Winter. Snow fell in great drifts.
Gong Family Clan Estate.
Gong Qi, his aura of Yin energy not yet fully dispersed, stood in the Daoist courtyard of the Gong Family’s young master, gazing in a daze at the snow gathering on the hundred-year-old rare aloeswood tree in the courtyard.
Can we trust you? Can we trust the young master of the Gong Family?
The words Lang Jiuchuan had spoken when she pressed the painting of her glimpsed future into his hands — that tone carried anxiety, yet also hope, sincerity, and the air of someone staking everything on a single throw.
When she handed over that painting, she was gambling. Gambling on the hearts of him and the Gong Family — gambling, more deeply, on human nature itself.
Gong Qi lowered his head and looked at the sheet of paper in his hands, feeling it burn like something scalding.
After a long while, Gong Qi gave a self-deprecating smile. The crisis of trust in the Xuan Clan had come to this — even a young girl did not believe the Xuan Clan could conduct itself properly — and yet there were still not a few among the clans who remained blissfully unaware.
With a creak, a door was opened.
Crunch, crunch.
The sound of shoes pressing through snow — familiar footsteps quickly came to stand beside him, and stood alongside him in front of the aloeswood tree.
Gong Qi felt a warmth suddenly spread through him, the Yin chill he had carried back from the Yin Road swept away entirely, and he turned to look. “Thank you, Ninth Uncle.”
Before him stood a man of only twenty-seven or twenty-eight — clad in white robes, hair secured with a wooden pin, his features refined and elegant, his bearing other-worldly. It was none other than the current young master of the Gong Family: Gong Tinglan, whose Daoist title was Dingshen.
Gong Tinglan looked at him with a furrowed brow. “What important news could have made you burn your vital essence to borrow the Yin Road just to come back?”
In these times, spiritual energy in the world was sparse and depleted. To cultivate a great Dao and substantial conduct was no easy thing — beyond natural talent and comprehension, one also had to accumulate meritorious virtue, absorbing the Five Elemental forces of Heaven and Earth and integrating them thoroughly, only then could one’s cultivation and conduct advance.
Of the next generation of the Gong Family, Gong Qi alone possessed the purest Dao root and the sharpest comprehension — and yet he was lazy about cultivation, which was why he had been given the courtesy name Qinqian, in the hope that one day he might live up to it. His departure from the clan had also been his opportunity — he was fated to meet someone who would guide him, and walk the most righteous of paths.
Now, for the matter of this demonic evil, he had not hesitated to burn his vital essence to borrow passage from the Yin soldiers in order to return to the clan. The news must be of the utmost importance.
Thinking of what Gong Qi had mentioned before about reading the unofficial history, Gong Tinglan knew it was likely connected to that matter.
Gong Qi looked at his dark-ringed eyes and slightly pallid face, and smiled bitterly. “Has Ninth Uncle himself not also been pouring over historical records and consulting divinations without rest?”
Which was why just now, when he arrived and was told Gong Tinglan was in the midst of performing the Great Celestial Circuit and entering a meditative state, he had not dared to disturb him.
Gong Tinglan turned. “Come inside and speak. Your Yin aura is gone, but your fundamental vitality has still been injured — you must have a cup of medicinal talisman tea.”
Gong Qi followed behind him with great obedience.
Inside, warmth enveloped them.
Gong Tinglan’s room had few ornaments — it was a Daoist chamber of simple, refined elegance, and the objects placed within were mostly related to the Daoist arts. This was merely his regular living quarters; his proper Daoist chamber for contemplating the Dao contained its own more arcane arrangements.
A bowl of talisman tea carrying a medicinal fragrance was placed before Gong Qi.
Gong Qi picked it up, blew on it gently, and tipped it back in one go.
Gong Tinglan then took his wrist, placed two fingers on it, and took his pulse, frowning. “The middle of the month is near. Is your medicine still sufficient?”
Gong Qi patted his chest. “It is.”
Gong Tinglan released his hand. “You have expended your spiritual power — be careful about that when the time comes, and avoid unnecessary suffering.”
At those words, a bitter smile crossed Gong Qi’s face. “I fear there will truly be suffering to be had then — and not just for me. I mean for no small number of people in the Xuan Clan.”
His hand shifted slightly, and at last he passed the painting he had been gripping over. “Ninth Uncle, take a look.”
“What is this?” Gong Tinglan was somewhat puzzled as he accepted it and unfolded it. The moment he saw what was painted on the paper, his complexion changed dramatically, and his breath caught.
