Are you keeping a ghost under your command?

The moment A’Piao said those words, Sheng Huai’an’s heart lurched and stammered in his chest, cold sweat breaking out across his body — especially when the other man then asked him to produce his spiritual instrument.

Under A’Piao’s knowing gaze, Sheng Huai’an felt as though a layer of skin had been stripped from him, leaving him naked and with nowhere to hide.

Tongtiange… possessed such capabilities.

“I — I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sheng Huai’an forced himself to appear calm. “My guards are waiting outside. I will take my leave.”

He managed not to say anything openly threatening. Before coming to Tongtiange, he had privately investigated its background — and while he had not uncovered much, he had learned that even royalty and high-ranking nobility would not dare come here to make trouble or act recklessly.

What was he, a celebrated scholar however revered, compared to those people?

Sheng Huai’an retreated in embarrassment, nearly fleeing as he left.

A’Piao did not stop him. He simply watched with a half-smile, eyes on the little paper figurine that clung to the hem of Sheng Huai’an’s robe, one foot peeking out.

Run — where could he possibly run to?

He walked into Lang Jiuchuan’s private room. “What ghost is he looking for? And how were you so certain he had one under his command?”

Lang Jiuchuan drew the remnant soul out from inside the Xiaojiu Pagoda. “The spiritual instrument in that Sheng Huai’an’s pouch carries this ghost’s soul-trace. Oh — I picked him up from that Sheng Huai’an’s anthology.”

A’Piao frowned. “A remnant soul — if you hadn’t found him, he would have dissipated by now, wouldn’t he.”

Lang Jiuchuan gave a soft sound of agreement.

Then she fell silent. Through the paper figurine’s eyes, she watched Sheng Huai’an, now hastily retreating, seat himself inside his carriage, undo the pouch from his waist, and draw out a cage-like pagoda.

It was a cage no larger than an infant’s palm, forged from meteoric iron, its surface engraved with protective runes — fiercely upright and potent. Inside the cage, fine chains were wound around a delicate, exquisite white tower.

The tower was roughly the length of Lang Jiuchuan’s little finger. Its material was pure white, without a single impurity, and there lingered upon the tower’s surface a faint, delicate spiritual energy. Her breath caught slightly.

“What is it?” A’Piao noticed her expression had shifted and could not help asking.

“A cage to imprison the soul,” Lang Jiuchuan said quietly. “White bones made into a pagoda.”

The small, pure white tower had been crafted from bone — taken from the part of a person’s body most suffused with wisdom, such as the spiritual crown bone. That the bone still carried spiritual energy proved that its owner had been spiritually pure and possessed extraordinary innate spiritual roots.

His white bones had been made into a tower, his soul sealed within it. The tower’s surface was then inscribed with the Five-Fire Rigid Curse, locked and suppressed within a cage — thereby imprisoning both spirit and soul. So it became a spiritual instrument.

Wearing this instrument provided its own layer of protection; evil spirits would not dare draw near.

Lang Jiuchuan watched as Sheng Huai’an sat cross-legged in the carriage, murmuring incantations under his breath. The Exquisite Tower emanated its spiritual energy — but it was very, very faint now, as though the white bone pagoda had lost its soul.

Even so, the tower, by virtue of being formed from bone and kept under the restraint of the rigid meteoric-iron cage, was still a spiritual instrument — far superior to any ordinary protective talisman.

She turned to look at the remnant soul in the room. He was hunched over in anguish, clutching his head, his ghostly form thin and faint, just like Fuqi had once been — burning away his own spiritual energy to sustain another.

Fuqi’s expression turned cold and hard, his battle-honed instincts stirring restlessly once more.

Lang Jiuchuan, too, felt a dark fury rising.

How many days in a row must she keep encountering things like this?

She formed hand seals, channeled her energy into the paper figurine, and gave it a sharp spin.

Inside the carriage, a violent gust of wind suddenly erupted, sending everything in the cabin flying and crashing to the floor. Sheng Huai’an, startled mid-meditation, snapped his eyes open — only to find the interior had gone pitch black at some unknown moment, as though a tide of yin energy had flooded the carriage.

He instinctively reached for the Exquisite Tower, but the instant his hand closed around it, he let out a shriek and flung it away.

