The medicinal ingredients had not yet arrived, so Lang Jiuchuan found a quiet spot, asked for some fine-grade cinnabar, mixed it with her own blood, and diluted it into talisman ink. She then produced a sheet of specially prepared yellow paper imbued with a faint medicinal fragrance, summoned her talisman brush, and carefully rendered a Supreme Calamity-Dispersing Soul-Settling Talisman — a complex and painstaking work.

When A’Piao saw that Lang Jiuchuan had been gone for a good half of the day, only to return and request these expensive medicinal materials, and was willing to invest such a heavy sum, and was now painting such an elaborate and mentally taxing spiritual talisman — he could not suppress his curiosity any longer, and asked what exactly had happened.

Lang Jiuchuan popped a few medicinal pellets into her mouth, formed hand seals with both hands, and regulated her breathing in meditation. In a few brief words, she explained Song Niangzi’s commission. Eyes closed, she continued, “Corpse-Decay Gu — it’s listed in the Hundred Gu Compendium. Particularly vile. Using it on a human body produces such a potent stench that it’s easily detected. Hard to believe anyone still cultivates this kind.”

A’Piao had ways of feeding himself without eating, yet hearing this account, his whole being felt suddenly unwell, his stomach lurching violently. He slapped his own mouth — and that’s what you get for being curious.

Ugh.

“That little witch chose to cultivate such an easily detectable form of yin-toxic gu not because she wanted to disgust people,” Lang Jiuchuan continued, opening her eyes, “but either for amusement, or because her mind operates that way — childish and pathological, and extremely dangerous. An estate family shrine harboring a wicked sorcerer like this — who knows whether the Xuan Clan is even aware?”

A’Piao said, “Full of malice.”

“Precisely,” Lang Jiuchuan agreed. “This person harbors tremendous malice. If an ordinary person were to unknowingly provoke her, they would likely die in a way that is both horrific and entirely impossible to detect or guard against.”

Most people would have no knowledge of gu at all — they would not even know they had fallen victim until it was far too late.

“Should we notify the Xuan Clan?”

Lang Jiuchuan lowered her gaze. “How could I do that? Song Niangzi is a destined patron of my Shop of Myriad Matters. Naturally it falls to me, her proprietor, to dispel her calamity and untangle her affliction.”

Such an evildoer — she would handle it herself. No need to trouble anyone else.

A’Piao fell silent, unnerved by the killing intent seeping off her.

This woman is not some principled, morally upright good person!

He had always known that!

“The way you describe it, Song Niangzi can’t exactly afford to pay for all these medicinal materials either. The shop you’re running — you’re going straight toward operating at a dead loss, aren’t you.” A’Piao shifted the subject.

Lang Jiuchuan smiled faintly. “Can silver keep me alive? What I need is a path to survival — merit and virtue, the purest and most concentrated force of people’s faith and devotion. That is the foundation that makes it possible for me to live. Silver is nothing compared to that.”

A’Piao said no more.

He was afraid that if he kept talking, he would inadvertently let something slip — something that this woman with her thousand scheming calculations would seize upon.

Lang Jiuchuan painted a few more talismans, waited for the ink to dry, and gathered them up. By then, Honglian had already arranged for a water ghost to carry the medicinal ingredients Lang Jiuchuan had requested, accompanying her to Song Niangzi’s place.

Dusk settled over the city.

Lang Jiuchuan arrived at Song Niangzi’s house to find candles already lit inside. When Song Niangzi saw her returning laden with large and small bundles, she let out a long breath of relief.

Fu Qi had no physical form, and Lang Jiuchuan had not brought Jian Lan out with her, so she had the little water ghost assist with the medicinal preparation. Meanwhile, Song Niangzi swept out the room and dug out the bathing tub to have it ready.

The medicinal ingredients had already been portioned according to the formula. Lang Jiuchuan first separated the items meant to be taken internally, setting them aside, then handed the ingredients for the medicinal bath to the water ghost to begin simmering.

When Lang Jiuchuan had visited Song Niangzi earlier, she had brought along several items, just enough to lay down a small ritual formation in Song Yuedie’s room. This would double the efficiency of the gu removal and ward off all manner of evil. Given how critically frail the child’s body was, without a ritual formation to anchor her, her soul might slip free of its moorings during the ordeal and depart entirely — making it absolutely necessary to have the formation hold that soul in place.

