An invisible and enormous vortex materialized around Lang Jiuchuan. The moment that overwhelming, uncanny force appeared, Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes snapped open — and a flash of golden light streaked through them.

Ding-ling.

She resonated the Dizhong with Buddhist intent, and soft, ethereal tones began to ring — like wisps of pale gold Buddhist swastika patterns manifesting and enveloping her whole being, repelling all malevolence.

Lingxu Zhenren was momentarily taken aback. Buddhist intent? Was this person a member of the Buddhist school?

“No matter whether you are ghost or Buddha, I will eliminate you.” His eyes went cold and murderous; his hands flew through seals aimed at the Eight-Trigram Yin-Yang Mirror, causing the vortex to spin ever faster and wider, its power ever greater.

The golden light shielding Lang Jiuchuan dimmed rapidly. Her steel energy seemed to become as fragile as porcelain, crack lines shattering through it with an audible snapping, as the overturning force shredded it apart with a resounding crunch.

Even Jiangche was affected. Its fierce and powerful Geng Metal killing energy was seized and deflected by this overturning force, thrown off course. Unable to withstand it for even a moment, it reverted to the form of a tiny kitten and tumbled down to Lang Jiuchuan’s feet.

Rowr.

It let out a low, furious, and resentful growl.

It could only resent that it had not long occupied this demon tiger’s body, and had not yet completed its cultivation. It was no match at all for a Foundation Establishment cultivator. Without Lang Jiuchuan, this person could claim its life and subjugate it with ease.

As the enormous overturning force loomed over everything, this stretch of space compressed and warped; yin and yang reversed; day and night ceased to be distinguishable; there was only a vast chaos. Lang Jiuchuan stood in place like a solitary pine — yet she had the sensation of being flung around at violent speed within a whirlpool. Blood surged in revolt and seeped from the corners of her mouth. Her mind reeled with vertigo. Only the ancient mirror hanging suspended in the air had never once shifted position.

Lingxu Zhenren likewise stood at the center of the vortex, watching the shielding steel energy around Lang Jiuchuan being torn apart by the hurricane the vortex produced. He let out a triumphant laugh: “To force this master to deploy his life-bonded treasure, you may count yourself as someone of consequence. But that — is the extent of it! Submit to your death immediately, and this master will preserve one of your souls.”

His hoarse, grating laughter mingled with the deep, eerie resonance the Eight-Trigram Mirror emitted, echoing layer upon layer within the small and confining sealed space. The uncanny cacophony — like countless wronged souls mocking her in unison from beside her ears — pierced her eardrums until a thread of blood seeped out, throwing her mind into great disarray.

This was a technique to bewitch the mind, shatter the will, and disturb the soul. Any cultivator with weak cultivation, a weak soul, and an unstable Daoist heart would likely have long since descended into frenzied self-destruction.

Yet Lang Jiuchuan continued to clutch the Dizhong — and the divine and authoritative Daoist resonance it transmitted remained constant, keeping her Daoist heart upright and unshakeable as a great bell. She raised her eyes, and with cold clarity said: “What a lot of nonsense.”

What?

Lingxu Zhenren’s triumphant laughter hitched. His face darkened like still water. Still mouthing off with death staring her in the face. Hmph!

He bit the tip of his tongue and spat his true essence blood onto the ancient mirror. The vortex accelerated further, churning without pause.

Bang.

Lang Jiuchuan’s shielding steel energy was torn apart. The hurricane shredded her clothing, and the space compressed and warped around her. Blood seeped from her skin and her seven orifices alike. Yin energy invaded her lungs and meridians. Her soul felt as though a hand had closed around it and was ripping it apart.

And yet — those clear and luminous eyes of hers passed through layer upon layer of churning dark cold fog, through the distorting and spinning light and shadow, and gazed straight at that faintly-glowing eight-trigram mirror.

Overturning yin and yang?

All phenomena are empty — everything is but illusion and false appearance.

Her lips, now somewhat pale, curved into the coldest of arcs — the stillness and resolve of one who has seen through to the root and the truth.

Those who kill others shall be killed in turn!

“The righteous path that is not righteous — you serve as a tool for the tyrant. Do you dare attempt to overturn the true order of Heaven and Earth with the illusory reversals within that mirror? Was it Heaven’s way that gave you such audacity?” Her voice was not loud, yet it carried a bone-deep chill, piercing into Lingxu Zhenren’s eardrums like an ice spike.

And at that very moment — her wrist gave a sharp flick, and the jade bone inscription brush flew from her hand and hovered suspended in the air.

Lingxu Zhenren startled. That was—?

