Wu Jing. The Tongtian Pavilion.

Lang Jiuchuan brought Jiang Che and the others out through the shadow paths, and walked directly into A’Piao, who stared at her with wide eyes for a long moment before managing a single sentence: “Nothing else I really need to ask — just one thing: you and my master, what exactly is this relationship between you two that can’t be brought to light?”

Jiang Che and Fu Qi both curiously slanted their eyes over, ears collectively perked up. Curiosity was not solely the nature of humans.

They wanted to know, too.

“We knew each other from humble beginnings. As for now — it’s a relationship of entrusting one’s life to the other. That’s all there is to say.” Lang Jiuchuan blinked, then said: “This Tongtian Pavilion — I have a share in it.”

A’Piao was momentarily stunned.

“Try saying that with any less shame.” Feng Ya’s voice drifted out from the dark void behind them: “Not only is there no recompense for saving your life, but you want a piece of what’s mine?”

Lang Jiuchuan said somewhat sheepishly: “You’re in the Void Realm — you can’t roam freely through the mortal world anyway. Keeping it is just gathering dust. Let me put it to use, at least I can make it serve its purpose.”

“You’ve apparently forgotten three words: ‘compulsive hoarder,'” Feng Ya said with cool mockery.

Lang Jiuchuan rubbed her nose. Who — she had said that at age ten, in the thoughtless blurting of a child. But she hadn’t been wrong either. He had cultivated for tens of thousands of years, through the ancient to the present, doing nothing but digging up other people’s tombs. How could he have accumulated only this little in the way of treasures? Calling him a compulsive hoarder was perfectly accurate.

Lang Jiuchuan said: “Don’t be cross — I’ll make merit incense for you.”

Feng Ya did not appear in the private chamber. In the Void Realm, that unconstrained territory belonging to neither side, he could be master — but to come to the mortal world or the underworld was still to face rejection. Every small world had its own rules.

His forcible seizure and reconstitution of Lang Jiuchuan’s soul had already cost him a grievous price of transgression. To continue coming and going freely, or to act within this realm — that would be taken as a provocation, and the one who would be erased was himself.

This was also one of the reasons Lang Jiuchuan did not allow him to follow at her side. He had helped her enough already. The road ahead, she had to walk herself.

And the merit incense was her most meager form of repayment.

Feng Ya said impassively: “Don’t waste your soul force. Though you’ve been reborn, you are not yet stronger than Tantai Qing right now. Conserve that strength to use against him. Don’t be a fool again.”

He said nothing about living well now that she was reborn, nothing about abandoning thoughts of vengeance and not throwing eggs at stones — because that was not realistic, and if Lang Jiuchuan were the type to listen, he would have had no part in this at all.

Besides — she was already the energy stockpile Tantai Qing was determined to have, and he would by no means let her go easily. In all likelihood, he was already gathering his forces in the shadows.

Lang Jiuchuan smiled: “Making a little merit incense takes no spiritual effort. This merit — I’ll gather it myself.”

The National Preceptor was not easy to deal with — partly because of his extensive cultivation and boundless Daoist arts, and more crucially because he was the faith of many people within Da Phan. That power of faith was one of his sources of strength.

The Lang Jiuchuan of her previous life had accumulated merit, only to be suppressed and used as an energy reservoir. Her journey to Pan City had been in part to sever that connection. But now — with her new Dao body and her divine soul restored to wholeness — she needed the power of faith.

She had to build the foundation to contend with him on equal terms.

And so she had to step before the people of the world, make her name known, accumulate merit, and seize his faith and fortune away from him.

Feng Ya said nothing more, offering only a “take care of yourself” before retreating.

Lang Jiuchuan turned her head, and caught a glimpse of several pairs of eyes gleaming brightly — but the moment she turned, all of them looked elsewhere: one studied the window lattice pattern with great interest, so lovely, the New Year approaches, let’s replace it with something more festive.

A’Piao’s mouth had split nearly into the grin of a doting father — somewhat disrespectful, but from the exchange between the two, it was truly like a pair of bickering destined rivals. He loved to watch it.

