Chapter Text
The term “night-hunting” dated back thousands of years, according to historical documents. Distant ancestors of the traditional cultivation sects used it to name the act of venturing out to kill monsters and exorcise spirits, but all of that had become stories of honorable warriors. Even though cultivation had survived the violent passage of time, it had naturally morphed, leaving a cloudy path behind — and modern cultivators swaying in its mist. Some adapted to the current times more than others. All adapted more than the Lan sect, at least.
In the way that cultivation was a business for half of the modern sects and a sport for the other half, for the Lans, it was more similar to secular religion. Lan Yi was their goddess, the proper balance of the cultivation world was their goal and cultivation was the means to achieve it. They had to hold on to tradition with a relentless grip in order to compensate for the unreliability of others. Traditional cultivation was their truth and they were unwavering about it. Naturally, the Lan sect had become responsible for the common law in the realm. They were historians, lawyers, judges, writers, teachers, musicians, healers… They held the power to approve or disapprove any other Sect’s dealings with the Ground. They wore such authority with responsibility and were trusted for not imposing personal beliefs upon others, which allowed them to remain respected through the ages, even after one or two scandals in recent memory.
As for business, they were huge pharmaceutical researchers and sponsors. They had famously patented a treatment for qi deviation that showed excellent results and, since then, the Nie sect did not have to worry about longevity. Clarity was a drug named after a song from the Lan history books that was said to be played for the same purpose in ancient times. However revolutionary that achievement had been, it did not come without complaints, as the Wen sect owned facilities to treat the victims of such affliction. The Jins had fallen from historical grace, their influence now bought instead of granted. Still, their sponsorship of the semi-annual Night-hunting Tournaments kept them, at least, in the public’s good graces.
Night-hunting had turned into something like soccer or basketball for modern society, those tournaments representing the World Cup or Olympics of the cultivation realm, where the glory of physical cultivation skills was attainable, even with the ever-fading clear spiritual energy available in the realm and lack of mythical creatures for slaying. And, even though the sects took the credit if their representative hunter won, most of the time those were disciples from neighboring bloodlines that had died down with time. Whoever had the strongest Golden Core. For years, there was an undefeated winner: Wei Ying, from the Jiang Sect.
Lan Wangji did not manage his own social media. He felt like he didn’t have to be constantly reminded of people’s opinion of him and whole essays comparing him to his brother did not accomplish driving a wedge between the two, rendering themselves immediately obsolete. However, Lan Wangji had been granted the right to not be a part of the Sect Leader meeting that had happened a day prior. He dreaded the thought of attending and his brother obliged. Unfortunately, it wasn’t like word spread any slower in the Cultivation realm than on the Ground. Suddenly, those articles that used to present nothing but reordered words and synonyms became much preferable.
“Beautiful, kind, empathetic Lan Xichen. Alleged Light Bearer with a warm smile and soothing aura, the hope of this generation. The elder Lan brother will wipe his bloodline of the father’s stains and bring a prosperous future for Cultivators to come,” they used to read.
However, Lan Xichen had become Sect Leader at twenty-five, as of that meeting - the one Lan Wangji had been granted absence. Public opinion about Lan Xichen nor Lan Wangji’s own should change at all with this new arrangement, except for the deep feeling of disappointment and hopelessness that Lan Wangji certainly shared with the rest of the Cultivation realm.
During the meeting that Lan Wangji had skipped, sect leaders’ first surprise was that Lan Qiren was standing down and passing the role to his first-born nephew. They questioned the move, as it would’ve been unorthodox for the Light Bearer to take leadership of the Sect before producing an heir. The next surprise answered their concerns: Lan Xichen was not this generation’s Light Bearer. Luckily, the Sect would not be without successors, as Lan Yi’s blessing had been placed upon Lan Wangji instead.
It was the younger Lan brother whose entire public perception had shifted overnight. Instead of an excellent Night-hunter, a powerful musical healer with features polished from jade, they said he was too unfriendly, too arrogant, and unwelcoming. None of his skills were mentioned. “He has always fallen short next to Wei Ying, representative of Yunmeng Jiang,” they used to read and read and still read.
