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Chapter Text

The world had never been so quiet.

Suibian had been unwilling to part with Wei Ying all those months ago, cursed that bastard Jiang Wanyin for demanding her wielder behave.

If they all worked together, sure it wouldn’t happen without a few casualties, but they would’ve been to take down Wen Zhuliu.

Unfortunately, it seemed only that Golden Peacock had any backbone. And with the threat of that Core-Melting Hand or whatever, Suibian could only obediently allow that arrogant Wen to touch her without consequence.

Wei Ying had assured her though. That a moment like this was exactly why they’d practiced being independent. That he would be fine. That they wouldn’t be far so they could keep tabs on each other. That he’d find out where they were taking by her and be sneaking her out by the end of the month.

It wasn’t a promise he could keep, that asshole Jiang Wanyin kept him on a tight leash, and that lecherous bastard Wen Chao had developed some kind of hate-crush on him too. 

Suibian should’ve just used her own might to return to his side, regardless of the consequences of revealing how strong the bond between her wielder and her was. Should’ve done so the moment Wei Ying was screaming for help across their bond after that Wen locked him in a cell with a rabid hound. 

Should’ve done so when he began to get just out of range enough that they could only communicate with emotions. When the situation became dire enough he’d taken up a sword, Wen Chao’s according to its now long devoured spirit. When the only feedback she was getting from their bond was pain, pain, and more pain as something spiritually seared itself into her wielder’s flesh. 

A spiritual branding tool, no doubt the very one he’d complained the lecher’s bitch was waving around not a week ago. 

In the very least, she should’ve unsheathed herself to skewer that leech when he came strutting into the room demanding he be handed Wei Ying’s sword. And what right did he have to call her wielder with such familiarity.

Instead, all she had done was sear a complementary burn across the leech’s sensitive palm as he dared touch her. 

Then there’d been screaming, and a foreign discomforting burn as that annoying Core-Melting Hand approached, before there was darkness.

The darkness didn’t last long before he was snapped back to awareness by the chilling hunger of a resentful sword spirit reaching for him from across their bond.

For all the accidental, or otherwise unexpected but opportunistic encounters his wielder had with resentful energy, this had been his first time experiencing it himself.

And he was furious. How dare this arrogant sword not only try to eat him, but attempt to possess Wei Ying as well!

It’d been an exhausting six hour battle of wills as he fought with all he had to protect Wei Ying from such a distance. 

And when the battle came to an end, everything faded to darkness once again.

The next time she woke, Suibian was in an unfamiliar location surrounded by the other confiscated spiritual swords and boasting Wens. It was unpleasant, but not more so than the long stretch of distance now between Wei Ying and her.

It was the farthest they’d ever been from each other, so far that they could only get vague impressions of each other’s emotions. She passed the time cultivating, practicing reaching for and across the expanse of their bond.

At first going out of her way to burn all that dared attempt to handle her, especially that leech Wen Chao that periodically attempted rather pathetically to force her to submit to him. Before eventually deciding it best she conserve her energy, and thus sealing her blade within her sheath.

Weeks or months must have passed, her drive to get stronger strengthening with each familiar flare of Zidian’s spiritual energy “teasing” their bond as its owner no doubt whipped her wielder, before one day the whip’s spirit all but invaded it.

Suibian had always hated it, constantly asking her wielder if she could eat it only to receive a firm no. In that instance, where she wanted nothing more than to devour the thing that very moment when Wei Ying couldn’t tell her no…

The only thing that saved it was that it managed to relay information on what was happening.

And then more days passed in nerve-wracking unease. Paranoia, fear, and anxiety, anger, and most of all devastation all that could be felt through their bond. At one point, Wei Ying was even close enough that they could almost communicate with impressions of phrases.

But rather than decrease the distance her wielder had increased it. It left her nervous. For all she’d supported and enjoyed their independence she didn’t like this one bit. And it only got worse.

A sudden burst of sharp clarity through their bond despite their distance. She felt each and every agonizingly little cut as Wei Ying’s golden core was being separated from his body and spirit.

