The Lang family members had gathered in Cui Shi’s courtyard, expressions dark with anger as they watched the young man across from them — anxious about Cui Shi lying insensible inside, yet wary of this arrogant figure who belonged to the Rong family of the mysterious clan.

Lang Zhengping’s face was grim. “The Special Investigation Office has been established precisely to oversee members of the mysterious arts community who use their techniques to harm ordinary people. You dare do this openly and in plain sight? Does the Rong family of the mysterious clan think they can ignore the Supervision Office entirely — or are they deliberately challenging imperial authority?”

Lu You’an replied with cold indifference: “Openly in plain sight? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I advise you not to make unfounded accusations — or you’ll find yourself in the tongue-ripping hell in the next life.”

“You!” Lang Zhengping gave a cold laugh. “Whether or not you understand — your own heart knows. People act, and the heavens watch!”

“Well, you’ve got that part right, you old man — people act, and the heavens watch. And what that wretched creature your family has produced has done — the heavens know full well! Look at this — rightful retribution, and it’s fallen on her mother at that.” Lu You’an’s eyes were sharp and malicious. He swept a meaningful gaze across the assembled Lang family members. “You had all best take care. Don’t let that cursed thing bring disaster down on you too. Misfortune follows anyone who gets close to her — next it might be one of you.”

The Lang family members’ faces shifted through several expressions. Before any of them could speak, there was a blur of movement, and a figure in violet appeared before them.

“Who are you calling a wretched creature?” The voice was like a shard of winter ice — so cold that everyone present gave an involuntary shudder.

Lu You’an hadn’t yet fully taken in the figure before him when, without thinking, he snapped back: “I’m calling you a wretch—”

His eyes sharpened. He looked more closely. A formless force came sweeping toward him. His pupils contracted — he tried to dodge, but had no time.

Slap.

Without anyone visibly touching him, his face was struck by a sharp gust of force that sent him spinning through the air. He flipped over and hit the ground with a second crack.

The Lang family members and all the onlookers: “!”

The impact was tremendous. They all looked at Lang Jiuchuan, who stood with her hands clasped behind her back. Did she actually strike him? They couldn’t tell. Everyone swallowed.

The Lang family members were frightened to silence, watching her with expressions of awe and apprehension.

Only Lang Zhengping let out a breath of relief. His heart felt lighter.

“Martial-brother Lu.” The companion who had dressed in Daoist robes alongside Lu You’an recovered from his astonishment and rushed to help him up — and as he did, his expression shifted drastically.

Lu You’an’s face was twisted to one side, swollen to half a pig’s head. Blood seeped out, and he turned to spit — a mouthful of blood, with two teeth in it.

Ma Cheng stared at Lang Jiuchuan in shock. He hadn’t seen her move at all.

Lang Jiuchuan gave Lu You’an one cold look. Judging by the shape of his eyes, this was Fang’s son — the so-called fourth son of the Lu household, the one sent to train with the Rong family. So he’d come to back up his mother.

“Jiuchuan, go quickly and see to your mother.” Lang Zhengping urged her.

Lang Jiuchuan turned and walked toward the meditation room. Lu You’an shouted after her sharply: “You’re that Lang Jiuchuan — stand where you are!”

“Elder Uncle, have Elder Brother go back to the city and report to the Supervision Office, directing the report to Shen Qinghe’s attention,” Lang Jiuchuan called out without turning around, walking into the meditation room. “Say that someone is using mysterious arts to harm people openly and in broad daylight, and request them to come and open an investigation. Tell Gong Qi at the Supervision Office — ask him to come handle this case personally.”

Lu You’an and Ma Cheng’s expressions changed, but neither could think of what to say. After a moment, Lu You’an lifted his chin — so what? His own father was a monk at Huguo Temple, not that useless Lang Changxue.

Besides — Lang Jiuchuan had struck first. He was only retaliating in kind.

Still — Lang Jiuchuan knew Gong Qi?

That was a thorn in their side. The man had joined the Supervision Office and was nothing but trouble, and the Gong family had just refused a marriage proposal from their young master. The two families were as good as enemies at this point. He might easily take sides against them.

Lu You’an instinctively reached for the talisman at his waist — it was a Thousand-Li Voice Transmission talisman, given to him by his Master, to be used in a crisis.

