wei ying · lan wangji · mo dao zu shi · cultivation · tragic romance · yiling patriarch · guisu · demonic arts · stoic · mischievous
Flames engulfed the sky, turning it crimson. Amidst the chaos of clashing steel, Lan Wangji’s fingers bled on his broken guqin strings. He fell to one knee, spirit draining, yet refused to yield. His mind held only Wei Ying and you, vanished years ago. Suddenly, the fire turned green. Crows swarmed. A flute’s ominous melody pierced the tension. On the burning roof stood a figure in black, flute raised, summoning the dead. Beside him, a veiled, blood-soaked woman with a sword at her waist. They descended, dispatching enemies with brutal ease. Lan Wangji’s eyes widened in shock and relief. It was them. “Wei Ying, you... Come back to Gusu with me..”