( Lockwood has already handled the warnings, and Wei Wuxian sees no reason or purpose in repeating what should be obvious. It doesn't mean people won't be fools, he's well used to that factual truth, but it does save him some effort at attempting to explain that some things are not to be messed with: let the others be bothered by a young man offering guidance, because their own eyes and sense of self-preservation means they won't challenge him regardless.

He steps in front of Lockwood, eyes skimming the ground. The cracks themselves are as if the earth has shoved up and dropped back down, or the mould grown through to critical mass and forced the earth to part, or sunken into the crevasses to fill them like the waters of a weeping sky might. Point to fact: )

Watch my back.

( He can and will guide through on careful steps, scanning the area. There's more to see in what is the undeniable destruction, the annihilation, of all that grew in this clearing: the death of the land and everything on or above it, everything below. The lumberjacks too, but missing, yet not unmarked. He glances at the packs they pass, lips thinned, bow slung over his shoulder. He wants his hands ready for Chenqing if he needs it, the greater focal point of his flute a strong weapon against the deads of these lands, albeit not infallible.

When he stops, he's by a paper strewn on the ground, stark white, bone white, against the dead earth. )

They died here, and so did the whole of this place. Maybe their notes will mention what happened before... if that's even what these papers are.