At the very moment the Dragon Maw upon the roof of the Golden Phoenix Hall was struck down by lightning, Lang Jiuchuan was at her own shop, being thoroughly bombarded with questions by A’Piao and Fu Qi. She had gone to the Prince Jing’s residence on a visit and ended up in an open confrontation with the Rong Family — that didn’t exactly fit her usual nature of advancing slowly and deliberately.
“Advancing slowly and deliberately? Had there not been so many people present at the time, I would have fought him to the bitter end,” said Lang Jiuchuan, a killing chill in her eyes.
She did wish to kill the Rong Family head — she genuinely did. But at the time, such an all-out battle had not been possible. Had she fought to the death without holding back, those elders would certainly have stepped in to obstruct her. And if she could not finish him in a single blow, the tide would most assuredly have turned against her.
Fortunately, the outcome was not so bad after all. He and the Rong Family now had neither face nor reputation to speak of — was that not more satisfying, in its own way, than a clean death?
To cast down with his own hands the heir he had gone to such great lengths to retrieve — to shatter hope by his own doing — that was splendid.
Noticing the troubled expressions on A’Piao and Fu Qi’s faces, Lang Jiuchuan said: “This was the first time I have ever crossed blades with the Rong Family head directly. It was risky, yes — but it was also a good opportunity. The representatives of the major Xuanzu clans were all present; it was the perfect moment to make them see clearly the abnormality in Rong Huanxuan’s spiritual roots. I hadn’t anticipated that this pressure would actually manage to force the Rong Family head into crippling his own Young Lord with his own hands. That pent-up anger — it has finally been released.”
At the time, she had only meant to test the waters — even if the Rong Family head refused to act, the confrontation would still have put a thorn in his side. She had never genuinely expected he would truly choose to destroy Rong Young Lord for the sake of preserving the Rong Family’s reputation.
She pressed her hand over her chest, and felt that the deep-seated, lingering grievance that belonged to the original soul was growing fainter with each passing day.
It won’t be long now.
The day of total vengeance and reckoning — it was drawing near.
Though those corrupted spiritual roots could not be reclaimed, it didn’t matter. Once she settled this entanglement of cause and effect, she could be reborn from the ashes.
“The greatest unexpected gain, though, was discovering the relationship between those two — I had never anticipated they would be father and daughter. I’m genuinely curious what transpired within the Rong Family.” Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes held an expression of bemused interest.
A’Piao said: “The Rong Family head prizes his reputation above all else. Moreover, he has been on the path of Dao cultivation for many years and stands as the head of his clan — he would naturally be careful to guard his good name, and would never jeopardize his own future or gamble with his family’s honor. Furthermore, given his position and status, he could have any cultivation partner he desired. He would have had no reason to turn his eyes toward his daughter-in-law. So the matter of the Rong Young Lord being his biological daughter is most likely an accident.”
Lang Jiuchuan said flatly: “Even if it was an accident, he can never wipe away that stain. No matter how elaborately he crafts the story of Rong Huanxuan’s origins, he cannot conceal the fact that he had a corrupt entanglement with his daughter-in-law and produced an illegitimate child from it.”
“That may not be entirely true. If he kills Xi Yun, then who Rong Huanxuan’s birth mother was — that would be difficult to say with certainty.”
“It doesn’t matter. If he is capable of going that far, my only regret would be that I couldn’t kill Xi Yun with my own hands.” Lang Jiuchuan idly toyed with the bone-bell, a dark glimmer moving through her eyes.
It seemed she ought to make her move against Xi Yun before the Rong Family head got there first.
“From this day forward, let me remain at your side,” said Fu Qi, his brow furrowed. “You’ve given the Rong Family a devastating blow to their pride this time — they’ve lost their Young Lord and had such a shameful scandal dragged into the open. The Rong Family head will undoubtedly strike back with everything he has.”
A’Piao nodded in agreement: “Exactly. Besides, ghost cultivators don’t need sleep — with him keeping watch in the shadows, there would be an extra pair of eyes.”
Lang Jiuchuan said: “But I have Jiangche with me.”
During the confrontation at the Prince Jing’s residence, she hadn’t let Jiangche move even once. After the Rong Family head arrived, she had quietly hidden it away further still — the purpose being to hold certain cards in reserve. She couldn’t reveal everything she had at once and let others take precautions accordingly.
A’Piao let out a dismissive sound: “It hasn’t been in a mortal body that long, honestly. That level of cultivation — it can manage a surprise attack no one expects. But as a protector? That falls a little short.”
Jiangche’s fur bristled entirely. It bared its teeth at A’Piao and let out a low, threatening growl.
Who are you looking down on, exactly?!
“Just a little milk tiger, after all,” Fu Qi added as well.
Lang Jiuchuan reached out and ruffled Jiangche’s fur thoroughly. “A surprise attack where no one expects it can often achieve effects no one anticipates. That’s perfectly good enough.”