Song Niangzi had already followed Lang Jiuchuan’s prior instructions and undressed Song Yuedie, leaving only a small pair of shorts for modesty. Watching Lang Jiuchuan’s elaborate preparations, she pressed her lips together.

The more elaborate the preparations, the greater the difficulty of what lay within Die’er’s body. If the two of them could get through this, she would treat this little immortal as a divine figure for the rest of her life — enshrining her and offering prayers day and night.

Lang Jiuchuan spread out the set of gold needles provided by Tongtian Pavilion. They were a complete matched set, polished to extraordinary precision — smooth and gleaming, radiating a brilliant golden light. She picked one up and lightly flicked it; the tail of the needle emitted a faint, delicate hum.

Clear in tone, long in resonance, strong in vibration. Fine needles indeed.

Lang Jiuchuan held the needle between her fingers. In her mind, the sequence of needle insertions appeared unbidden — along with countless needling techniques, one after another.

Her fingertips trembled slightly. The gaze she fixed on the golden needle was deep and unreadable.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” Fu Qi asked.

Lang Jiuchuan collected herself. “Stand guard outside. Still watch for that little witch — I don’t know whether performing the gu removal will draw her here. Better to be careful.”

Fu Qi went out and crouched down on the rooftop.

Lang Jiuchuan first produced a small porcelain vial, tipped out a Heart-Protecting Pellet, and fed it to Song Yuedie. Then she looked at Song Niangzi and said, “I will begin by inserting gold needles into the acupoints and letting blood — but the primary goal is to drive the insects from the head down into the meridians of the limbs. The head is the most critical area. If they are pressed too aggressively and the gu insects all burrow deeper into the head, the suffering will be far worse.”

“I understand. Just focus on the needles.”

Lang Jiuchuan moistened her lips. “The needling technique I will use incorporates Daoist incantation scripture — channeling the incantation through the needle and driving the gu with the intent of the Dao. Once that happens, the insects will be thrown into chaos and, even while unconscious, she will feel the pain. Would you prefer to go to the kitchen to tend the medicine?”

Song Niangzi paused, then quickly understood — she was afraid she would not be able to hold herself together and would cry out and interrupt.

“I — I promise I won’t make a sound, all right? I truly won’t disturb you.” Song Niangzi said, “I promised her that no matter what the outcome, I would stay by her side. With Mother here, she won’t be afraid.”

Seeing her resolve, Lang Jiuchuan gave a nod.

She rose and lit a stick of calming incense, then sat cross-legged at the head of Song Yuedie’s bed. First she chanted an invocation to summon the Gu Deity, burned a Spirit-Summoning Talisman, then rose and sterilized the chosen acupoints. She picked up a needle, gathered her focus, let her intention guide her movement, and brought the needle down onto the Hundred Convergences point.

The first needle — the Hundred Convergences point. To drive out the gu insects, one began from the head, otherwise the unearthly aura carried by a needle inserted elsewhere might startle the insects into fleeing upward into the brain.

Lang Jiuchuan’s hand held steady as she gently rotated the needle at the acupoint. The force of the Dao followed her fingertip into the needle, and from the needle into the point.

It was merely a small, single needle — yet Song Yuedie, deep in unconsciousness, furrowed her brow and let out a soft whimper, pain surfacing on her face.

Song Niangzi’s heart seized. She climbed onto the bed and closed Song Yuedie’s hand in her own.

With the first needle placed, Lang Jiuchuan took up another and inserted it at the Four Spirit Points around the crown, applying light lifting and shallow thrusting. The Daoist suppressive force channeled through it delved into the acupoints, penetrating the cranial meridians, thoroughly frightening the gu king lurking within the head into frantic, desperate flight.

“Mmn.” Song Yuedie’s eyelids fluttered ceaselessly, and from the pain her body trembled involuntarily, as though on the verge of waking.

Lang Jiuchuan cast a quick glance at her, then pressed her hand lightly against the back of the child’s head, feeling the trembling vibration through her fingertips. She understood what that told her.

It had begun.

She took up two more needles and placed them at the front and back Spirit Points, and a fifth at the Upper Star point. At once she formed hand seals with both hands, passed her palms over these needles, and let the Yang incantation resonate through them, producing a resonant, vibrating hum.

The gu king and the swarm of gu insects were thrown into a panic, scattering and fleeing in every direction.

And Song Yuedie let out a piercing scream, her frail body convulsing violently.