Boom!

A thick plume of black smoke erupted from the ground. Mingda had already used the technique to slip away under the cover of the smoke — but before he could escape the courtyard, Jiangche intercepted him and snatched him up by the collar, shaking him lightly in midair.

Clumps of dirt rained from his body.

Mingda: “!”

Thud.

Jiangche dropped him onto the ground and drifted over to perch atop Lang Jiuchuan’s head, spitting downward with contempt: “We’d been watching for exactly this trick, you mangy Daoist.”

From the moment Lang Jiuchuan had appeared, the two of them had already formed a shared plan through their spiritual platform — guard against a cornered dog lashing out, or attempting to flee. They had woven a net with no way out. Jiangche had used its lethal aura to seal off the entire courtyard — above, below, and every corner — while Lang Jiuchuan had prepared a Heaven’s Net Earth’s Snare Talisman for him in advance.

One did not fight a battle unprepared. No wonder she had taken so long to arrive.

Mingda raised his head in a wretched heap, his eyes murky and unreadable, grinding his teeth. “What do you intend to do?”

Lang Jiuchuan picked up a shattered cloth doll head from the ground — the strip of paper still attached to it, written in cinnabar, clearly marked with her year of birth. “Who ordered you to act against Lang Jiuchuan?”

Named, year given — the intent was unmistakable. This had been aimed directly at her.

Something flashed through Lang Jiuchuan’s mind — a flicker she could not quite catch. Her brow gave a small twitch. She pressed the oddity down and kept her gaze fixed on the Daoist before her.

Mingda said, “Nonsense. I am a practitioner of the orthodox path. I would never be ordered by—Aah!”

A surge of ferocious energy came crashing down on his head, and something pressed his face repeatedly into the ground. In no time at all, his face had swollen to the size and shape of a pig’s head.

Lang Jiuchuan gave Jiangche an approving nod.

When striking a person, always go for the face. Very tiger-like.

Jiangche preened with satisfaction, flicking its tail and licking its paw.

Mingda’s entire head was throbbing and numb, eyes squeezed into narrow slits. “You — you have gone too far.”

“I simply have no patience for nonsense. Speak — who was it?” Lang Jiuchuan looked down at him with a cold gaze. “You were capable of deploying the Thousand-Li Soul-Binding Art and nearly succeeded — which means you have genuine cultivation. You were taught by orthodox masters. I have heard that skilled wandering Daoist practitioners in this region have all been recruited by the major Xuan clans as disciples and elders. Could it be that you are one of them?”

Mingda’s composure shattered inwardly. This woman has a terrifyingly sharp mind.

He was about to argue back when Lang Jiuchuan spoke one word, lightly and casually: “Strike.”

Mingda: “?”

And then his face was slammed into the ground again by that surge of ferocious energy.

Mingda’s head spun in wave after wave of dizziness. Outrageous — this is absolutely outrageous.

“Now. Are you ready to tell the truth?”

That vicious demoness’s voice came from directly above.

Mingda raised a trembling hand. Fine — he would talk. Was he not allowed to talk?

Only then did Lang Jiuchuan signal Jiangche to stand down.

Mingda looked up. “I am—”

“Jiangche!” Lang Jiuchuan’s entire body snapped taut. She caught Jiangche’s spiritual consciousness, which had just come rushing toward her, and dove sideways with it.

Crash!

The courtyard was suddenly struck by a bolt of violet lightning, sending up smoke and flames.

Thunder and electrical arcs crackled through the courtyard. The impact rattled Lang Jiuchuan’s still-unstable soul. She whipped around to look.

Mingda — his entire body had been reduced to charred ash. In midair, fragments of a shattered soul flickered into existence for a brief moment, then vanished entirely.

Her eyes went cold and hard.

Soul scattered to the winds.

He had triggered a Soul-Devouring Betrayal Curse — someone had planted a forbidden curse on him. The moment he betrayed his master, it automatically called down a heavenly thunderbolt to devour his soul, reducing him to nothing.

Whoever had done this had spent a considerable hand.

The Xuan clans?

Lang Jiuchuan thought of how Mingda had visibly flinched when she had deliberately mentioned the Xuan clans recruiting him. He had almost certainly been one of those recruited wandering practitioners.

