Someone's Perspective
The moon's silvery glow had long since dipped beneath the horizon, casting the mountainous landscape in an inky veil. The darkness was almost palpable, a living entity that wrapped itself around the peaks and valleys. I stood atop the highest peak, surrounded by an unsettling silence. The wind carried whispers of a world in turmoil - cultivators clashing, spiritual energies exploding like thunder.
The air was heavy with the scent of blood and ozone. I breathed it in, my senses heightened as I surveyed the landscape. My gaze swept across the darkness, sensing the turmoil below. A lone figure tumbled through the air, plummeting toward the jagged rocks. I watched, unmoved, as the world seemed to slow.
He was a cultivator, once renowned for his brilliance. Now, his descent mirrored his fall from grace. The weight of his crimes bore down upon him - the Yilling Patriarch, a title synonymous with fear. Memories whispered through my mind: the rumors, the legends, the cautionary tales. Few dared speak his name, lest they attract unwanted attention.
As I observed the falling figure, my thoughts drifted to the events that had led him to this point. The cultivation world's whispers spoke of his genius, his innovative talismans and gadgets that had shaken the foundations of spiritual practice. They spoke of his unwavering dedication, his unrelenting passion. And they spoke of his downfall, his descent into darkness.
The wind howled, a mournful cry that echoed through the mountains. I raised a hand, my fingers extending toward the falling figure. The shadows around me stirred, obeying my unspoken command. A dark tendril stretched forth, ensnaring the falling figure.
With a gentle pull, I drew him to safety. His body collapsed onto the rocky ground, exhausted and broken. For a moment, our eyes met. His, filled with despair; mine, shrouded in mystery.
A flicker of recognition danced in his gaze, but it vanished, replaced by exhaustion. His eyes, once bright with purpose, now seemed dull, drained of life. I sensed the depth of his pain, the weight of his sacrifices.
As I gazed upon his battered form, a pang of... something stirred within me. Sympathy? Curiosity? I couldn't quite place it. Perhaps it was the recognition of a kindred spirit, one who had walked the fine line between light and darkness.
The silence between us was oppressive, heavy with unspoken questions. I knew his story, the whispers and rumors that had circulated throughout the cultivation world. I knew of his foster family's betrayal, of the Golden Core's sacrifice. And I knew of his eventual fall, his embracing of demonic cultivation.
With a quiet sigh, I crouched beside him. My fingers brushed against his forehead, and his eyes fluttered closed. Sleep, or perhaps unconsciousness, claimed him.
As I waited, the darkness seemed to coalesce around us. Shadows danced, weaving an intricate pattern of light and shadow. The wind whispered secrets, and I listened.
In that moment, our fates entwined.
..............................................................................................
Third person perspective
The mournful cry tha echoed was non other than, Lan Wangji, calling out to Wei Ying for the last time...he knew his Wei Ying would hear him...
He stood their as he saw Wei Ying's figure being consumed by dark shadows completely vanishing out of his sight...he didn't know what to do...his mind refused to accept the fact that his Wei Ying was no more...he will never come back...No one knows where he went...
He stood there for hours refusing anyone to go and search for the dead body of the renowned "Yilling laozu", until his uncle and brother came with their clan members and almost dragged him away...he was punished with 33 hits...no 33 strikes from the disciple whip and standing infront of the wall for 3 years to reflect on his actions. However, this was the first ever time, Lan wangji did not once feel guilty for breaking the clan's rules but for not being able to save his Wei Ying from the horror of the battle where atlast, it was his own adopted brother who killed him.
Once his seclusion was over, he isolated himself from everyone in his clan.
Lan Qiren tried his best to stop his nephew from doing so but his nephew was long gone. Somehow, he, himself broke his clan rule and became too prideful to even accept that what he did to his younger nephew was wrong, just like he did when his brother's wife gave birth to a pair of twins. Nobody knows that she gave birth to twins except for the one assisting her during her delivery, some elders,as prideful as him, and Qinghe Jun and his wife. Not even Xichen or Wangji knows about it.
Lan Xichen became the clan leader and became busy in his duties..
..............................................................................................
Author: what do you think of it?? Who was that mysterious someone, who swiftly saved Wei wuxian, the Yilling Patriarch?? Will Wangji ever be able to find the love of his life now ??
YOU ARE READING
Demonic Dawn [ Lan Wangji's Dark Twin ]
FanfictionWhat if Lan wangji had a twin who was taken away right after his birth as the Lan clan elders and Lan Qiren didn't wanted to raise all of the children of a lady who took unorthodox path and so, they can prove their sect leader Qinghe Jun that she ki...