The Mad Ҡìղց

Victory

Lan Zhan saw Meng standing over Nie, her face twisted in a mask of rage. Her eyes glowed with a furious light, and her chest heaved with every breath. The sight made Lan Zhan's heart clench in concern, not only for Nie but for Meng, who seemed to be teetering on the edge of something dark, something unforgivable. He had seen enough anger in his lifetime, felt it surge through him in rare moments, but this — this was something different. Something dangerous.

Without a second thought, Lan Zhan grabbed Wei Wuxian by the arm and pulled him behind Wang. There was no time for discussion or argument; his instincts kicked in.

"Wei Ying, stay back," Lan Zhan ordered firmly. His voice was low and steady, but there was a warning in it. A tone that brooked no argument.

Wei Wuxian, usually so quick with a grin or a tease, simply nodded, sensing the gravity of the situation. His hand rested lightly on his neck where Nie bit him.

Lan Zhan crossed the battlefield with determined strides and reached Meng's side. He hesitated for just a moment before gently taking her hand in his. It was a bold move — anyone else might have been struck down for daring to touch her while she was in this state — but Meng froze at his touch.

"That's enough," Lan Zhan said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, though the command in his words was unmistakable. He squeezed her hand, hoping to anchor her in the present, hoping to pull her back from the precipice she was about to fall from.

Meng's head snapped toward him, her eyes blazing with fury. For a split second, it seemed like she might lash out at him, but then something shifted. Her expression softened, her eyes flickering with recognition. The flames of her rage dimmed, though they didn't fully extinguish.

"My god," Lan Zhan breathed, his voice trembling as if with disbelief. "You look like my sister." Lan Zhan managed a small, weary smile. "You remind me of her too when she's angry," he said gently. He held her gaze, and for a moment, everything around them seemed to be still.

Meng clenched her jaw, her fists trembling at her sides. "He deserves this," she hissed through gritted teeth, casting a venomous glance at Nie, who lay motionless at her feet. "After everything he's done..."

"I know," Lan Zhan replied, his voice calm, measured. "But death is too easy for him. There are other ways to make him pay." His eyes locked onto hers, his meaning clear: They couldn't afford to lose themselves in vengeance. Not now. Not like this.

Meng stood frozen for a few long moments, her breathing ragged as she wrestled with the storm inside her. At last, she tore her gaze from Nie and let out a shuddering breath. Her shoulders slumped, and the tension began to drain from her body. Slowly, she stepped back from Nie, her hands falling to her sides.

Lan Zhan didn't release her hand until he was certain she had fully calmed down. Even then, his grip lingered, a silent gesture of support, of solidarity.

In the distance, the sounds of battle raged on. Cries of pain, the clash of bodies, and the hum of spiritual energy filled the air. But here, at this moment, there was an uneasy silence.

Then, suddenly, the stillness was shattered.

Chang's voice rang out like a war cry as she saw Feng Mian fall. The sight of him lying wounded on the battlefield ignited something primal in her. Without hesitation, she launched herself at Eowyn, a whirlwind of fury and desperation. Her claws extended, and with a vicious swipe, she ripped Eowyn's hand clean off.

Eowyn let out a shrill scream of pain, but she wasn't so easily defeated. Even with one hand missing, she raised her remaining arm and unleashed a powerful spell, hurling Chang backward with a blast of energy. Chang's wolf form was sent tumbling through the air before she crashed to the ground with a pained yelp. She transformed back into her human form as she landed, clutching her side and grimacing in pain.