She just didn’t know which family’s man he had been.

Had Mingda even known he had a forbidden curse on him?

Now that he was dead, his soul utterly annihilated, there was no way to call it back and search through it. The lead was severed.

What a wretched start to the venture.

Noise was approaching from the distance — the sudden lightning bolt had likely startled a number of people nearby, who were now converging to see what had happened.

Time to go.

Lang Jiuchuan grabbed Jiangche, which she had pinned beneath her, and stood up, gathering her energy to leap over the wall.

Thud.

She face-planted.

She had forgotten — after using the Blood Fierce Destructive Curse earlier, her soul was still damaged. Her body was not operating at full capacity.

The Jiangche she had just flattened: “!”

Flattened again and again. What a miserable existence for a tiger.

Lang Jiuchuan braced herself against the wall and stood up. The impact to her chest hurt like she had been punched hard by someone.

Jiangche, watching her press her hand to her chest, muttered: “It wasn’t much to begin with. Hope you haven’t gone and flattened it.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s gaze of death fell upon it.

Jiangche retreated into the depths of the spiritual platform.

Lang Jiuchuan let out a cold snort and surveyed her surroundings. Just then, an underworld officer came drifting past the mouth of the alley, escorting a soul — and oh, wasn’t that a familiar face.

“Hey — you, the ghost officer, yes, you — give me a lift?”

The underworld officer: “…”

Why was it her again? How could the luck be this terrible?

Once Lang Jiuchuan hitched her ride along the spirit road back to the courtyard, she burned a few sticks of incense for the underworld officer who had just assisted her, then quietly slipped into her study and collapsed onto the small couch, closing her eyes to catch her breath.

Jiangche drifted back out. “What do we do? That wretched Daoist died so conveniently for himself — but you haven’t managed to find out anything.”

“Not entirely. It may well be a Xuan clan behind all this.” Lang Jiuchuan said. “I tested him about his origins, and his reaction wasn’t the kind one can fake — which shows he knew the Xuan clans’ methods well, and that he was likely one of those who had been recruited by them. Infuriating that he was struck into ash — and nothing was on him to indicate which family he served. We have no idea whose guest practitioner he was.”

“What about the ritual bell and the copper-coin sword?”

“Ritual bells and copper-coin swords like those can be found at any Daoist temple or shrine. Any practitioner probably has a copper-coin sword on them — the only question is how good the sword is. Far too common an object to serve as identification.”

Jiangche nodded. “I noticed that the incantation he chanted when he called down the lightning was also from orthodox Daoist tradition.”

“The Xuan clans most likely care about their reputation, and would therefore recruit primarily those of the orthodox path. Only someone desperate or not in their right mind would keep practitioners of deviant arts.” Lang Jiuchuan said quietly. “But that does not mean every orthodox practitioner follows an orthodox path. Look at him — he struck from a thousand li away, with no grudge between them, with every intention of destroying the soul. He was clearly following someone else’s orders.”

“If this really was a Xuan clan’s doing — you’ve recruited yourself a powerful enemy.” Jiangche was genuinely alarmed. “They couldn’t kill you in one attempt, so they’ll certainly have more tricks to come. After this, they’ll probably keep sending people one after another.”

“Knowing the original soul had already died with her soul unable to persist, they still came to trouble me — which tells you how deep their hatred ran. They could not stand for someone to walk around in her name.” Lang Jiuchuan let out a cold snort. “How interesting. If this truly was the Xuan clans’ doing — they kill and destroy souls, and still call themselves the righteous path?”

The thought alone brought her disgust to its peak.

Jiangche worried endlessly. “I’ve heard they’ve recruited no small number of truly capable people as disciples. That wretched Daoist was nothing to speak of — who’s to say there aren’t far more formidable ones waiting?”

Done for. From now on she would be a walking target with a death sentence nailed to her forehead.

“Compared to that, there is something else I find more curious.”

“Hmm?”

“The Thousand-Li Soul-Binding Art — he used the original soul’s birth date and hour. But it affected me as well. Which means that birth date and hour works for me too.” Lang Jiuchuan opened her eyes. “My true birth date and hour is most likely identical to the original soul’s.”