[He tracks Wen Chao and his personal guard to an isolated compound in a remote mountain in rural Japan. From the looks of it, they'd secured the location as some sort of safehouse long ago, likely anticipating the legal fallout from what they'd done and assuming they could ride out the storm there. The Wen connections run deep—deep enough that Wei Ying knows they will never face justice within the legal system—but inquiries will still be made and investigation teams will go through the motions. Of course they'd want to lie low during the mess of aftermath.
In a year, the investigation will close; the evidence "inconclusive." The massacre at Lotus Pier will be known only as the tragic slaughter of a prominent family at the hands of a vicious street gang out to prove some kind of point. Any connections to the Wen family name will have faded into rumors by then.
But none of that matters to Wei Ying. He'd stopped looking to the legal system for any kind of real justice a long time ago.
Now he stands in front of their safehouse, his lips pulled up into a mockery of his old smile. The fire licking away at the compound has been carefully contained by talismans and meticulously drawn arrays. The Wen will burn and suffer, but they will not take anyone else with them. Resentful energy curls lovingly around his fingers as they dance along his flute, shrill notes filling the night with eerie music.
The guards are dead now, he knows, can feel their energy added to his power after each burns and dies. A merciful death for those who didn't deserve one, but his focus lies elsewhere.
Wei Ying stands in the long driveway of the compound as he plays, Wen Chao bloodied and burned but still breathing crawling before him on his hands and knees like a dog begging for scraps.]
Anything! I can get you anything you want! Please, please, I swear! I'll make you rich, I-I'll get you cars and houses, whatever you want!
[I want my family, Wei Ying does not say, intent on his playing. I want my shidi and shimei. I want to hear their laughter echoing through the halls while I sit with my stupid stubborn brother and he isn't bowed under the weight of the world. He does not waste his breath with these words that would be lost on Wen Chao.
Instead, he plays. He plays and a corpse hobbles out of the fire, intent on Wen Chao's huddled pathetic form. It doesn't take long for his begging to turn to screams, for those screams to turn to whimpers, and then for those whimpers to fade to nothing at all.
Chenqing falls to his side but Wei Ying does not move from his spot. He stands and watches it all burn.]
no subject
In a year, the investigation will close; the evidence "inconclusive." The massacre at Lotus Pier will be known only as the tragic slaughter of a prominent family at the hands of a vicious street gang out to prove some kind of point. Any connections to the Wen family name will have faded into rumors by then.
But none of that matters to Wei Ying. He'd stopped looking to the legal system for any kind of real justice a long time ago.
Now he stands in front of their safehouse, his lips pulled up into a mockery of his old smile. The fire licking away at the compound has been carefully contained by talismans and meticulously drawn arrays. The Wen will burn and suffer, but they will not take anyone else with them. Resentful energy curls lovingly around his fingers as they dance along his flute, shrill notes filling the night with eerie music.
The guards are dead now, he knows, can feel their energy added to his power after each burns and dies. A merciful death for those who didn't deserve one, but his focus lies elsewhere.
Wei Ying stands in the long driveway of the compound as he plays, Wen Chao bloodied and burned but still breathing crawling before him on his hands and knees like a dog begging for scraps.]
Anything! I can get you anything you want! Please, please, I swear! I'll make you rich, I-I'll get you cars and houses, whatever you want!
[I want my family, Wei Ying does not say, intent on his playing. I want my shidi and shimei. I want to hear their laughter echoing through the halls while I sit with my stupid stubborn brother and he isn't bowed under the weight of the world. He does not waste his breath with these words that would be lost on Wen Chao.
Instead, he plays. He plays and a corpse hobbles out of the fire, intent on Wen Chao's huddled pathetic form. It doesn't take long for his begging to turn to screams, for those screams to turn to whimpers, and then for those whimpers to fade to nothing at all.
Chenqing falls to his side but Wei Ying does not move from his spot. He stands and watches it all burn.]