The absence of the Rong Family’s young master from the Ghost Gate Opening and Soul Crossing ceremony at Qingyang Temple caused quite a stir. Although the head of Qingyang Temple explained that the Rong young master had encountered an extremely malevolent evil spirit at the rear of the mountain and had been forced into a great magical battle and was unable to attend — this explanation left many who had come expressly to see her deeply disappointed — yet nobody said much. After all, she was the heir of the Xuan Clan’s Rong Family, and more to the point, a tremendous commotion had indeed erupted at the rear of the mountain. Even the Gazing Toward Immortals Pavilion had been blown to rubble, and a flash flood had somehow been triggered out of nowhere.

If no evil spirit had appeared, how would something like that have come about?

It was not until ten days after the incident that Lang Jiuchuan heard of this from Yice, and she nearly laughed out of exasperation.

“The Rong Family’s response is pretty quick. An evil spirit — me?” She slid her prayer beads through her fingers, a light smile playing at her lips. “Well reasoned, well evidenced. That deflection — quite reasonable, actually.”

Yice laughed coldly. “Absolute rubbish — they’re accustomed to wrapping all their actions in false pretexts and excuses, covering up their own ugly faces.”

Lang Jiuchuan cast him a sidelong glance and raised an eyebrow. “Fellow Daoist senior brother seems to harbor quite strong feelings toward the Xuan Clan — is there some deep-seated grudge there?”

Yice’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

“It seems there is indeed. And you took the Feng Family’s patronage and became a member of their household — could it be that this grudge lies with the Feng Family?”

Yice turned his head to look at her. How could a person possibly be this perceptive? What exactly had he done that gave it away?

“Of course not — how could that be? If it were, wouldn’t that make me someone who consorts with the enemy? Ha!” He laughed it off, forcing a wide grin.

Lang Jiuchuan said with an air of grave deliberation, “Besides consorting with the enemy, there is also a phrase — lying in wait while enduring hardship. Or rather — entering the tiger’s den?”

Yice deflated awkwardly. “I’m not nearly as bold as you make me sound.”

“You need not be so guarded. As you have seen for yourself — I was prepared to kill the Rong Family’s young master. That should tell you clearly enough that my hatred for the Rong Family is far from shallow. I would naturally never collude with them to deal with you — especially since you and I have already been in cahoots together.”

Yice: “…”

How did she say the words in cahoots with such a grand, righteous air?

“So — you don’t have to tell me if you choose not to. I’m not particularly interested anyway — it’s not my grudge to carry.” Lang Jiuchuan rose, brushed the grass from her rear, and said, “I owe you my thanks from before. As a token in return, I’ll give you two Five-Thunder Talismans.”

She held out two talismans.

Five-Thunder Talismans…

Yice quickly got to his feet to take them, saying, “Real Five-Thunder Talismans? How could I — I really shouldn’t—” Even as he said it, seeing her beginning to pull them back, he snatched them outright. “Thank you, Fellow Daoist.”

It was only after that that Lang Jiuchuan descended the mountain. Yice followed, thought for a moment, and then said, “The truth is — the Feng Family seized the Maoshan sect’s sacred treasure, the Altar Jade Tablet that had been enshrined at our mountain since founding. My master and two senior brothers died at their hands because of it.”

“Is that all that’s left of the Maoshan sect now — just you?”

Yice smiled bitterly. “Spiritual energy has been faint for so long, and cultivation has never been easy. With the Xuan Clan’s old established sects standing before us, fewer and fewer people are willing to enter the Maoshan sect to learn the way.”

“It’s because you’re poor,” Lang Jiuchuan said bluntly.

Yice’s face darkened. “The Maoshan sect was once a distinguished name on the path. It is only because we specialize in exorcism and capturing ghosts, and do not charge high fees for our services, that we have gradually declined.”

“In plain terms — poverty is the cause of it.”

Yice was thoroughly unconvinced. “Cultivation is a matter of the heart. The Xuan Clan is wealthy enough — they sit on the resources and treasures left behind by their ancestors. And yet what have they cultivated themselves into? A handful of flashy moves and they dare to call themselves grand masters. Hmph!”

