Gong Qi stared in astonishment at the Crimson Flame Soul-Locking Chain in his hand, then looked at the Dizhong that Lang Jiuchuan had recalled and re-hooked at her waist — ancient and unassuming in appearance. The chain in his grip trembled faintly, his fingers tightening.

He looked at the hanged ghost in her hand, then fixed his gaze rigidly on the Dizhong she had hung back at her waist, and asked in a dry voice, “What spiritual treasure is that?”

Its power was immense enough that even his Soul-Locking Chain bowed before it and could not hold its ground against it. And it looked so utterly ordinary.

Lang Jiuchuan shot him a sideways glance. “What’s it to you?”

She turned and looked at the still-trembling hanged ghost. “How did you get over here? If I hadn’t acted quickly, your soul would have been scattered.”

The hanged ghost cast a terrified glance at the Soul-Locking Chain in Gong Qi’s hand, then shrank back behind her and said, “Shopkeeper Piao told me to come find you. He said there’s a folk history he wants you to come and look at — something about a demonic evil.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes brightened. “I’ll head over right away.”

“I’ll be going first.” The hanged ghost didn’t want to linger here for even a moment longer. Heavens have mercy on him — he’d nearly been frightened out of existence. He’d barely escaped with no way back.

“Go on, I’ll be there shortly.” Lang Jiuchuan waved him off.

Without even a parting word, the hanged ghost greased the soles of his feet and bolted, terrified that if he stayed any longer, he’d be locked in that Soul-Locking Chain and burned until there was nothing left of him.

Gong Qi was astonished all over again. He looked at Lang Jiuchuan. “You also command ghosts?”

“Don’t talk nonsense — didn’t you hear? He came to deliver a message.” Lang Jiuchuan looked at him and said, “Speaking of which — how many people in the Gong Family are born with Heavenly Eyes like you?”

Gong Qi was thrown off by the question. “Heavenly Eyes are just so easy to come by? You think everyone has them? It comes down to one’s constitution and bloodline. And what about you — were you born able to see these Yin entities?”

Lang Jiuchuan answered obliquely: “The hanged ghost just said there’s a folk history related to demonic evils. I need to go take a look. Are you coming?”

Gong Qi had been investigating ancient tombs every day and asking little ghosts for information about Corpse Fiends and demon beasts, all to no avail. He was going mad with frustration — wasn’t that precisely why he’d come to find Lang Jiuchuan, looking for a new angle?

Now hearing that there was a folk history involving demonic evils, regardless of whether it was related, he’d look at it first. There might be an unexpected gain.

Only — the one who had sent word to her was the shopkeeper of Tongtian Pavilion?

Gong Qi looked at Lang Jiuchuan with a peculiar expression, unsure what to say.

“What?” Lang Jiuchuan said, “Let me be clear upfront — this information was purchased as a contribution toward your Mystic Clan’s efforts. You’re paying the intelligence fee.”

Gong Qi: “……”

He stared at the bold, upright characters of “Tongtian Pavilion” on the signboard, yet somehow the letters felt like snarling beasts gnashing their teeth and roaring at him. By the time he came back to his senses, Lang Jiuchuan had already walked inside.

Wait — what had she just said? He was to pay the intelligence fee? He’d followed her here to listen in on the information. How had he ended up as the one paying?

Had he just been cleanly fleeced?

A’Piao’s gaze toward Gong Qi was not exactly friendly — it even carried a note of haughtiness and hostility. This struck Lang Jiuchuan as somewhat unexpected, but now was not the time to probe into that.

She looked at A’Piao and asked, “What folk history is important enough to make you take it this seriously?”

A’Piao led her upstairs. Gong Qi trailed along behind her like a guard escort, following them up, earning himself a look of disdain from A’Piao as he did.

Lang Jiuchuan found it all increasingly peculiar.

Once seated in the private room, A’Piao placed a yellowed volume of folk history before her and said, “After what you told me before, I carefully thought back through everything I’ve encountered over the years, and this folk history came to mind. Take a look.”

He opened the book and flipped directly to the page marked with a bamboo slip. Tapping it, he said, “Whether it’s related to what you described, I can’t say for certain. Consider it an addition to your knowledge.”

Lang Jiuchuan looked over at it and let out a soft sound of surprise.

“What is it?”