Smoothing the fur in the right direction — and sure enough, Jiangche was soothed and settled, its eyes narrowing contentedly.
While they were still in the middle of conversation, Lang Jiuchuan suddenly saw a paper crane come flying in from outside. She raised an eyebrow, walked out, and extended her hand.
The paper crane settled into her palm. She unfolded it — and found it was a message from Gong Tinglan. After reading it, Lang Jiuchuan let out a cold laugh: “And that is the full extent of the Rong Family head’s vision — he thinks a ploy like this can humiliate me?”
Through Gong Tinglan’s network of information channels, word had reached him that the Rong Family head had sought an audience with the Emperor An’he, and had proposed that she be made to enter the Prince Jing’s residence as a widow who had not yet completed the marriage ceremony — to keep a widow’s vigil at his memorial tablet for the rest of her days.
Slight harm. Great insult.
A’Piao had also read the words written on the paper. That face, usually sharp-witted and carrying just a hint of shrewdness, was now filled entirely with contempt and fury. He spat in disgust: “That old dog of a Rong Family head — his own daughter has just been crippled, and instead of figuring out how to manage that disaster and quickly find a new heir worthy of the position, he has the leisure to go and whisper such a vile, petty scheme into that dog of an emperor’s ear — making you go keep a widow’s vigil for that worthless Prince Jing? Pfeh! The man is corrupt enough himself, but no — he has to spread it to others. The sheer revulsion of it!”
“But it is effective,” said Fu Qi. He had once been a military general — both he and the family behind him had always acted in accordance with the emperor’s will. Lang Jiuchuan cultivated the Dao, but she had never taken religious vows or entered a monastery. She was still the daughter of a loyal and meritorious official. If she refused to comply, the charge of defying an imperial edict could be brought to bear against the Lang Family.
And she could not sever herself entirely from the Lang Family, either — she would inevitably need to consider the Lang Family members who lived their lives under the shadow of imperial power.
“How do you intend to break this situation?” Prince Jing was already dead — and now they wanted her to keep a widow’s vigil over him. That was even more revolting than if he had been alive for her to be married off to. This was simply going too far.
Lang Jiuchuan curved her lips in a smile: “If he can overpower the marriage pact of the Underworld, then that proves the Tantai bloodline is strong and flourishing, and I’ll find somewhere else to lie low and endure. Makes no difference to me.”
But if he couldn’t overpower it — then death would simply keep coming.
A’Piao said with unconcealed disdain: “To be entangled with someone like that — doesn’t it make your skin crawl?”
Lang Jiuchuan blinked. “Why don’t you go ask your Assembly Master for help? Have him speak up for me?”
“You have the Panguan Cui watching over you — why disturb my Master’s seclusion?” A’Piao rose to his feet. “I’m going now. As for the Rong Family’s side — you take care of yourself.”
Lang Jiuchuan pursed her lips. But she didn’t know that what A’Piao said with such cold indifference — the moment he returned to the Tongtian Assembly, he went straight to seek an audience with his master, Feng Ya, and laid out her situation in full.
He himself may not have cared, but Prince Jing — what manner of creature was that? For her to keep a widow’s vigil for him — just imagining it made his skin crawl.
Master’s little rival — even if the matter between them had not yet been settled, she ought not to be looked down upon and humiliated like this by those Xuanzu clans.
“Master, you have to speak up for that rival of yours. If that old dog of a Tantai actually loses his mind and agrees to this proposal, that would be pouring filth directly onto her name — pinning her to a pillar of shame, making her the laughingstock of every street corner and tea house for years to come.”
Feng Ya was seated at the game board, moving black and white pieces in an unhurried game against himself. Upon hearing this, he said with calm indifference: “No need to interfere. If she cannot even break out of this situation on her own, she had best find a deep mountain somewhere and retreat from the world in quiet cultivation. She can put aside any talk of revenge and reckoning.”
Besides, an autumn grasshopper couldn’t keep leaping about for much longer anyway.
A’Piao was a little deflated, and didn’t dare say more. He could only retreat with a disgruntled air, catching the eye of the ghost general and gesturing meaningfully — bring it up more, would you?
Feng Ya looked toward the seven-star soul lamp, where the soul within was growing ever more solid and substantial. The candle’s soft glow traced the contours of his face — clean and severe, coldly handsome. Those dark eyes, bottomless as an abyss, reflected at this moment a clear flicker of amusement — and beneath that, a deep, bone-chilling revulsion.
“Keep a widow’s vigil?” He said quietly. “The base nature of the Tantai Xuanzu — it has truly never changed. Ha. How revolting.”
The tip of his finger applied the barest increase of pressure. The black jade chess piece he had been turning between two fingers — hard as iron — crumbled silently to powder and sifted down through the gaps between his fingers in a soft cascade.