Knowing where Duoming Ridge was, Lang Jiuchuan and Gong Qi wasted no more time. They bid farewell to the presiding monk Xuanneng and set off in that direction.
As luck would have it, Gong Si had also sent a message through a sound-transmission talisman to Gong Qi, saying he had already located the two-sided Blade Mountain from within the painting, and that they were now searching for traces of the jiangshi.
“Cong Bian’s scheme runs deep. The fact that he dared use his own flesh and blood for this grand design shows that this one called Cong Gui is no simple creature. Having spent these years as a jiangshi, feeding on the vital essence and souls of so many women — he won’t be easy to deal with. Tell them to be extremely careful in all things.” Lang Jiuchuan said to Gong Qi.
Gong Qi gave a small nod, then noticing her pale complexion, said: “How about you stay behind? First you pried into the future and suffered the backlash, then you’ve been fighting one battle after another without a moment’s rest. Too much of anything is harmful — your little life matters.”
Lang Jiuchuan felt a warmth stir in her chest. “I won’t be at peace unless I watch it be killed with my own eyes. Better to see things through from start to finish. Don’t worry — I’ll just watch you all fight.”
Jiangche silently added: If they can’t finish her off, I’ll deliver the final blow!
Gong Qi cast a sidelong glance at him — something about those words didn’t sit quite right.
But now was not the time to dwell on that. They still had to get to Duoming Ridge first. The journey was long, and it seemed they had no choice but to travel by ordinary roads.
Gong Qi took out everything on his person — talismans, incense sticks, fiery strong liquor, a spirit-summoning scroll, and stacks of paper ingots folded in gold — preparing to invite the Yin soldiers to help clear the path.
“Let’s go.”
“Hold on, let me summon someone to open the way first—” Gong Qi turned his head, and the words died abruptly in his throat. He stared at Lang Jiuchuan and a listless, droopy ghost runner standing beside her, his expression exactly like someone who had just seen a ghost.
The ghost runner lifted one eyelid and gave him a look, then glanced at the items laid out before him. A flicker of greed crossed his eyes, and his expression softened slightly.
Just look at that — now THIS is how you properly invite a Yin soldier. Not like some clueless person who just casually slashes open a path with a writing brush and drags a poor wretch like him into service without so much as a stick of incense, let alone wine — stingy beyond belief.
Lang Jiuchuan also looked at the items Gong Qi had laid out, and immediately understood his meaning. “Since you’ve prepared all this, go ahead and burn it for him — consider it a toll for the road.”
The ghost runner, wearing a white hat inscribed with the words “No Return,” heard this and smiled until his eyes curved into crescents. He rubbed his hands together and said, “Oh, there’s no need for that, how could I possibly accept—”
“If you don’t want it, fine. Then let’s move. Time waits for no one!”
No Return: “!”
Does she have any idea what polite refusal means?
He wanted to put on a stern face, but then he saw her spinning the Panguan brush through her fingers like a flower, and his throat seized — he didn’t dare make a sound.
Gong Qi suppressed a laugh, quickly took out a ritual talisman, and burned the incense and other offerings for this aggrieved, nearly tearful friend known as No Return, saying: “Many thanks, Brother Runner.”
The ghost runner, now well-appeased, felt a warmth settle in his heart. Now see — this is how things ought to be done. The young man really knows how to treat people. He replied in a low, hollow voice: “Let’s get on the road then.”
Gong Qi promptly agreed. Seeing Lang Jiuchuan’s complexion still pale, he reached into his robe and pulled out a porcelain bottle, tipping it — only two medicinal pills remained.
He hesitated for a moment, kept one, and handed the other to Lang Jiuchuan: “Take it quickly. There’s no telling whether we’ll face a hard battle ahead.”
Lang Jiuchuan had already caught his movements from the corner of her eye all along. She raised an eyebrow. “These pills are for your own protection, aren’t they? There are only two left and you’re giving one to me — what will you do if you need it and don’t have enough?”
“Quit fussing.” Gong Qi took her hand and pressed the pill into her palm. “My senior brother Gong Si has a solid grasp of the healing arts — with him around, I’ll be fine. More pills are already being prepared back at the clan. Don’t worry — the Gong Family isn’t without resources.”
