Lang Jiuchuan stepped out of the Ren family residence and paused at the gate, turning to look back. Above the courtyard, dark clouds were gradually parting, revealing a sliver of blue.

Before long, these shadows would no longer hang over this place.

Jiangche perched on her shoulder as always, gazing toward the residence. Wu Youzi was still inside and had not come out — he had said he needed a little more time alone.

“Even though we had already uncovered some traces of this before, the moment that bloodline thread appeared — it still made my hair stand on end. What do you suppose the Rong clan head was thinking?” Jiangche found the workings of the human mind rather difficult to follow.

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes grew deep and still. “I don’t know. Perhaps his original intention was to give this so-called granddaughter a decent place to be raised. Or perhaps it was a precaution.”

Raised in a marquis’s household, living as an upper-class noblewoman — perhaps not as privileged as life within the Xuan Clan, but still a better existence than that of a common commoner. He simply never anticipated the tenacity of a mother’s conviction. He hadn’t foreseen that Madam Cui would be so ruthless and so fixed in her belief — stubbornly certain in what she had witnessed, so much so that she couldn’t even bear to have this child living in her presence.

And so that child had been kept on a farm estate her entire childhood. What little warmth there was came from the Lang matriarch. As for a father’s and mother’s care — that was a luxury she could only dream of.

Jiangche looked at her and said, “Her identity has been entirely confirmed. Now only you remain.” It licked the corner of its mouth and said, “Even if found, the body is probably nothing but bones by now.”

Ripples moved through Lang Jiuchuan’s gaze. “No matter. As long as my soul still exists, even if I end up attached to some random living creature the way you are — I will drag out whoever killed me and make them pay in kind. Blood for blood.”

Jiangche sighed. “This so-called rebirth of yours feels more like being sent back to undergo tribulation all over again.”

What kind of a rebirth was this grim and bleak?

Lang Jiuchuan walked out of the long alleyway, and one quiet sentence drifted from her lips, carried away on the wind: “Coming to this place — it is all cultivation. Bitter cultivation is cultivation too.”

Inside the Ren family residence.

Wu Youzi sat alone beside the lake in soundless weeping. Not far away, Sande looked at his head of silver hair with deep worry.

On the surface, Master had always played the part of the dissolute wanderer, living recklessly without care. But his heart — when had it ever not been lonely? Now, learning of the catastrophe that had befallen the woman he loved, and the true story of the young junior martial sister he had never once laid eyes on — it was almost certain that Master harbored thoughts of death.

Sure enough, after walking through every inch and corner of the residence, Master said to him simply: “Return to the clan lands.”

Some people had lived long enough.

Sande’s lips moved, but in the end he said nothing. He only silently pushed the wheelchair forward.

Even if the path ahead were paved with blades and spears, Master would crawl his way through. Once he had made his decision, he did not look back.

At the same time, within a tranquil mountain valley gorge rich with spiritual energy, high upon a sheer cliff face, there was a natural Daoist cave. A figure sat inside it cross-legged with hands forming seals before a stone wall etched with Daoist symbols, spiritual energy swirling and circling around him, a golden radiance flickering within its currents.

All at once, a tremor ran through the space between his brows. Pain struck his chest, and he was forced to open his eyes, pulled unwillingly out of his closed-door cultivation.

Those eyes — as deep and unfathomable as a still, dark pool.

He furrowed his brows. He extended his right hand, long, elegant fingers counting out a divination. After a moment, his brow furrowed tighter still, then relaxed. He took out a sheet of yellow ritual paper, murmured a few words into it, then with measured, deliberate movements folded it into a paper crane and walked out of the cave.

He surveyed the spiritual energy lingering and coiling through the mountain peaks, then swept his sleeve — a deep purple robe embroidered with intricate talismanic patterns. The paper crane in his hand began to stir and flutter, drifting slowly down the mountain.

The paper crane followed its instructions to a hall, landing on the shoulder of a young woman. It spoke in a human voice: “A’Qing, return to Wu Jing and look around. See if there is anything unusual.”

Something had seemingly slipped beyond the reach of his control.

