The Mad Ҡìղց

Accusation

The room was heavy with the metallic scent of blood and the suffocating silence of death. Lady Yan Li lay motionless on the floor, her serene expression forever marred by the crimson stains trailing from her chest. Beside her, Master Jin's body slumped against the bed, his eyes wide open, frozen in an expression of betrayal and agony. The once vibrant chambers now felt like a tomb.

Wei Ying's scream echoed through the air, shattering what little composure remained in those gathered. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest as if the pain was too much to bear. "Sister..." he whispered, his voice trembling. The weight of grief consumed him, and tears streamed down his face as he crawled to her side.

Lan Wanji watched, his face a mask of control despite the turmoil within. He rested a steadying hand on Wei Ying's shoulder but said nothing, his throat too tight to form words. He turned his gaze to Lan Xichen, who stood by the doorway, his jaw clenched, his eyes red-rimmed but determined.

"Who could have done this?" Wei Ying finally choked out, his voice raw and desperate. "Why would anyone..." His words dissolved into sobs as he buried his face in his hands.

Lan Xichen stepped forward, his voice low and grave. "We don't know yet. The guards say they heard nothing. No one saw anyone enter or leave. It's as though the killer vanished into thin air."

Lan Wanji's eyes narrowed, his mind already turning over possibilities. He glanced at Niobe, who was still holding Ayana tightly, her trembling form almost unbearable to watch. Wanji approached them, his tone gentle but firm. "Ayana, did you see anything? Hear anything?"

Ayana shook her head violently, her lips quivering as she whispered, "I-I I didn't hear any noise..." Her voice broke, and she buried her face in Niobe's shoulder.

Lan Wanji exchanged a look with his brother, unspoken words passing between them. This was no random attack—it was calculated, cold, and precise.

"We will find who did this," Wanji said quietly, his voice steady, a vow more than a promise. But as he looked at Wei Ying, crumpled in anguish, he knew the path ahead would be drenched in both sorrow and blood.

The room was thick with tension as Madam Yu and Mrs. Jin entered, their faces pale, bodies trembling. Behind them strode Master Jiang Fengmian and Jin Guangshan, their expressions grim. Madam Yu's scream pierced the air as her eyes fell on the ghastly scene before them. Yanli and Jin Zixuan lay lifeless on the ground, their hearts brutally carved out, their blood staining the floor.

Jin Zixuan's reindeer antlers, torn viciously from his form, left deep marks on his head, betraying the agony he must have suffered. Both victims were stripped bare, though someone had draped a cloth over their lifeless forms, offering a semblance of dignity to the macabre scene.

Madam Yu's voice cracked as she cursed, tears streaming down her face. "Who would dare do this to my daughter? On her wedding night?!" She gripped the edge of the bed as if the fury coursing through her was the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

From the crowd, someone pointed hesitantly. "What's that under the bed?"

Jiang Cheng, sharp-eyed and tense, stepped forward and crouched. Pulling out a piece of fabric, he startled as a small pocket knife tumbled to the ground. Wei Ying snatched it up, studying the intricate design etched on its handle. Two letters gleamed in the firelight: L.W.

Wei Ying's gaze shot to Lan Wangji, standing silent and stoic amid the chaos. By the time Jiang Cheng unfolded the fabric, the room was filled with gasps. It was a cloaking robe, emanating the faint, distinctive scent of Lan Wangji.