Lang Jiuchuan glanced at his soul-binding chain, which looked somewhat dulled and listless from traces of demonic energy. “I can see that.”
Gong Qi grinned, tucked the porcelain bottle back into his robe, then asked: “Why are you carrying that clay figurine and that yellow silk book?”
Lang Jiuchuan pocketed the pill he had given her. “Cong Bian has planned for every contingency — he even calculated the precise hour for the evil creature’s descent into the world. So the advantage of timing belongs to him. In that case, I’ll ruin his timing.”
Gong Qi turned the meaning of those words over in his mind. “Do you mean destroy the figurine, or alter the eight-character birth decree? Can it actually be done?”
“We’ll try.” Lang Jiuchuan swung her small bundle. “A jiangshi dwells underground for years, unable to bear light. Even the hour of its investiture was chosen at the most yin hour — midnight — which shows it fears light and the pure Yang energy. I’ll change it to the hour when Yang energy is at its peak and force it out. That way we gain some advantage for ourselves.”
Gong Qi was silent for a long moment, then said: “When it comes to leaving nothing to chance, it still has to be you.”
“Not at all.” Lang Jiuchuan swayed her small bundle. “Everything in this world is fated in its own way — we’ve merely seized upon that one thread of opportunity.”
The ghost runner No Return, walking ahead to clear the path, listened to the conversation of the two behind him and felt somewhat noncommittal. If one were to call it fate, it would be more fitting to call it a variable.
The careless young woman at the back — she was the greatest variable in this place. Not just for that so-called evil creature, but for everyone here!
She had returned. And with her return, this realm now had its variable.
Duoming Ridge.
Cong Jinnian’s heart was uneasy. When he arrived at the cave where the patriarch had been hiding, all he found was the patriarch’s lifeless corpse, utterly devoid of any presence. His face changed instantly, and he immediately erected an altar to summon the soul.
Yet there was not a single stir of movement.
How could this be?
Cong Jinnian was shaken to his core. Even the patriarch’s soul was gone — had it been bound, or had it been destroyed?
Who in the world would have the power to accomplish such a thing?
And what were they to do now on their end?
With their helmsman gone, Cong Jinnian stumbled about like a fly without a head. After a long while, he drew a deep breath, steadied himself, searched the cave thoroughly, then hurried over to where Princess Zhao’an was.
Princess Zhao’an lay on the bamboo bed, arms wrapped around her enormous belly, letting out low, muffled moans. At the sound of movement, she trembled and forced her eyes open — only to see the jiangshi, swathed entirely in black robes, standing at the bedside, staring unblinkingly at her belly. Then it crouched down, and a hand reached toward her abdomen.
Princess Zhao’an felt her hair stand on end. Her entire body went rigid. Her throat let out a muffled sound, and tears slid down from the corners of her eyes.
“Ngh.” The jiangshi opened its mouth. The gesture looked as though it was trying to call out to its mother, but its throat creaked and rattled, its voice both coarse and hoarse, the syllables utterly unclear.
Yet that one sound, indistinct as it was, sent Princess Zhao’an into overwhelming terror. Her heart clenched and then gave way, and immediately a wrenching pain seized her abdomen, and something below her loosened.
Drip. Drip.
Water trickled down from the bamboo bed and fell onto the floor.
The jiangshi stared at the spreading trail of water with a blank expression, then looked back at the person on the bed. She had already fallen into unconsciousness. It was at a loss, and straightened up, craning its neck to look.
When Cong Jinnian returned, he saw the jiangshi leaning over Princess Zhao’an. From where he stood, the creature’s back looked as though it was about to drink the blood from her neck and devour her soul.
His face drained of colour. He immediately unhooked the hand bell at his waist and shook it hard. “By the light of Heaven and Earth — Cong Gui, heed my command.”
The piercing ring of the bell rang out through the small room. The jiangshi’s entire body went rigid, as though it had been conditioned through countless repetitions, and it stood upright. A pair of eyes, black as a deep and lightless abyss, fixed themselves on Cong Jinnian.
Cong Jinnian drew a slow, deep breath. “Wait a little longer. It is not yet time.”
Then he felt something was off. He walked to the bedside, and with a small tap, his foot stepped into the trail of water on the floor. He froze. He looked at Princess Zhao’an — her face ashen, the silken skirt beneath her soaked through — and his expression darkened.