The Lan doctrines had evolved into an equivalent of a Bible. Cultivation was their religion and Lan Yi, their goddess. And, as only males were born into the bloodline of succession and Lan Yi the only woman that there ever had been and ever should be, the only Mother and Matriarch, as legend had it and so had been for centuries, a male Lan heir would be blessed with the gift of bearing the next generation. The blessed heir would be named the Lightbearer and was usually the last bearer’s first-born and should be suited with Cultivators of ancient bloodlines and pure Golden cores.
For twenty-five years, it was believed that Lan Xichen would be carrying out the role and his relationship with Nie Mingjue drew a clear picture of the future. For a decade, it was kept a secret that that would not be the case because Lan Wangji, who had trained to become a Night-hunter since infancy, considered this new-found fate to be a burden and, if he put it honestly, an injustice. He had nobody who meant to him what Nie Mingjue meant to his brother. He had none of the social skills that his brother mastered. He had none of the warmth suitable to bear a child. As a favor to him - and a mercy -, Lan Xichen had agreed to withhold the truth and let people’s assumptions flourish by themselves. It was good for their relationships, as Lan Xichen was supposedly taken by an honorable future sect leader since childhood, therefore no suitors would bother chasing him and the future was wrapped in a bow. Whereas Lan Wangji could picture himself indulging no one. He was allowed to follow his career Night-hunting until Lan Xichen’s 25th birthday, when the Lightbearer should be announced.
Regarding the sport, there were precautions needed to be taken and rules that he had to follow. They were small bumps compared to what he would have to face at twenty-three years old.
Lan Wangji’s guts revolted inside of him as he read the news spread. He had known of this fate for years. He’d tried to understand it, accept it… To, at least, tolerate it. It, however, still, sickened him. With this secret eating the young Lightbearer alive, he dedicated himself to watching his likely suitors throughout the years, with as much discretion as he could possibly muster, but he had apparently failed at disguising the dread with which he contemplated the future. It was said that Lan Wangji stared at others with contempt. And it was true. He did. Lan Wangji looked down on them because he knew, he knew they wished to look down on him.
Lan Wangji was aware that concessions made by his clan for him because it was obvious that the young Lightbearer would choose death over this predicament for the foreseeable future, but there was hope that he would grow into resignation. Lan Wangji tried, but he didn’t know how earnestly. The mornings of meditation and nights of silent horror came to equal conclusions: if he could not survive it, he could get rid of himself instead. The clouds that surrounded Gusu were suffocating him and he could only look forward to a day when his breathing would come to a silent, freeing halt. Anything would be more bearable than this. Death was something he felt able to stomach.
While there was still time, however, he talked himself into waiting. Lan Wangji told himself to have patience, but he knew that his faith was already shaken.
A Lightbearer of flimsy beliefs. Ridiculous.
Years went by with no resolution, only a growing disgust that roped around his very bones. He looked around the potential suitors from traditional sects that would likely jump at the chance for a historically irreversible connection with the Lan sect and Lan Yi’s miracle. He’d observe them and his skin would crawl. They didn’t know that there might come a day where they would be able - and invited to - lay a hand on him. But Lan Wangji knew and an ugly feeling weighed behind his eyes when he locked eyes with them. He wanted to cry. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to die.
He wanted to die. The thought of any of them touching him was rejected by his body with such force that Lan Wangji was aware of their presence even when separated by a room full of people. Even the young Night-hunter from Yunmeng, who wasn’t even a sect heir when Lan Wanji first met him fresh into their teenage years, was made into collateral damage of this wretchedness. Surprisingly, Wei Ying didn't avoid Lan Wangji after his first few rejections to his friendliness, instead he insisted to roam around him during every competition in the tournament. Lan Wangji tried to get away from him in the least pathetic way imaginable, but the boy was relentless and followed him to the podium, with the Gold medal Lan Wangji had always hoped to achieve for his sect.
An entire life of training, only to almost give it his all. And he thought that no one would suspect his actions. Wei Ying was adopted exactly because of his strong Golden Core and that would make him more likely to win first place than a Lan young master fathered by a broken Lightbearer. But Wei Ying, somehow, as always, just knew. He sensed things and voiced them.
“Wangji-xiong! Are you trying to spare me? You’re hurting my pride here!”, he would complain as they exchanged blows in the final duel. “Come on, gege, don’t be shy! I can take it! Come at me, I give you permission.”