Small though the sheet of paper was, what was painted on it pulled the viewer directly into the scene it depicted.
A blood-red moon. Yin malevolent energy so dark and thick it seemed to congeal into black. A demon infant with blood-red eyes crawled out from its mother’s womb, still attached by the umbilical cord, raised its head and looked at all those present, and the corners of its mouth curled into a smile — eerie and sinister beyond measure.
Gong Tinglan’s eyes glazed over. It was as though he had stepped into the scene himself: the icy, bone-piercing Yin malevolence surrounded him on all sides and bored into his lungs, while in his ears what seemed like countless grieving souls howled in piercing, shrill cries.
He drew a sharp intake of breath. His eyes grew deep and still as dark water, and he asked, “Which fellow cultivator witnessed this?”
What is painted is what was seen.
The artistry of this painting might be called crude, but the mood and atmosphere leapt from the paper, pulling the viewer into its very midst — and it could even induce a vision-like trance, which showed that Daoist will had been poured into it. Such a level of Dao conduct and cultivation meant this could only be the work of a fellow practitioner.
And this scene — the painter must have witnessed it with their own eyes for it to have been painted this way. Moreover, the painting was being used as a form of narrative communication. Could the events it depicted not be connected to the matter of the demonic evil that had been plaguing them all so greatly of late?
“It is the ninth young miss of the Lang Family,” Gong Qi said, looking at the painting. “She used the Great Divination Yarrow Reading Technique to peer into the future and obtained this result.”
Gong Tinglan was suddenly struck with astonishment, and said with some disbelief, “She has this level of great ability?”
How could a person of such stature have no notable reputation, concealed so deeply?
“Ninth Uncle, now is not the time to discuss whether she possesses great ability — what matters is what this painting conveys.”
“It is my failing — I am too eager for such talent.” Gong Tinglan bowed his head to look again, and his gaze fell upon that malevolent demon infant, a heaviness settling in his heart. “If she truly has peered into the future, then this scene is sufficient to prove that the forbidden technique written in that unofficial history is real, and that the great endeavor is near completion. As for when this demonic evil will enter the world — did she say?”
“When the moon is full.”
Gong Tinglan’s expression changed again. There was so little time. “What are her instructions?”
Gong Qi said, “All of this begins and ends with the Corpse Fiend. When the Corpse Fiend reaches its fullness, its Yin vitality enters the fetus, the demonic evil is born, and the Corpse Fiend becomes a puppet. So to prevent the demonic evil from entering this world, the Corpse Fiend must first be killed.”
“That is the right reasoning.” Gong Tinglan spread the paper flat and pointed to the Corpse Fiend in the painting. “A Corpse Fiend is formed from a corpse — after years of absorbing the most extreme Yin energy from beneath the earth, if it died through a wrongful death, its malevolent force becomes even more ferocious. According to the unofficial historical records, if it has been coupling with women to plant a fetus, then it must have broken out of its coffin at least a year ago at minimum. During that time, there is no telling how much essence and soul energy it has fed upon, greatly increasing its power — which will make dealing with it all the more difficult.”
His brow furrowed in cold gravity. “She saw the scene at the moment of the demonic evil’s birth — meaning that location must be their hiding place. This mountain, with its distinctive shape, must be found as quickly as possible, so that we may encircle and destroy that Corpse Fiend. I will transmit the Black Xuan Order to each clan at once — this matter cannot be delayed.”
Gong Qi reached out and caught his sleeve, seeming about to say something yet hesitating.
“What is it?”
Gong Qi pressed his lips together. “When Lang Jiu gave me this painting, she asked me one thing — can she trust me? Can she trust the young master of the Gong Family?”
Gong Tinglan was taken aback. Gifted as he was with Dao root, astute and of the highest comprehension, he understood the meaning behind those words in an instant. His gaze was steady and resolute as he nodded. “She can trust us.”
Gong Qi smiled. He looked at this young uncle of his, not so many years his senior, and said, “That is what I told her as well. But Ninth Uncle — you and I can be trusted. What of the old hands in the clan? What of the other three clans? Once this demonic evil enters the world, it becomes an immortal, unkillable weapon that never enters the cycle of reincarnation. Can the Xuan Clan truly remain free of even the slightest greed for it? If they were to forcibly hold onto it, would you and I — along with the small number of younger generations who share our view — have the strength to stand against those elders who have long since been consumed by their attachment to power and position, unable to extricate themselves?”