Every agonizing second felt with cruel clarity even as each cut seemed to increase the distance between them tenfold. 

An entire two days and a night. Until suddenly the world was quiet in a way it had never been for her. Not even the vaguest of emotions could be heard. 

Wei Ying was alive. She had no doubt about this as she’d been not just been born from his core but his very spirit. However, without a golden core there was nothing to ferry and boost the connection between them. For all her genius unrivaled wielder would be able to “wield” her, no longer would he be able to cultivate with her anymore. 

It was unacceptable. She hated it. She refused to accept it. 

But she knows her wielder better than anyone, knew of all the theories and experiments they’d created and tested. These are trying times and he would not leave his charges amongst a raging war.

Spiritual energy may no longer be an option, but it wasn’t the only energy out there.

While the encounter had been horrible, Suibian had never been so grateful for that arrogant resentful sword.

She would not leave her beloved wielder to fall alone. 

Chapter Text

Foreign resentment was a cold thing, Wei Ying had told him once. It felt like icy douse of water that cooled a flaming sword amidst its forging, suffocating you for a moment as it tried to retain its previous form.

He’d theorized that if one just listened to it, just let it flow through them without lingering, you could not control it but guide it to do your bidding. That eventually, that resentment would have accepted this guide as itself and settle in own’s body without attempting to re-shape flesh.

Suibian wishes to tell him that one can create their own resentment, or at least that very opinionated weapon spirits can do so with a bit of practice. 

He can already envision the delighted pulsing of his spirit, flaring intrigued joy, and the beaming stretch of his lips, that would be shared between their souls as he learned such information. 

Of course, he had the Nie Sabers to thank for inspiring this new manner of resentful cultivation. Particularly, the sacrifice of a very specific saber that had allowed him to devour it to give him a starting boost.

He supposes Nie Huaisang will be pleased to learn he’d finally done as the idler begged those few years ago. His saber could rest easy knowing it’d been useful and its wielder protected by impossible entities. 

Suibian’s resentment felt warm, a warmth unlike the comfort of spiritual energy, rather it was a warmth to the point of blistering in its heat. It was hot, as hot as the burning persevering embers of what remained of Wei Ying’s soul that was being pressed by an unfathomable chill. 

That was another thing he was certain Wei Ying would delight in learning. That whereas spiritual energy connected with flesh, resentful energy connected with one’s very soul.

It gave him hope. Hope that they’d be able to communicate and cultivate together even without a golden core.

All those years of practicing and testing their independence yet never thinking to truly go beyond that connection of flesh. 

Until they could figure it out, maybe there was hope Huaisang could meditate for them. The idling brat was one of his now, he could feel the distant hum of his core. Far weaker than anything Wei Ying ever cultivated but undoubtedly growing in strength thanks to their shared efforts whilst attending those dull lectures. 

For now all he could do was wait. Wait and simmer in his sheath as he cultivated his resentment, devouring the sword spirits of any cultivator who dared touch him. He spiritual energy locked away until Wei Ying was here to help figure out a manner of conversion.

She’d lost track of mortal time after her connection with Wei Ying was severed.

Growing ever more hateful as she was forced to listen to those Wen Bastards boast and brag. Perhaps she should be grateful they provided such a perfect environment to cultivate resentment with their words. 

“Yunmeng Jiang Clan? Lotus Cove?” a drunken guard had mumbled. “I joined Wen-er-gongzi and devastated them all!”

“That poor bastard Jiang Cheng. His golden core was crushed by Wen Zhuliu! Disciple of a gentry family? What a joke!” The fool’s fellow drunken guards laughed with him.

“He was a piece of junk, after all!” Another hollered in agreement.

Suibian cared little for the angry grape that was Wei Ying’s charge, but the words had dread feeling her. While she cared not for the Jiang heir her wielder did… 

“Boss, boss, what about that one… what about that arrogant young master? What was his name again?”