Lang Jiuchuan said, “It is true that cultivation is a matter of the heart — that much is undeniable. But to produce talismans, you need to buy high-quality cinnabar — and that costs silver. To make medicinal pills to restore your vitality, you need quality herbs — and that costs silver too. Take the Maoshan sect as an example — to repair the mountain gate, does that not cost silver? If the gate falls into disrepair, how many pilgrims will bother to come and make offerings? And without incense offerings to the founding patriarch and the various deities, how can you invoke their divine assistance when you conduct your exorcisms and ghost-capturing? Simplest of all — without incense donations, your sect’s disciples eat nothing? And to learn the art of painting talismans without even yellow paper — how does one learn?”

There was…

Yice had no answer to that.

“Cultivation exists within the mortal world, and cannot escape its earthly necessities. Don’t think me vulgar for speaking of money — but what I’m saying is that I am speaking sense. You can think it over. There is an old saying: with enough money you can make even a ghost push your millstone. Give them enough in offerings, and with your hand in their pocket, won’t they feel obligated to do you a favor? There is also this: worship enough deities and there will always be deities watching over you. Never mind prime incense — even if you only offer ordinary incense, you must offer it abundantly. Otherwise why would any deity bother with you? What — do immortals operate without relying on incense and the power of vows? Would they willingly scatter their divine radiance and let you freeload off them?”

A rumble of thunder suddenly sounded overhead.

Yice looked up at the sky, watching the rolling thunder and lightning flashing within the dark clouds, and thought bitterly to himself — why couldn’t it just fall down and strike her? She spoke with such unbridled arrogance, and yet there was no way to argue back against her.

“All of the above being said — those of us who cultivate the way must also make use of that despicable worldly currency. Buying yellow paper, cinnabar, incense — even the large roosters and black dogs your line of work makes frequent use of — where does any of it not cost silver? Ah, truly devoted ascetic cultivators are another matter entirely, of course.” Lang Jiuchuan walked and talked at the same time. “And naturally, all of what I just mentioned can be prepared and provided by the clients you serve, but the herbs and so forth — getting some medicinal pills together to supplement yourself — that still requires materials. Without silver, who is going to give you the herbs? If you want a proper Daoist robe and need to buy cloth for it — that also costs silver.”

Yice pinched the patch on his robe where she had been looking and said, “What about the truly impoverished — people who genuinely cannot afford a fee? Do we simply refuse to help them?”

“There is a phrase for that — rob the rich to aid the poor.”

Yice was quiet for a moment. “You’re quite the bandit, aren’t you.”

Lang Jiuchuan made a dismissive sound. “To revitalize a mountain gate and see the Maoshan sect continue into the future, you must be both worldly and a bandit when necessary. Think of it this way — what seems like a fortune to us is mere pocket change to certain people. If you tell yourself that what you take from them can go toward helping many more people in need, your conscience can rest easy.”

“Like your Ten-Thousand Affairs Shop?”

“You could think of it that way.”

Yice sidled closer. “I’ve seen your Ten-Thousand Affairs Shop has only one manager. How about this — let me follow you around for a while? I do handle exorcisms and ghost-catching well enough, and I have some degree of cultivation.”

Lang Jiuchuan laughed coolly. “I think you just want to pocket some of my fees.”

The perpetually napping Jiangche lazily opened one tiger eye halfway. Follow her around — just how desperate would you have to be?

Yice rubbed his nose sheepishly. “Think of it as you eating the meat and me tagging along for the broth.”

“I won’t hide it from you — the Rong Family already sees me as a thorn in their side. Sooner or later they will bring out something big to deal with me. There is no benefit to staying by my side — you’d be risking your life, and if things go badly, the last remaining heir of the Maoshan sect will have his life forfeited alongside mine. Your master would probably be so furious he’d leap out of his coffin.”

“Nonsense — my master said I have the life-fate of one who turns misfortune into fortune. As long as I hold firm to my heart and walk the way with single-minded devotion, no great disaster will befall me.”

“If I were anyone’s master, I’d say something like that too — just to keep my disciple from abandoning the sect.”

Yice’s mouth twitched. He thought of Rong Huanxuan, and his expression grew serious. “By the way — that Rong young master is a strange one. When you meet her again, you had better be careful.”

Lang Jiuchuan paused her steps and raised an eyebrow. “What did you notice?”

Yice shook his head. “I’m not the most capable cultivator out there, but I felt her aura was not quite right — not orthodox. My master once said — read the aura to discern fortune and misfortune. That is my greatest natural gift.”

Aura not orthodox — hmm.

A creeping murderous edge rose in Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes. She cracked her knuckles one by one. She had devoured a soul. How could her aura possibly be orthodox?