Lang Jiuchuan walked out of Lang Zhengping’s study and made her way back to her courtyard in silence. Jiang Che suddenly sprang into view, crouching on her shoulder, and cast her a furtive, apprehensive glance.
“Speak if you have something to say.”
Jiang Che said, “The things you said to your eldest uncle — were you preparing to make a run for it at any time?”
“Run away from what?” Lang Jiuchuan looked utterly bewildered.
“You’ve now confirmed who your great enemy is. What comes next is obviously dismantling the Rong Family piece by piece. To avoid dragging the Lang Family into it, wouldn’t you just leave?” Jiang Che said, “You’re someone who says one thing on the outside but feels another on the inside. You seem to have no attachment to the Lang Family at all, but deep down — you wouldn’t just stand by and watch them be implicated because of you, would you?”
Lang Jiuchuan laughed coldly. “If you were my enemy and knew I was a thorn in your side, would you think about eliminating me? And to leave no loose ends — would you eliminate my entire family as well?”
Well, most likely yes. Though some might only go after the one who wronged them directly.
“Some might not, but the Rong Family would. Just look at everything they’ve done before — which of their actions didn’t drag the entire Lang Family into it?” Lang Jiuchuan said in a cold voice, “Not to mention everything else, but knowing clearly that I am not the original soul, they still went to such lengths to kill me — which shows just how much they despise and fear this body of mine. In their eyes, the Lang Family and I are one. If I run away, will the Lang Family really be safe? Not necessarily. Even if I completely severed all ties with the Lang Family, with that person’s petty and suspicious nature, she still wouldn’t be at ease.”
Jiang Che fell silent. If she were at ease, she would not have sent Clan Daoren against Lang Jiuchuan again and again. On New Year’s Eve, she had not even spared the innocent members of the Lang Family from consideration — otherwise, she would not have deployed such a vicious and underhanded technique.
Upon returning to the courtyard, Lang Jiuchuan instructed Jian Lan that she was going to enter a meditative cultivation state and was not to be disturbed. She then settled herself in the study.
She took out the half-portrait and gazed at the woman’s brows and eyes, her own brow creasing.
Jiang Che said, “They really are strange. They went through such a roundabout way to torture the original soul to death. If they had the ability to mislead people with illusions, why not go quietly? Why bother posing under someone else’s identity — it makes no sense.”
“Didn’t you say that among the hundreds in the Rong Family, only one lineage of Dao roots remains, and that they are now a declining force?” Lang Jiuchuan said, “Looking at the cultivation levels of the disciples they sent — they weren’t that difficult to deal with. Doesn’t that suggest that many of their disciples don’t have particularly high cultivation? Casting illusions also demands spiritual power and cultivation. To cast illusions over an entire manor full of people, the expenditure would be far from trivial. Or perhaps — they think too highly of themselves and didn’t feel it necessary to take it so seriously. After all, I was nothing but a castoff, little better than an orphan. If I truly vanished, it wouldn’t draw much attention. Going through the motions was good enough.”
“If it were me, I wouldn’t have entered the manor at all. I’d have had someone quietly abduct you from those around you. That would have been far harder to trace back to anyone. The way they did it only exposed a loose thread that someone could follow all the way back to them.” Jiang Che muttered.
Lang Jiuchuan said, “Even the most thorough plans have a gap. Who can know what she was thinking?”
Jiang Che hesitated, then said, “I’m not afraid of anything else — it’s just that this gap is so obvious. More than anything, I’m worried we might have the wrong person, the wrong target, and end up taking revenge on the wrong one. After all, people’s hearts are complicated.”
Lang Jiuchuan said, “Whether it’s her — once the person is found, there will be a way to know if there is a debt of life and fate between us. Don’t worry. Even though I’m anxious to settle the cause and effect of the original soul’s death, I won’t lose my reason and go into a frenzy — grabbing anyone I can find and slaughtering wildly. If I did that, I’d be incurring my own karmic debts.”
Jiang Che let out a breath of relief.
It had truly feared that this person would go mad and throw her life away without a care.
“Impatience ruins great schemes. As A’Piao said, the general direction has been found. From here, it’s a matter of careful planning. After all, now they are in the light, while I am in the shadow.” Lang Jiuchuan folded the portrait, her expression perfectly unhurried and composed.
