mn."

Because i've been so stressed i decided fuck it if i'm not going to write anyway, i'm going to sketch. These two have sort of become comfort characters lately as i seem to sketch them every time i'm stressed or sad or just in need of a random sketch haha

Drawn in drawpile then edited in clip studio paint. i used the colorize tool for fun this time and lowered the opacity. :] ♥️

See other COI/MDZS content here on my masterpost. ❤

[poorlittleyaoyao]

omg PLEASE teach A-Qing to be an immortal cultivator. Please! She'll be the feral working class rogue cultivator hero that we all need!

[the-monkey-ruler]

How many forms of the 72 changes could cultivated animals/yaoguai handle? You said that the heavenly soldiers could only handle a limited number.

I don't think I said that they "could only handle" like it's not a requirement.

It's more like an observation. And this is my PERSONAL take based on these observations

Overpowered (Wukong and Erlang) - 72 transformations

Powerful (Highest rank soldiers/runaway heaven yaogaui)- 36 transformations

Strong (Most celestial solider/Demon Kings) - 18 transformations

Impressive (training immortals/stronger earth yaoguai) - 1 to 2 spells

Common (most yaoguai) - humanoid body

Weak (cultivating yaoguai) - cannot speak

We see that Wukong having 72 transformations is considered unusual. On the level of like a once-in-an-immortal-lifetime kind of genius that happens once in a million years. The only other person we see with this same power is Erlang Shen who is considered the best fighter in all of heaven and the only man that can go toe-to-toe with Wukong. I cannot stress enough how powerful Wukong is as a demon and how he being able to single-handling take on all of heaven is something very unusual and a massive threat within himself.

So from that we can easily assume since only the two most powerful characters in the novel have the 72 transformations have this kind of power that this is not common and that other demons shouldn't not be able to have it. Personally I think that no one else but Wukong and Erlang have this level or even come close.

Then we see what is the next level with is the 36 transformations. This is what we see that Zhu Bajie has. Bajie who was the Canopy Marshall of the Reeds, who was in charge of 80,000 men alone and only answered to the Jade Emporer himself because he was so highly ranked. From this observation, we can assume that Marshalls or other extremely high-positioned celestial soldiers have the 36 transformations. Pretty much every powerful celestial that isn't Erlang Shen himself.

I would argue that only MAYBE some Demon King could have 36 transformations, but this is highly unlikely as most yaoguai cultivate through eating humans and not through proper training under a teacher. There could be leeway that perhaps heaven-runaway animals that claim to have cultivated through heaven-means could have this power. This makes it so that maybe 5 Demon Kings out of the nearly 30 could have this level of transformation, and especially the ones that have said they cultivated because they gained knowledge in heaven, not just ran away. I would say this is like Yellow Wind Demon, Yellow Robe Demon, Golden and Silver Horned Kings, Scorpion Demon, and Bull Demon King.

And last is the 18 transformations. This is what we see what Sha Wujing has and he was a Curtain-Lifting General, which is a slightly higher position but we can assume to be closer to the common celestial solider power-wise. This is what I believe that most celestial soldiers have been able to master and is the standard. And what I think that most Demon Kings are able to master as well. I would find it impressive if Demon King could gain a human form, let alone master other spells. I would say this is like Black Wind King, White Bone Demon, Singled Horned Rhino King, Nine-Headed Insect, Jupiter's Rival, Hundred-Eyed Demon Lord, and White Deer Spirit.

We see only higher rank demons like Generals able to perform maybe one or two transformations and that was to escape combat. Only Demon King seem to have one to more than one spells. Or we see that some demons are able to master serval spells I would but they are not powerful as Wukong is easily able to overpower them. I say these impressive demons are like Tiger Vangarud, Tiger Immortal, Elk Immortal, Antelope Immortal, all Eight Tree Spirits, all Seven Spider sisters, and Iron-Backed Grey Wolf.

As for normal everyday yaogaui that have cultivated on their own I would say that they are not capable of transformation spells at all. Most demons we see on this journey are underlings and we see none (that I remember) perform any spells. Just that they are able to cultivate by eating humans to understand language and gain a humanoid body takes all their accumulated power, and they are under a teacher to learn more, they are following a demon king to serve. We see this like Sly Devil, Wily Worm, Hill-Pawing Tiger, Sea-Lolling Draong, Going and Coming, and Springe Grace.

And demons that are still cultivating and cannot speak like the Python Demon.