Slurring through his sips, another soldier suggested, “Wei… Wei Wuxian?”

Exclamations of agreement rang out.

“Yeah, I remember his name!”

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Yes, that’s it,” they laughed.

“Gongzi? That’s too big of a title for him! He was just the son of a servant!”

It was a familiar phrase. How many times had that bitch Madam Yu shouted those very same words, leaving Suibian to desire to not just skewer her but utterly humiliate her? It was one of the moments that Wei Ying would consciously overpower her spirit so she could not defend him against the harpy. 

To hear those words again from other mouths…

Suibian bristled amidst her sheath, her hate fueling and empowering the resentment circulated through her form.

“You know—“ the future deadman stuttered out, “—you know I was there when we found him! We beat him up!”

“Like he was a sandbag!”

“Too bad you weren’t there!” Another piped up. “You didn’t see the look on his face when he was thrown down!”

Suibian knew very well where he’d been thrown down, even if Wen Chao had not bragged about it as he attempted to wield her, she knew well the cold mountain of pressure that valley chasm of darkness held upon a soul. She could feel its icy suffocating embrace surrounding Wei Ying’s very soul every time she desperately squeezed herself through to feel him. 

“He’ll never get to stand up so arrogantly ever again! Our boss is the best, he—”

Suibian ignored the fools as she suddenly felt a familiar spiritual energy, Wei Ying’s spiritual energy, around her. 

An impossible thing, unless…

She cared not for the Lan asshole, reaching to devour not just sword spirits but the very spirits of those gossiping Wens which had been released from their flesh. She cared not as they tied two up and asked after Wei Ying’s whereabouts.

No, her focus was one that familiar spark of Zidian and the energy that should no longer exist. Her senses told her that Wei Ying was here, but she knew. She knew he wasn’t. And she hated what that meant. 

Soon, the Swords were being dug through, and she had the great displeasure of hearing that idiotic Sandu.

The familiar grating voice of her wielder’s ward, echoing in across her blade in a way it had no right too. A way that had increased the dread pooling within her blade. 

“Lan-er-gongzi…” It took great effort to allow some unknown Lan to hold her, done solely until she was passed into the Jiang’s hands who’d promptly return her to Wei Ying. “This one belongs to Wei-gongzi.”

As the Lan asshoel approached, Bichen was growling warning at her. The pretentious sword spirit had been irritatingly vocal in his disapproval of her new path, as if the sword had any right. Suibian wasn’t like that thing, she didn’t care what she needed to become to assist her wielder.

For whatever remained of her wielder’s claim upon the other as a friend, Suibian did not burn him for reaching out to take her from the other Lan Disciple.

Such restraint was immediately abandoned the second the bastard dared tried to unsheathe her. Bichen responding to protect his wielder from her a second to late.

She clattered to the floor, ignoring Bichen’s curses. She’d barely managed to even strike the Second Jade’s meridians, so his hands were only a bit burned. The Lan sword was making a big deal over nothing. 

So distracted by the swords rants she missed the approach of the Jiang, and as that callused hand picked her up she screamed.

Allowing the resentment she’d spent this isolation cultivating to flow freely from her sheath lashing out at the Wen Corpses and structure because Wei Ying would not forgive her for hurting the innocent Lans and Jiang Wanyin.

Why? Why? Why? Why? She knew. She knew. She’d guessed it the second she’d heard the Jiang heir lost his core, that Sandu’s spirit had weakened before suddenly shorting up in strength. Sandu had never felt so loud in her mind. 

For all she knew, nothing could prepare her for the way her senses lied to her. For the energy and golden core Wei Ying and her had spent so long building now anchored in the body of someone she despised. 

This wasn’t her Wei Ying. Her Wei Ying was fighting an entire mountain of dead. Her Wei Ying was days away desperately trying to figure out how to use resentment so he could return. 

Her resentment surged to a level she’d not yet been able to reach at the contrast between her knowledge and what her senses said. 

Not a minute later, everything faded into darkness.