That inscription brush — lustrous, warm white suffused with flowing streaks of violet light — hovered before her. Along the shaft of the brush, the spiritual resonance of the correct Law of Heaven and Earth flowed and circulated with blazing speed, condensing entirely at the tip, wrapping it in a surge of wild and violent upright violet lightning.

“With a single stroke of illusory falsehood, I set Heaven and Earth aright.” Between Lang Jiuchuan’s fingers, a single drop of crimson blood suddenly welled from her skin; she flicked her finger, shooting it into the violet lightning gathered at the brush’s tip.

Heart’s essence blood, pure with vital essence and True Yang — who among us doesn’t have it?

Lang Jiuchuan’s blood, however, was of a purity far greater than most, as upright as True Yang fire. The instant it merged with the violet lightning, the violet-gold electricity swelled with explosive force. Countless lightning bolts as thick as arms burst and shot from the brush’s tip like serpents, carrying a wild and destructive aura that expanded outward with a thunderous crash — violently tearing apart this small, compressed and inverted space in every direction.

Still not enough.

Her eyes flashed like lightning. Her hands flew through a rapid and complex series of seals, and Daoist resonance poured from the seals, channeled by her into the inscription brush. Her lips moved in a murmur: “Resplendent heavenly might, heed my decree — true spirits of the Thunder Division, answer the summons and manifest — Break!“

The brush seemed to be gripped by an invisible hand, which swung it down with savage force. Wherever the tip went, lightning blades flashed, cleaving apart all illusion and falsehood.

Crack.

“No—!” Lingxu Zhenren’s face was contorted with horror. A crack split across the mirror’s face, and the vortex lurched.

Lang Jiuchuan’s hands shook, yet she formed another seal — intent and Daoist resonance flowed from her fingertips into a mad rush that poured into the inscription brush, transforming the brush into a sharp and righteous spear of thunder and lightning. It surged with unstoppable force toward the Eight-Trigram Yin-Yang Mirror hanging suspended in the air.

BOOM.

A massive pillar of purple-gold lightning, carrying supreme divine and destructive will, pierced clean through the Eight-Trigram Yin-Yang Mirror.

CRACK.

The ancient eight-trigram mirror spread with cracks like a spiderweb before exploding apart — completely shattered, fragmenting into countless shards that scattered in every direction.

“Aahh—!” Lingxu Zhenren’s self-satisfaction and arrogance shattered along with the Eight-Trigram Mirror, consumed by boundless terror and despair. A heart-wrenching, soul-tearing scream tore from his throat.

The Eight-Trigram Yin-Yang Mirror was his life-bonded treasure. When the mirror was destroyed — he would be destroyed with it!

Lingxu Zhenren’s eyes filled with horrified shock. His face aged with terrifying speed, and both his hands — once long and elegant — withered into skeleton-like claws. Instinctively, he flew through frantic seals, attempting to summon back the artifact spirit of the Eight-Trigram Mirror.

But beneath divine might, no spirit could stand against it.

“Urgh—” Blood poured from Lingxu Zhenren’s eyes. Finding that the Eight-Trigram Mirror’s spirit had already been extinguished, he went mad — staring at Lang Jiuchuan, who had herself suffered a vast loss of true essence, his gaze burning with absolute hatred: “You deserve to die!”

He formed seals with frenzied speed, channeling the last remnants of his true essence and spiritual power into the hand seals he was forming, biting out the words through clenched teeth: “With my soul as the offering, I sacrifice myself to the Demon God — descend upon my body…”

A self-detonation sacrifice!

There would be no end to this.

Lang Jiuchuan clutched the bone chime. She bit the tip of her tongue and spat a mouthful of essence blood true energy onto the Dizhong, channeled Buddhist intent within, and struck the bell with her palm.

Ohm.

Carrying the supreme will of the Buddhist school to suppress all evil — like a sacred mountain descending — it crashed down in a thunderous toll that utterly engulfed Lingxu Zhenren’s now-withered body before he could finish his sacrificial chant.

A wail of agony cut off abruptly within the deep reverberations of the bell, leaving only upright lightning fire burning away at Lingxu Zhenren’s charred remains.

The flying stones settled; the grass and trees trembled faintly; the mountain gorge returned to stillness; and time seemed to freeze in that moment.

From within the charred remains, a frail wisp of residual soul flew out — and before it could flee in its pitiful state, a white flash leaped upon it and opened wide jaws, swallowing it whole into its belly.

Lang Jiuchuan saw this and let out a long breath. Covered head to toe in blood, she collapsed to the ground, and her soul drifted lightly up from her body.