Lang Jiuchuan had never expected the Rong Family to exploit the label of “demon” so thoroughly. They had clearly let their fury override all reason, determined to nail her to the pillar of shame as a malevolent fiend.

During the days she had spent in closed-door cultivation, Wu Jing had been buzzing with rumors. Word had spread far and wide that the Lang Family harbored a demon who threatened the nation’s fate — and who was this person? None other than the Lang Family’s ninth daughter, who had been left to her own devices on the Zhuang Zi estate for years. Moreover, she was said to be not the true Lang Jiuchuan at all, but a girl whose body had been possessed by some nameless evil spirit.

And the one who had proclaimed this was no ordinary street gossip — it had been divined by Daoist Zhishang, a cultivated master supported by the Tantai clan.

Daoist Zhishang was eighty-nine years old this year. Born with exceptional spiritual roots, he had followed disciples of the Ziyang Zhenren lineage into the Quanzhen Sect’s teachings at the tender age of three. Extraordinarily gifted, he was renowned for his divination.

Yet he had divined that the Lang Family harbored a demon within its gates — one that would bring chaos to the Great Dan empire and plunge its people into unspeakable suffering.

Such a reputation was more than any young girl could bear — even the Lang Family itself could not bear it. Across the entirety of Wu Jing, across the whole realm, there was no one who could withstand such an accusation.

Rumors are fiercer than tigers. Spreading such talk was nothing short of a desire to destroy!

Fortunately for the Lang Family, they were in mourning and had no need to venture out. Had they been required to appear in public, they would have been drowned in spittle. Even so, while the masters remained indoors, the servants still had to go out to purchase supplies — and without exception, every one of them was harassed, looked down upon, and even verbally abused. They could not even bring back ingredients of particularly fresh or fine quality.

A cloud of gloom settled over the Lang Family. How could misfortune keep piling up without end? The unjust death of the Second Master had only just been overturned — the joy of that hadn’t even faded — and now this catastrophic disaster had fallen upon them.

What truly terrible luck!

Lang Jiuchuan had not yet entered Wu Jing when the little ghosts discovered her approach, immediately splitting up to spread the word. Several rushed to her side to breathlessly report the rumors — and only then did she realize that the feud with the Rong Family had reached a white-hot intensity.

The Rong Family intended to use the “demon” accusation to turn the entire world against her, to have her hunted down by all, to strip her of every ally and confidant. Ha!

Truly filthy methods!

But undeniably effective.

After all, behind her stood the Lang Family — an ordinary noble house of lords and marquises, merely mortal people. Such a vicious reputation would inevitably taint the Lang Family’s name, and affect their marriage prospects and much else besides.

The expression on Lang Jiuchuan’s face could have frozen someone to death.

One little ghost, trembling with its soul half-rattled out, said: “Revered — Revered One, Shopkeeper A’Piao and the others ask that when you enter the city, you conceal yourself somewhat. Otherwise they fear that the ignorant common folk might throw filth at you!”

Lang Jiuchuan: “……”

Throw filth — what a disgustingly vivid image!

She wasn’t afraid of the people’s ignorance. She was afraid that the actual filth might soil her soul. Without further delay, she cast a concealment illusion, then used a spiritual movement technique to return directly to Wanshi Shop.

Upon seeing her, Fu Qi let out a breath of relief and said: “You’ve finally appeared. Are you alright?”

“Nothing serious — just a severe depletion of my vital energy. Recovering it quickly won’t be possible unless I can accumulate great merit to rebuild my body.” Lang Jiuchuan shook her head.

Her clash with Lingxu had consumed an enormous amount of her energy, and the covert strike against Rong Huanxuan afterward had cost her further. Although she had been meditating and cultivating during these past days, the time was too short — a deficit this large could not be patched up in an instant.

She was, in the end, only a person — and a weakened, incomplete young woman at that. Fortunately, the patrons she had previously requested things of had consistently provided her with merit and wish-power; without that, she would not have recovered even this well.

Fu Qi said: “Take it easy. Don’t push yourself too hard. Think about it — you borrowed this body and have only been using it for half a year, all told. To have reached your current state and power in this body is already testament to your innate gifts from your past life. Anyone else fighting the way you do would have collapsed long ago.”