“Don’t ask about the Daoist title — I also read a collection of strange records he wrote at Huguo Temple’s scripture hall. All sorts of curious tales, though the writing style was rather erratic, and some accounts were hard to tell as fact or fiction.” Lang Jiuchuan looked at the page. Above it was written: “A Yin-Yang Being Born of Evil,” with the pen name “Biewen” signed beneath.

Was this not what was meant by the idea that all things are fated? She had now encountered the strange records written by this Daoist friend not once, but twice. This one certainly knew a great many things.

She gazed at the text, her eyes narrowing slightly. The writing here was considerably more precise and formal than the previous collection of strange records.

“In history there existed a practitioner of the Devil’s Path by the name of Kong Jin, who, in order to refine an evil corpse, tortured living people to death. He waited until their resentment rose to its utmost peak, then drove soul-suppression nails into the seven orifices, locking the soul and sealing the vital essence, so that the fierce resentment would not disperse. He wrapped the corpse in corpse-binding talismans, placed it in a coffin, sealed the coffin with lime to prevent the body from rotting over the years, and stored it in a place of extreme Yin and deathly malice, using the Yin to nourish the coffin…”

Lang Jiuchuan’s expression grew unsightly. This was so detailed — it read no differently from a genuinely forbidden technique.

“Over the years, as the flesh and blood gradually wasted away while the extreme Yin energy provided nourishment, fangs grew forth, and the Corpse Fiend was formed. When fed the blood of a person of complete Yin, one could choose a day to proceed — awakening its primordial soul, allowing it to couple with a woman of pure Yin, and plant within her a pure Yin fetus.”

Lang Jiuchuan felt her stomach lurch. “……”

“When the fetus matured, the Corpse Fiend’s primordial soul and Yin essence would leave the corpse and enter the fetus. On a Yin day and Yin hour, the infant would be born into the world — a being of extreme ferocity and evil, a Yin-Yang Being that does not enter the cycle of reincarnation, is untouched by cause and effect, neither ages nor dies, and causes the laws of morality and order to collapse. As for the Corpse Fiend, it would be reduced to a puppet corpse-general, guarding and serving at the Yin-Yang Being’s side.”

Crack.

Lang Jiuchuan snapped the book shut, her face white as snow.

What kind of hellish forbidden technique was this? How could such a forbidden technique have existed throughout history?

Gong Qi had been reading along over her shoulder and was already stricken with shock. He snatched the book and opened it again, reading from beginning to end once more. In a low voice, he said, “This — this is clearly a complete forbidden technique. How did it end up in a folk history like this?”

What was a forbidden technique? It was one that upended moral order and violated the heavenly way — one that was prohibited from being practiced and was rarely ever made public knowledge. Yet here it was, laid out in brazen detail in a folk history. If someone with ulterior motives read this, would it not be handing them a complete blueprint for walking the path of deviltry and evil?

“What’s so strange about that? If it appeared in history, it was recorded, and records will always circulate. Does prohibition mean it can truly be suppressed?” A’Piao shot him a contemptuous sideways glance and said, “The Mystic Clans also harbor quite a few forbidden techniques, don’t they? Wasn’t it just a few years ago that someone among you violated the forbidden arts and captured ghosts to smelt some Blood-Evil Willow Ghost Fan?”

The mockery and disdain were utterly undisguised.

Gong Qi pressed his lips together and said, “The one you speak of has already been stripped of his cultivation.”

A’Piao let out a dismissive snort, wholly unimpressed.

Lang Jiuchuan said, “This forbidden technique is vile and terrifying beyond measure. And moreover — to refine such a creature of fierce evil, how much time would it take? Is there truly someone capable of waiting that long?”

“The human heart grows fickle, and there will always be those who are obsessive and single-minded. Just think — a being utterly ferocious and evil that is immune to karmic rebound, and that does not enter the cycle of reincarnation? Allow it to grow, and what power would it wield? And then there is a puppet corpse-general to accompany it — this combination is like a pair of supreme instruments of destruction.” A’Piao looked at Gong Qi pointedly, with unmistakable implications in his words. “There are those who, to consolidate their own power, stop at nothing and will not rest until their goal is achieved. Possessing a weapon like this — they could dominate everything. A wait of mere decades, or even a century, would mean nothing. What matters most is the clan’s continued flourishing, isn’t it?”

Gong Qi’s face went faintly green. Why is he looking at me? His bias against the Mystic Clans — he isn’t even bothering to hide it anymore?