When Shen Qinghe returned, he had gathered everything Lang Jiuchuan had requested. There were several finger-shaped marks on his face, but everyone pretended not to notice.

The cinnabar came from the temple’s talisman-drawing stores — not the finest quality, but free of impurities. The ash from before the Buddha was held in a small porcelain dish, taken from the incense burner directly in front of the Shakyamuni Buddha at the center of the Grand Hall. That spot saw the most worshippers kneeling and offering prayers, making the incense fire vigorous and the power of devotion abundant.

Lang Jiuchuan then had someone bring mountain spring water from within the temple, poured it into a bowl, and mixed in the sacred ash, stirring until the water turned cloudy. She looked at Shen Qinghe. “Except for you and your wife, everyone else may leave. There is no need to remain here.”

The others looked to Shen Qinghe, and upon seeing him nod, they hurriedly withdrew.

Having prepared the spring water mixed with the sacred ash, Lang Jiuchuan personally ground the cinnabar into a liquid. She then cleansed her hands and lit incense, formed an intricate hand seal with both hands, and directed it onto the dish of cinnabar liquid.

Shen Qinghe and his wife watched from the side with bated breath, exchanging a glance. They thought to themselves that it all looked rather convincing.

Jiang Che, however, was different. This was the first time it had witnessed Lang Jiuchuan casting a technique. It had started out watching with the attitude of let me see how you put on a flashy performance — but as Lang Jiuchuan’s fingers wove the seal, its eyes went wide.

Her fingers were nimble and swift, the tips carrying a faint golden light invisible to ordinary eyes, moving so fast they became golden afterimages. When she finally directed the seal onto the cinnabar liquid, the originally dark crimson liquid transformed into a golden-red fluid, pure and righteously suffused with the essence of the Dao.

Shen Qinghe watched, the meaning behind his eyes unreadable.

Madam Shen clutched her handkerchief tightly, her face revealing a flash of shock.

This was far too uncanny.

Shen Peng, seated on the bed, grew visibly restless, as though suppressing something with great effort, his hands clenched into fists.

The specially prepared cinnabar liquid was ready. Lang Jiuchuan flipped her right hand, and the jade-bone talisman brush materialized in her grasp.

The moment it appeared, Jiang Che reined in its presence, not daring to cause trouble.

With a single movement of her will, Lang Jiuchuan’s supreme Dao intent descended onto the brush. She dipped it in the cinnabar liquid and began tracing over the existing talisman lines on the paper.

The golden light sank into the talisman lines and vanished in an instant.

Jiang Che: “……”

She really does know how to repurpose things — reworking someone else’s talisman by adding and removing strokes. Tsk, she even saved herself a fresh sheet of paper.

Lang Jiuchuan’s full attention was devoted to the talisman drawing, so she naturally had no idea what Jiang Che was grumbling about internally. And even if she had known, she would have said only one thing: what’s wrong with repurposing it? Not wasting a single talisman that still has some use left in it — was she wrong?

This is called being frugal. It is a virtue!

The talisman paper was perfected. With a flash of golden light, the talisman transformed entirely, overflowing with spiritual energy and an imposing, awe-inspiring might.

The corner of Lang Jiuchuan’s lips curved slightly. Not bad. Quite perfect.

She released her posture. Her spiritual core was somewhat exhausted, and her complexion grew even paler than before — her spiritual power barely managed to sustain the concealment technique.

Her body was failing her, her soul incomplete, and yet she had exerted herself to perform such intricate ritual work to draw the talisman. It had, all things considered, been taxing.

Jiang Che was deeply worried. “Are you alright? Don’t try to catch the chicken and end up losing the grain — the person isn’t saved yet and you go and keel over first.”

Sensing the fluctuation in her spiritual power, Jiang Che felt the bargain had tilted out of their favor.

Oh, it felt absolutely none of that earlier surge of heartfelt emotion now. This was literally gambling with her life!

It suddenly understood why Lang Jiuchuan had said that reviving her body was her foremost priority.

If she doesn’t survive, everything else is pointless!

And for her to ask for compensation — that was entirely reasonable. A merchant doesn’t give away goods for free. And this was a matter of life and death!

“Is it done?” Madam Shen walked over and looked at the talisman resting on the table, even her breathing grown quiet.