For the meteoric iron of the Exquisite Tower had somehow, at some point, erupted in what felt like blazing spiritual fire. The searing crimson flames scorched his hand — skin splitting, flesh bursting, bone exposed — agony ripping through his entire body as he screamed without stopping.

His hand.

The paper figurine rolled up the Exquisite Tower from where Sheng Huai’an had flung it into the corner, then tumbled off the carriage with a clatter, rolled several times across the ground, and began tottering back toward Tongtiange with the tower strapped to its back.

The effort of casting that technique had drained Lang Jiuchuan further — her face grew paler — but she had Fuqi open the window and wait for the paper figurine to return, while she herself settled into a cross-legged position to regulate her breathing.

A’Piao came to the window and very shortly spotted the paper figurine climbing up with the Exquisite Tower on its back. He glanced back at a certain someone.

What happened to that complete depletion of spiritual power?

Apparently, when injustice roused her, the spiritual power came back?

He scooped the paper figurine and the Exquisite Tower inside, shut the window with a thud, and set the tower down on the table.

By now, inside Sheng Huai’an’s carriage, all was calm again — as if the earlier flood of dark energy filling the cabin had been nothing but a delusion.

But the bloody ruin of his right hand, flesh and bone laid bare, was most certainly not any delusion.

This was bad.

Sheng Huai’an’s face had gone the color of ash. He frantically searched through the overturned carriage for the Exquisite Tower — nothing. There was nothing.

His Five-Fire Exquisite Tower had vanished without a trace.

Replaying what had just happened, Sheng Huai’an slowly pieced it together. Someone had been after his Exquisite Tower — none other than that thieving Manager Piao from the den of thieves.

“Vile wretch!” Sheng Huai’an’s fury surged. He slapped the carriage wall at once. “Quickly — turn the carriage around. Back to Tongtiange.”

That damnable thief.

A’Piao felt his nose prickle and sneezed. Who on earth was cursing him?

He looked down at the Exquisite Tower. Even now he could appreciate what Lang Jiuchuan had meant by calling it “exquisite” — the mere faint glow of spiritual energy drifting from that white bone pagoda was enough to make one’s heart stir with longing.

A’Piao glanced at the remnant soul. This white tower — was it truly made from his bones?

The remnant soul, as if answering that very question, emerged from a brief daze and floated of his own accord toward the white tower, attaching himself to it. In that instant, his soul-trace grew stronger.

Such a perfect match — it truly was him.

“Who could be so cruel,” A’Piao said, “as to fashion a person’s bones into a spiritual instrument, imprisoning their very soul within? And how does this soul carry such tremendous energy?”

Lang Jiuchuan had by now opened her eyes. She gazed at the Exquisite Tower — now that the remnant soul had returned to the white pagoda, its spiritual energy was no longer quite so dim. There was even a layer of golden literary auspicious energy around it.

“Could this be a reincarnation of the Star of Literary Brilliance?” she murmured in surprise.

A’Piao started. “The Star of Literary Brilliance reincarnated — you mean to say he was once a top scholar, a good official?”

“Spiritual energy of this quality in white bone — the innate spiritual roots must be exceptional. And there is even golden literary auspicious energy. What else could it be but the Star of Literary Brilliance reincarnated?” Lang Jiuchuan thought of how Sheng Huai’an had risen as a top-ranked examination graduate, his answer paper celebrated and imitated by countless scholars. Then a staggering notion surfaced in her mind: “What if the true author of Sheng Huai’an’s celebrated examination essay was actually this Star of Literary Brilliance?”

That would explain why Sheng Huai’an’s literary style had diverged so drastically from the essay that had earned him his rank.

That would be outright fraud.

A’Piao was equally stunned. “How is that possible?”

“Why not?” Lang Jiuchuan looked at him, then shifted the topic abruptly. “But that is not what we should be discussing right now. You had better go handle the trouble — he has caught up.”

What?

Before A’Piao could respond, from downstairs came a bellow from Sheng Huai’an: “You vile thief — return my spiritual instrument to me!”

A’Piao: “!”

What the — you dead woman, you’re the one who stole it, and you’re letting me take the blame?

Yiya — who is out here laboring diligently even on Labor Day adding an extra update? It’s this worthless Cmo herself!

New month beginning — please continue to look after A’Jiu! Mua~