Fu Qi said: “Earlier, Lord Gong Qi had the Rong family’s entire storeroom moved to the Tongtian Pavilion for safekeeping. What do you intend to do with it?”

The shadow crossed Lang Jiuchuan’s expression, and she said: “The old Ren family residence has sat vacant for years. Go and find Shen Qinghe to arrange the introduction, have it purchased and renovated. For him, for Ren Yao, and for that elder sister of mine — erect a cenotaph for each of them. Then restore the Ren family ancestral shrine and hire three or four people to maintain and tend the shrine.”

Even though their souls were gone, establishing a shrine, recording their names, leaving a trace of incense — that was because she refused to let them be entirely erased, unknown and unremembered, their very existence forgotten by the world.

“First get the residence purchased and renovated. Before the New Year, I will go in person to erect the cenotaphs, and carve grave markers for each of them.” This was the only sentiment she could offer — not entirely for the sake of karmic cause and effect, but for those who had once shared the name Lang Jiuchuan as she had, and for a fate as similar as theirs had been.

Fu Qi agreed. This was, after all, as it should be.

Lang Jiuchuan continued: “The Rong family fell, but the clan was not entirely extinguished, and not all among them were of wicked heart. A’Piao — help me investigate where they have gone, and send back one or two of the Rong family’s legitimate spiritual artifacts as heirlooms.”

A’Piao raised an eyebrow: “You don’t press your advantage to finish them off — fine. But aren’t you afraid they’ll make a comeback?”

“Dynasties rise and fall within three hundred years, and people and families are the same — they all reach an era of ending. If I were to fall in the future, or the family behind me were to fall into decline, that too would be following the current of the times — the cause and effect of the heavenly cycle.” Lang Jiuchuan shook her head: “Besides, the catastrophes suffered by myself and that elder sister of mine were not the doing of every member of the Rong family. Those with direct karmic ties to what happened have already been settled with — and that is enough. The Rong family’s fall was not solely because I appeared; cause and effect had already been set long in motion. If they are able to rise again one day and restore the glory of their ancestors, then that is their opportunity arriving in its proper time.”

She was not one for indiscriminate killing, nor would she visit blame upon the innocent. Yet neither would she spare the masterminds for the sake of pitying those innocents. One family rises together, one family falls together — a clan ought to understand this.

Perhaps in the future, she and the Lang family would be no different.

Who could claim to leave an eternal legacy through the ages, and who could claim to remain in obscurity generation after generation without ever rising again? It all followed the tide of the times.

Lang Jiuchuan having said so, A’Piao naturally would not go against her wishes. After all, she had claimed a share in the Tongtian Pavilion, and his own master had said nothing about it — what was improper about making use of its resources?

He was particularly sharp and efficient, even presenting information about the new Emperor Tantai Yan — a sixteen-year-old sovereign. Whether or not he could manage state affairs was one thing — with capable ministers guiding him from the side, learning slowly, that was sufficient.

In truth, to call him an emperor was perhaps less apt than to call him a mascot.

Lang Jiuchuan thought the same. Looking at the new emperor’s birth chart of four pillars and eight characters, she worked through them with the tips of her fingers and said: “Imperial special formation — the four pillars are pure and noble, with the Heavenly Minister Star seated in the destiny palace. The eight characters are also reasonably balanced. It is not an unworthy emperor’s chart.”

“I’m not certain about further back, but here are the birth charts of the previous three emperors.” A’Piao handed over another sheet of paper.

Lang Jiuchuan took it, glanced through it, and tapped the paper lightly with her finger: “All of them carefully selected — emperors of stronger fortune and favorable imperial charts. Truly, for the sake of Da Phan’s national fortune, he invested no small amount of thought.”

Before her words had fully fallen, the message-jade token belonging to Gong Tinglan stirred. She formed a seal and listened — it was him, traveling across various places, having noticed something amiss. Two families with lineages stretching over a thousand years had each been wiped out within the past two years, and another had only a single surviving descendant left — and that one, too, was fading fast. He wished to invite her to go and take a look.

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes went cold. Instinctively, she glanced in the direction of the imperial mausoleum.

Can’t write well — need to change the detailed outline for some fresh inspiration. Begging for ideas to descend upon me!