No matter how urgent she felt, she would put her own preservation first. Even if the Rong Family was a declining force, she couldn’t bring them down all at once. She would take her time.
But whoever had ever laid a hand on this body of hers — she would not let a single one of them off.
Lang Jiuchuan sat down on the meditation cushion in the study and summoned the Little Nine Pagoda. With her hands forming seals, her entire primordial spirit entered the pagoda.
Revenge was not something that could be spoken of with words alone. To slaughter a pig, one must first sharpen the blade — and this blade of hers needed to be sharper still.
In the days that followed, Lang Jiuchuan either spent her time within the Little Nine Pagoda nurturing her soul and contemplating the Daoist and Buddhist teachings of the Arhat Luo, or she worked with a carving blade to inscribe the signboard sent by Zhuang Quanhai, or she processed medicinal materials to roll medicinal pills and refine soul incense.
The Little Nine Pagoda was a great treasure. It nurtured the soul while simultaneously allowing for cultivation and contemplation, causing her comprehension to advance by leaps and bounds.
While her world here was peaceful and serene, the world outside the Marquis’s estate — though still within the new year — was secretly churning with turbulence, as though a violent storm was sweeping in from all directions, leaving nothing undisturbed.
Shen Qinghe and Gong Qi felt as though they had been burning through sleepless nights until blisters formed at the corners of their mouths. The fanged evil creature had not been found, and yet the number of women who had gone missing continued to grow.
And the most important lead — the man named Zhuo Yu — had, just as Shen Qinghe was beginning to investigate him, died in his own study before anything could be uncovered. He left behind a letter of confession stating that it was he who had killed his legitimate wife Ding Suqiu, burned her body in the wilderness, and then, fearing exposure when her father came to his door, had schemed to frame his father-in-law. Unable to find peace day or night, he had taken his own life in atonement.
Yet who believed it? Others might, but Shen Qinghe did not, and neither did Gong Qi. If anything, they were more certain than ever that a powerful and unseen hand was stirring the situation from the shadows.
But with the chain of evidence laid out before them, even the location where the body had been burned was specified — the remains burned to white bones were found, and the handwriting in the confession letter was his — all they could do for now was file the case of Zhuo Yu as a suicide driven by guilt. As a result, Ding Mangu was at least released and cleared of charges.
Shen Qinghe spent the new year’s days lodged in the Court of Judicial Review, combing through the details of every missing woman’s case.
Gong Qi couldn’t hold back any longer and went to find Lang Jiuchuan.
Lang Jiuchuan had just sent people to deliver the newly carved signboard to the shop when she turned around to find Gong Qi staring at her with deep, dark circles under his eyes and an expression full of silent grievance.
She had been living quite well these past few days, hadn’t she? Not only had she put on a little weight, but her complexion had some color to it, her spirits were alert and lively. She looked frail, but no longer carried the look of someone who would die young.
“…Even that Zhuo Yu has been done away with. Do you have any other method?” Gong Qi asked. “The number of missing women keeps growing. If we don’t find something soon, that creature will only become harder to deal with.”
Lang Jiuchuan wasn’t sure what to say. “The Mystic Clans have deployed so many people, and you can’t find even a single clue?”
How useless.
“As you said — searching for a needle in the ocean.”
Lang Jiuchuan said mildly, “Searching for a needle in the ocean still requires a method. Are you simply incapable of spending the spiritual energy and cultivation required for divination, or are you simply unwilling?”
Gong Qi’s face darkened. “What do you mean by that?”
“After all, it does cost cultivation power to do so.” Lang Jiuchuan made no effort to hide the contempt threading through her words. “Wanting to protect one’s strength is understandable, I suppose.”
Gong Qi shot abruptly to his feet, his voice cold. “If you’re unwilling to help, you needn’t insult people so.”
He turned to leave, but then suddenly stopped. He yanked the Crimson Flame Soul-Locking Chain from his waist and sent it lashing toward the top of the wall. “What lurks there?!”
Lang Jiuchuan caught sight of it. Her expression changed in an instant. Without a second thought, she unhooked the Dizhong from her waist and deflected the Crimson Flame Soul-Locking Chain off course. Simultaneously, her Panguan brush flicked upward, and she snatched the hanged ghost at the top of the wall — who was trembling in terror — right into her hand. “It’s one of our own! Don’t kill by mistake!”