Lan Wangji furrowed his brows. If he could, he would. The Cultivator in him wished he indeed had permission to rise to the challenge, but he didn’t. Not then and certainly not like that. He could control his pride. Still, he could not hold back from wondering if this boy was mocking him. When Wei Ying was declared winner, they had to walk towards each other, bow, then shake hands. From that close, Lan Wangji could see that his forehead was damp with sweat and he had a mole under his bottom lip. He hesitated touching the boy’s hand as a reflex, but quickly rationalized that it was no matter. Even so, Wei Ying saw it. And he just knew. He knew, and voiced it.
“Oh, thanks, I thought you were gonna leave me hanging for a second there.” Was he? Was Wei Ying mocking him? “Wangji-xiong, you have the most overwhelming spiritual energy I’ve ever felt. I hope you’ll consider me an opponent worthy of your all next time. I’ll train hard to handle it safely, so don’t worry about me, okay?”
That wasn’t why. Lan Wangji wasn’t being considerate of Wei Ying, let alone looking down on him. Wei Ying’s spiritual energy was also overwhelming. It was fierce, powerful and oddly free, which was a first for Lan Wangji to witness. Lan cultivation was rooted in control, whereas Wei Ying’s fighting style looked haphazard and unrefined. The Jiang free spirit was definitely there, but their night-hunter always seemed to be testing something, trying something new, entertained by the fight rather than focused on it. Still, Lan Wangji’s findings couldn’t be all true as Wei Ying had incredible gauge of his opponents. Truthfully, Lan Wangji had never needed to give it his all before being faced with Wei Ying. His limits had only been a real restraint during this duel.
Lan Wangji wasn’t too disappointed, though.
Because Wei Ying knew. He wasn’t looking down on Lan Wangji, he wasn’t boasting his win over the Lan heir. There was integrity in him — that was the first truth about Wei Ying that Lan Wangji learned.
Six months later, the same thing happened, but Lan Wangji was glad that he knew for certain that Wei Ying was going to be his opponent. Then, he learned that Wei Ying was quite the whiny type. Everytime Lan Wangji dismissed his challenges, the Jiang night-hunter would pout. What was that? During a duel? Shouldn’t he be more serious? And it didn’t stop after they bowed to each other either: Wei Ying walked over to shake hands as if Lan Wangji had slashed his black and purple safety-suit.
“Wangji-xiong! I trained really hard, you know?! I’m not going to die from a few blows, even if your Core is super strong. I know you guys don’t like violence, but can’t you make an exception for a duel?! Am I too prideful for not wanting a medal I didn’t earn?”
Strange boy.
“You’ve earned it. I’ve done all I can.”
Wei Ying crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.”
What a ridiculous exchange. And Wei Ying seemed like he wanted to ask again for some odd reason. It was fine if he didn’t trust Lan Wangji’s words as the Lan heir was indeed telling half-truths, but he should be able to tell that there was no point in pressing the point any further. They would just be repeating the word “really” in different intonations until the sun set and rose again.
The Jiang boy sighed heavily and shrugged.
“Alright, no need to tell me. Let’s get to know each other first.”
Lan Wangji felt his own eyebrows crease. Wei Ying grinned and that grin morphed into a smile. He really held the most diverse range of expressions. This one, Lan Wangji thought, was quite radiant. There was a glimmer in his eyes that caught the Lan heir’s interest, one that seemed to never leave, even when he whined or battled. “I’ll show you, I’ll bother you so much you won’t resist coming at me! It’s a proven method. At least, pestering is something I know for sure I have you beat, Gege.”
Lan Wangji listened to those words and wondered why they weren’t as tiresome as they should be. “I am indeed no match for Wei Ying in that skill either.”
“'Either', my foot.”
The Lan heir felt his lips curl at the sight of such petulance, so he quickly turned around.
“Gege, wait for me!”
“We’re the same age.”
“Gege! Lan-er-gege! Wangji-ge!”
Since then, Wei Ying tried to boast about his pestering skills every time they met. Lan Wangji was going to keep quiet about how that boy needed more practice. If he couldn’t make Lan Wangji, a notorious easy target, feel pestered, then Wei Ying must be pitiful at it.
Lan Wangji wondered, at twenty-three, if the winds had carried the news to Yunmeng, that the secret was no longer.