How to describe it — the paper itself was old, and the original talisman lines had been completely overwritten by new ones. By all reasoning, if the paper was worn, the talisman as a whole ought to look worn too. Yet the one before her eyes was different.

It was undeniably old paper, and yet those talisman characters, seemingly suffused with golden light, inspired in the onlooker a feeling of reverence and calm — as though every fear and confusion had been pressed down, leaving only peace and ease.

Madam Shen didn’t even dare to reach out and touch it.

Lang Jiuchuan said, “Perform the exorcism rite, and it will be done.”

She rose to her feet, her head slightly dizzy. Her body swayed, and she steadied herself against the table, exhaling softly.

Jiang Che saw this and, in a moment of conscience, generously offered up some of its own devotional power for Lang Jiuchuan to draw upon — after all, they were both unfortunate souls on the same boat, and it couldn’t let the boat sink.

“Are you alright?” Madam Shen anxiously reached out to support her.

Everyone present had seen Lang Jiuchuan’s complexion. After drawing a single talisman, she looked even more feeble than before — clearly her strength was spent.

She mustn’t be allowed to come to harm. Otherwise, what would become of Shen Peng?

Shen Qinghe stepped outside and instructed someone to bring ginseng slices. His son was recuperating here, and such valuable medicinal herbs were always kept on hand.

“It’s nothing.”

Lang Jiuchuan gave Jiang Che a thumbs-up in appreciation for the teammate’s contribution. Quickly, she used the remaining cinnabar to draw an array in front of the Medicine King Bodhisattva statue, had Shen Peng sit within the formation, and placed three oil lamps inside it, representing Shen Peng’s three life flames.

“This much trouble — just for being possessed?” Jiang Che sensed something wasn’t quite right.

Lang Jiuchuan replied, “The malevolent energy has taken root in his spiritual court and grown into something of its own. Moreover, the evil energy carries traces of devotional power — it is no ordinary malevolent spirit. To deal with it, one naturally cannot be careless.”

Jiang Che was startled. “Can it truly be the mountain god causing this?”

The people of the village had spoken of offering sacrifices to the mountain god, and with devotional power involved, what else could it be?

“Mountain gods born of heaven and earth’s spiritual energy rarely become evil entities — unless something has changed. Without having gone to see for myself, I cannot make a definitive judgment. I can only say it is more troublesome than an ordinary malevolent spirit.”

To nearly exhaust a person’s vital fortune through a mere trinket as medium proved it had grown into something of consequence.

Jiang Che listened, hesitated for a while, then said, “This deal — are we coming out the worse for it?”

A mere ten years of lifespan — even the lifespan of a virtuous person rich in divine merit seemed unlikely to offset everything she had done.

“Too much of anything causes its own harm. That I could be reborn is already defying the heavens — defying fate itself. To be greedy and forcibly seize another’s lifespan, whether I could withstand the consequences is uncertain. And the souls in the Underworld would also be implicated.”

Jiang Che squinted at her. “Didn’t expect you to be someone who understands gratitude.”

A salute.

“Mostly, I just don’t want to die again after having died once. It’s a bit exhausting.”

Jiang Che: “!”

It immediately withdrew that salute. It had overestimated her.

Lang Jiuchuan said no more. She lit three incense sticks, held them before her forehead, and bowed three times to the Medicine King Bodhisattva statue. In truth, had her soul been whole and her body healthy, she would have had no need to borrow the power of a deity. But she was frail in body and incomplete in soul — so what choice did she have?

Asking the god for incense is one thing. She could ask.

She took the Dizhong bell from her waist, formed a technique seal, and the bell rang out — like a thunderclap, shaking all four directions.

Shen Qinghe and Madam Shen both started, eyes going wide. That utterly unremarkable little bell — they had assumed it was merely a worthless decorative trinket, without even a striking hammer, and yet it had produced this earth-shattering sound.

As for Shen Peng — he had been sitting calmly one moment, but the instant the bell rang, he let out a shriek. His face contorted hideously. He lunged toward Lang Jiuchuan — but the cinnabar array flashed with golden light, making him recoil in alarm. He glared at Lang Jiuchuan, screaming curses in a voice raspy and neither male nor female: “You vile wretch — how dare you ruin my plans!”