The young woman gave a faint shiver, lowering her long lashes. “Understood.”

The Rong Family clan lands.

Xi Yun woke violently from a nightmare, her entire body drenched as though she had been pulled from water. She gasped in heaving, ragged breaths, her throat raw and burning.

She shook her way out of bed, stumbled to the table, grabbed the teapot, and lifted it to pour water into her mouth — only to find it completely empty. Enraged, she hurled the teapot to the floor and rasped furiously, “Where in the world is everyone?”

She had been placed under house arrest by the clan head. Everyone was watching her become a laughingstock. All the flattery and grandeur and authority that had once filled her courtyard were gone. The fawning and obsequious attentions had transformed into cold disdain and deliberate neglect. Even the servants — people who had once been fit only to receive her contempt — now dared to mock her behind her back and defy her to her face.

A moment later a young maidservant hurried inside, barely finished with her curtsy before Xi Yun kicked her to the ground. The girl’s hand caught a shard of the broken teapot, which drove into her palm. She cried out in pain.

“Useless thing, what kind of service is this? Bring me tea,” Xi Yun snapped hoarsely, casting not a single glance at the wound or the blood now welling from the maid’s hand.

The maidservant quickly responded in agreement, her lowered eyelids hiding the resentment and grievance roiling beneath. Even a fallen noblewoman was still a noblewoman — not someone a low-ranking maid like herself could afford to oppose.

The woman who brought the tea was the Nanny who ordinarily attended to Xi Yun. She cast a glance at Xi Yun’s darkened expression, poured the water, and handed it over. Ever since the young mistress’s downfall, Madam had grown increasingly unpredictable in her moods.

Xi Yun drained two cups in quick succession and asked, “Is there still someone keeping watch over the young mistress’s courtyard?”

Nanny replied, “Only a few maids attending her.”

Xi Yun stiffened. “Liu Xiao is no longer there?”

“I’ve heard the clan head reassigned him to the Dao Hall to teach.”

The Dao Hall was the Rong Family’s clan school, where disciples of exceptional talent went to study the five Daoist arts. Liu Xiao had formerly been Rong Huanxuan’s guardian elder. Now that Rong Huanxuan was destroyed, he had been transferred to the Dao Hall as a teaching elder.

This was not merely because Rong Huanxuan was now worthless and didn’t merit wasting an elder’s time — it was also squeezing every last bit of use out of the man while he could be used.

Xi Yun slammed down another teacup, furious. “Why has the clan head not punished him? Why has he been elevated to the Dao Hall? Does he deserve it? If he had fulfilled his duties as a guardian elder, how would the young mistress have fallen to this state?”

Nanny thought to herself: naturally, because there were so few ranking elders left in the Rong Family that he had no choice but to keep them close.

But she dared not say that aloud. She only said quietly, “Madam, the clan head has already issued a clan decree stripping the young mistress of her position. The entire clan is now only to call her Miss Xuan.”

“What?” Xi Yun’s entire body trembled. Miss Xuan. Not even First Young Lady — this was meant to leave her daughter with no place to hold her head high, and to leave Xi Yun herself without a shred of dignity.

He truly had no heart.

“I’m going to see the clan head!”

“The clan head has entered closed-door cultivation and cannot be disturbed. Madam had better consider your own situation — and the young miss’s. If you anger the clan head further, I fear…”

Xi Yun let out a sharp sound and began pacing back and forth. Her gaze fell on the bronze mirror standing floor-length against the wall. In it, she saw a woman with a haggard face, heavy bags beneath her eyes, and a streak of white already appearing at her temple. She lurched toward the mirror, trembling hands moving across her face, unable to believe that this was what she looked like now.

The high and imperious, breathtakingly beautiful, haughty and insufferable Fourth Madam of the Rong Family was no more. It had all crumbled the moment her identity as the young mistress’s mother was stripped from her. Without the young mistress, she had lost her claws and teeth — she was now a fallen dog, fair game for anyone who wished to take a kick.

Rong Huanxuan was no longer her pride and radiance.

She was her humiliation.