Chaos controlled the battlefield. Everywhere Lan Zhan looked, bodies had fallen on the ground, swept away by the resentment energy that flowed like water from his beloved's fingertips.
Swords clashed, warriors screamed, and the stench of death pervaded the air like a storm, lashing out against anyone who stood in her way. Above it all, the sound of Chenqing rang deep and true, the notes a shrill scream of pain and suffering.
Wei Ying, so dark, so terrible and mighty, a veritable God among these worthless creatures who had dared to invoke his wrath, and now they were paying the price for their impudence. He stood high up on the jagged crevices still too far away from Lan Zhan, his black robes fluttering with the force of his power, lethal and yet restrained because despite public opinion, his Wei Ying was in perfect control.
Pale and beautiful, nay, stunning in his glory, Wei Ying was the beacon to his soul, as he commanded the ghost army to annihilate those that dared to oppose him.
But Wei Ying was mad with grief, his actions only a blur in his mind even as he wept; his sister's body still lying there on the ground by his feet, and his so-called brother swearing vengeance.
Lan Zhan had seen it all, watched it happen while he was too far away to stop it, to interrupt this madness, because there could be no rhyme or reason to why this was happening.
Why did Wei Ying have to suffer any more?
Why did the people surrounding him, especially those under his protection end up dying anyway?
Wen Qing. Wen Ning. All of the last remaining peaceful civilians of the Wen clan, Uncle Four, Wen Popo...even little A-Yuan. And now Jiang YanLi.
Perhaps it was better that she was dead, because then she would be saved from witnessing this barbaric display of strength against her beloved brother, since each and every soul here wanted him dead. Except for Lan Zhan.
It wasn't fair.
Lan Zhan felt his heart breaking every step of the way as he chased after Wei Ying, knowing he was going to do something terrible, something so awful, it would put a stop to this wickedness, permanently. He could see it in the twist of his lips, still red from the blood that had spilled in this cursed place.
Wei Ying was too pale, too weak now, though no one else noticed.
His feet faltered, moving as if there was a weight attached to his ankles and he was wading through thick currents holding him back.
Lan Zhan was so distracted as he ran, he didn't see the sword coming at him until it was too late, but some instinct had him turning his body so it missed his torso and any vital organs to slash at his arm, a long cut that bled profusely.
Lan Zhan didn't waste a second to dispatch the interruption, too worried about Wei Ying as he chased after him, and in his heart of hearts, he knew why Wei Ying was climbing up.
Lan Zhan watched as Wei Ying flung the Yin Hufu up into the air and clenched his fist. Closing his eyes, Wei Ying summoned the great forces of the ghost armies back towards himself, cutting off their clamours for revenge and once the resentment energy was trapped, in one fell swoop, he burst the dreaded weapon into pieces, fragments of the explosion raining down on all those who stood fighting nearby.
There was no time to lose; with a last bit of energy, Lan Zhan propelled himself up that mountain, and saw Wei Ying not care any more. The light died from his beautiful eyes and he turned around to face the catastrophic battlefield below him, unseeing.
"WEI YING!" Lan Zhan shouted, but the noise behind him was too great; but even if Wei Ying heard him, it was clear to see that he just did not care.
Lan Zhan saw him step back off the ledge, and he knew. This Wei Ying had given up now.