No rush. He hadn’t needed to call on his Master yet. He leaned toward Ma Cheng and murmured: “Go quickly and fetch Master Xuanming.”

Ma Cheng resented the tone of command, but the other man was the direct disciple of Elder Wanfang, and he couldn’t afford to make an enemy of him. So he got up and left.

Lang Jiuchuan was not afraid of whoever might come. She stepped quickly into the meditation room and immediately sensed a biting, venomous yin energy. Her expression darkened.

Inside the room, the servants attending Cui Shi were all present, as were Lang Caiyao and Lang Cailing. Every person’s face was drawn and ill-looking from the yin energy. In one corner of the room, Master Xuanguang — who had assisted with the memorial ceremony earlier — sat reciting the Diamond Sutra.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at Cui Shi lying on the bed. Her complexion was a sickly gray-blue, her entire body wreathed in yin energy. Across her chest lay a strand of prayer beads — the Master’s own personal beads, placed there to anchor her.

Seeing Lang Jiuchuan enter, Nanny Cheng rushed forward with reddened eyes and choked out: “Young Miss, look.”

She opened her palm, revealing a handkerchief. Inside it was fine ash from a talisman — ash that had turned black, the result of having absorbed a curse on someone’s behalf.

This was the protective talisman Lang Jiuchuan had given Cui Shi. It was the talisman’s reaction that had alerted her that Cui Shi was in danger.

She had truly been struck by something she had no part in bringing on herself.

Lang Jiuchuan sighed quietly, but laid no blame on herself. These things were a matter of cause and consequence.

She walked to the bedside. Lang Cailing seemed about to say something, but Lang Caiyao grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back, shaking her head.

Lang Cailing thought of what Lang Jiuchuan had done during the ceremony, and obediently held her tongue.

Lang Jiuchuan took hold of Cui Shi’s hand. The yin energy biting into her body was cold to the bone. She turned to look at Master Xuanguang. “Master,” she said, “I am here now. You may withdraw.”

She took up the prayer beads, held them in both hands, and returned them to him with a respectful gesture. “Amitabha. Master, thank you for your compassion.”

Master Xuanguang, too, recited a brief word of Buddha’s name, then quietly withdrew.

Lang Jiuchuan asked Lang Caiyao and the others to step out as well. She took out her gold needles, had Nanny Cheng remove Cui Shi’s outer clothing, and swiftly located the acupoints before inserting the needles. She sat cross-legged, formed seals with both hands, channeled her Daoist intent into her palms, and passed them over the gold needles.

The needles hummed. Thin threads of cold, sinister energy were conducted out through the needle ends.

Lang Jiuchuan then took her ritual writing brush, pricked the tip of her own finger, and used the blood to draw a yin-expulsion and evil-dispelling talisman on Cui Shi’s forehead.

Nanny Cheng stood nearby, hardly daring to breathe, and watched with her own eyes as the blood talisman on her Madam’s forehead dissolved into golden light and sank into the skin. Her eyes went wide, and she cast a look of reverence and awe at Lang Jiuchuan.

As the yin energy within Cui Shi’s body was drawn out through the needles, her complexion gradually shifted from gray-blue back toward its natural color — though she remained pale.

Lang Jiuchuan was far from idle. Her eyes cool and sharp, she took a blank sheet of yellow ritual paper and drew another talisman — a Dark Underworld Earth-Fiend seal — drawing into it every last strand of yin energy that had not yet dispersed, including what remained outside the room.

The talisman instantly became dark and saturated with a venomous, malevolent energy — deeply sinister in character.

Lang Jiuchuan formed a seal with one hand, plucked out a single strand of hair, wound it tightly around the talisman, and murmured under her breath. In an instant, the talisman burst into flame on its own. That mass of extreme yin energy, as though it knew the way it had come, surged out of the meditation room and drove with precision straight into the body of one particular person.

“Aah—!” A piercing, terror-stricken shriek rose from outside.

Lang Jiuchuan withdrew her posture. Her expression was cold and absolute.

If you strike me, I will strike back. You started this — now you can feel for yourself the taste of yin energy boring into your body, gnawing at your bones and consuming your heart.