The further Fu Qi progressed in cultivating ghost-force, the more acutely he appreciated how difficult cultivation truly was — and how much harder still it was to advance. For someone like her who never stopped fighting in the midst of her cultivation path: ordinary Daoist priests, just for drawing a high-level spiritual talisman, would need ten to fifteen days of recovery afterward. She, though?

Fu Qi was not blind to her urgency — but he also knew that a bowstring pulled too taut would eventually snap.

Lang Jiuchuan felt a slight warmth in her chest and said: “If I take it slowly, people will be climbing on top of my head to relieve themselves. Just look at the rumors outside — they’re trying to incite the entire world to come after me. They want me dead!”

“Petty, underhanded people — this is all they know how to do.” A killing intent flickered across Fu Qi’s face.

Madam Song and Song Yuedie came in together. Upon seeing Lang Jiuchuan, both were genuinely pleased, though tinged with worry. Madam Song said: “Young Miss, not a single word of what they’re saying outside do we believe. If it would help, we can go out and testify — you are the beneficent Celestial Master who saved our Yuedie!”

Song Yuedie’s large eyes bobbed up and down as she nodded vigorously.

Lang Jiuchuan patted the small bun atop the girl’s head and said: “What if I truly were a demon? Aren’t you afraid of me?”

Madam Song smiled: “If you are a demon, then may the world have more demons like you — that would be nothing but a good thing.”

Ding-ling.

A breeze stirred the wind chime hanging at the entrance.

Lang Jiuchuan turned around and saw a large figure and a small one walking inside. Behind them trailed a remnant soul so faint it was nearly dissolved.

Fu Qi’s gaze sharpened, and that mere shift in his aura was enough to send the remnant soul shrinking back to the doorway in fright.

Lang Jiuchuan stopped Fu Qi and looked toward the man: “This patron Liang — I suppose you should now be addressed as Sir Liang. Congratulations on passing the examinations; may your official fortunes prosper.”

The person before her was none other than Liang Jinfeng — a candidate who had previously come to Wanshi Shop seeking help, having been made a fool of by a poverty-stricken old scholar, causing him to fail the imperial examinations time and again.

Liang Jinfeng released the hand of the child beside him and clasped his hands in a bow: “I am deeply grateful for the Master’s guidance. Master, I have come this time to beg you to save someone.”

Lang Jiuchuan looked at the child, whose head barely reached Liang Jinfeng’s waist. Her gaze swept briefly over the area of his face corresponding to his parents, then she said: “You have come for the sake of this child’s father?”

The child’s eyes went perfectly round. He blinked once — then both knees hit the ground: “Master, please save my father. Ning Shaosi is willing to serve as your beast of burden, to be your slave, your servant, to run ahead and clear your path.”

He knocked his forehead against the floor three times in rapid succession — thud, thud, thud.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at the dazed yet tenacious remnant soul lingering outside, unwilling to disperse. She raised her hand slightly, stopping the boy from kowtowing further, and said: “Your father’s situation is rather troublesome. I’m afraid it will not be as you hope.”

What did she mean?

Ning Shaosi’s tears spilled over — did the Master mean there was no saving him?

Liang Jinfeng also startled and said: “Master, you haven’t even seen the patient yet — how can you already—”

“I have seen him.” Lang Jiuchuan looked at the child with compassionate eyes and said: “Your father has been in an unconscious state for quite some time now, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, yes, that’s right — Brother Ning and I took the imperial examinations together. He passed too — ranked nineteenth in the second tier, even ahead of me.”

“And you?”

“I barely scraped into the very last place in the second tier — pure luck, honestly.” Liang Jinfeng rubbed his hands together, then shifted to the matter at hand: “It should have been a joyous occasion, but joy turned to sorrow. At the Qionglin Banquet, Brother Ning drank a couple cups too many and fell into the river. After they pulled him out, he has been unconscious ever since. We’ve had doctors examine him, and we’ve consulted yin-yang masters too — nothing has been able to wake him. The time for receiving his official appointment is drawing near. If he doesn’t wake soon, Brother Ning will be in terrible trouble — that’s why we’ve come to beg you to save him.”

Lang Jiuchuan shook her head and sighed: “He cannot survive.”