A Fortune-Stealing Life-Nourishing formation — one that seizes the qi fortune and fate of a lineage, converting it into life energy for one’s own use or for another’s.
This method is vicious and insidious, and the cultivation of whoever laid down this formation must be extraordinary. For the ground here is no ordinary ancestral resting place of a small clan — it is the ancestral tomb of a family that has existed for a thousand years. Setting aside everything else, among the Yang clansmen lying here, there are those who performed great, world-shaking feats of merit. Buried in this earth, they continue to nourish their descendants through their own merit and fortune, just as they receive the incense offerings and reverence of those descendants.
As the saying goes, drop by drop fills the river. Each of these figures of great merit interred here made the Yang Family’s clan fortune flourish and prosper. To suppress all of that and convert it for one’s own use, one must possess cultivation of no shallow degree — for if one’s cultivation is too shallow, the formation collapses, one suffers a tremendous backlash, and in the worst case, one loses one’s life.
So then — how many people in the world were capable of laying down a grand killing formation of this scope?
Gong Tinglan’s mind turned rapidly, filtering through every person he knew — until a vague figure surfaced in his mind, and he stiffened. He shook his head. Impossible — it could not be his doing.
Before he could think further, Lang Jiuchuan’s cold voice sounded: “Borrowing the form to leverage the terrain, concealed without a trace — no wonder you could not see through the mysteries of this arrangement. Look carefully. The one who laid this formation did not crudely alter the original feng shui configuration of the Yang Family’s ancestral tombs — and that is precisely his brilliance. Any alteration would have been noticed by a geomancer, alerting the Yang Family. He made no alterations at all. Instead, he used this low hill as his cover.”
This low hill was connected to the earth veins of the ancestral tomb, and was itself what feng shui terminology would call the trailing vein of the Azure Dragon sand — symbolizing protection and vitality. Yet that person had opened up a false acupoint eye within the interior of this trailing vein, using a secret technique to conjure a thread of false vitality to cover the sky and deceive the earth.
Gong Tinglan vaguely understood, and said in a low voice: “As long as this place still shows the auspicious sign of the Azure Dragon spitting its pearl, no suspicion would be aroused.”
The purpose of an ancestral tomb is to flourish with auspicious energy. As long as the ancestral tomb still shows auspicious signs, one would naturally never imagine that the site had long since been tampered with.
Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes held an approving light. “Precisely. It appears to be the Azure Dragon spitting its pearl — but in truth, the false has replaced the true. It guides the most genuine life-qi and vein-fortune of the Yang Family’s ancestral tomb toward this false acupoint, and then redirects it elsewhere, stealing the sky and swapping the sun.”
She gazed into the distance. The feng shui configuration of the Yang Family’s ancestral tombs was that of the Wood-Fire Luminous Formation — primarily benefiting literary achievement and the prosperity of descendants. And it had indeed delivered on that promise, for otherwise the Yang Family would not have endured for a thousand years.
But whoever laid down this Fortune-Stealing Life-Nourishing formation had used this hill as a concealing framework, and must have employed specific materials to suppress and counteract the Fire-离 position and Wood-震 position of the Wood-Fire Luminous Formation.
As she spoke, she could not help but think of her master, who had once taught her how to lay down a heaven-stealing, sun-swapping formation — and her expression grew complicated.
If it was him… then he has put theory into practice.
“I will go down and investigate the interior acupoint of this hill,” said Gong Tinglan, leaping down. Lang Jiuchuan followed close behind. She too wished to see whether it was truly his doing.
With Lang Jiuchuan’s guidance, Gong Tinglan applied a technique and quickly broke through a concealment illusion, discovering an opening just large enough for one person to pass through at a time.
The two exchanged a glance and entered the interior of the low hill. They swiftly found the acupoint eye, and within it, the ritual objects buried there — exactly as Lang Jiuchuan had predicted, all top-grade materials designed to suppress the Fire-离 qi and the Wood-震 energy.
Gong Tinglan’s heart grew heavy. “The false replaces the true — what is diverted away is life-qi and fortune, while what is left behind is dark, inauspicious, decaying energy. The auspicious turns to ominous, yet it is trapped within the formation and will not erupt all at once to draw suspicion. Those of shallower cultivation would not even be able to perceive that the aura left behind is counterfeit. This formation is truly… No wonder — no wonder the Li, Qian, and Yang clans have been slowly fading and dying over these past few decades, rather than all perishing at once. This method is like boiling frogs in gradually heated water, simmering them to death little by little.” He let out a cold, humorless laugh.
His face had gone ashen, that handsome countenance turned cold and hard, his aura sharpening into something glacial.
Lang Jiuchuan moved to the false acupoint eye — the core and eye of the entire formation. It was a delicately constructed transformative talisman array.
At that moment, what her Heavenly Eye perceived was a thread of faintly decaying life-qi flowing into the talisman array, being converted through it into a masterless, refined fortune-energy, then extending outward toward some distant destination.
This was the last remaining fortune of the Yang Family. Weakened as it was, it had been converted and was still being put to use.
Lang Jiuchuan’s body trembled faintly, her eyes cold as shards of ice as she stared at the talisman array, her hands clenching into fists.
The technique behind those talismans — she recognized it with a single glance. It was her master’s handiwork.
“So it really is you, Master,” she said softly, and she laughed — a quiet laugh that never reached her eyes, which held instead a cold that cut to the bone.
Gong Tinglan heard those words, spoken like sleep-talking, and looked at Lang Jiuchuan in disbelief. “You — who did you say?”
“I forgot to tell you. My master from my previous life — Tantai Qing — is the current National Preceptor.” Lang Jiuchuan looked at him fixedly. “This formation was made by his hand.”
A thunderclap seemed to go off in Gong Tinglan’s mind. His eyes went wide. The National Preceptor — she had said the National Preceptor. This aligned with the vague figure that had surfaced in his own thoughts just moments ago. And it truly was him.
But what shocked him even more was: Lang Jiuchuan was his disciple?
“Isn’t the National Preceptor’s disciple the Holy Maiden?” he frowned, feeling as though he had touched upon some great secret.
“It is a long story — I will not elaborate now. I will explain in full later.” Lang Jiuchuan studied the transformative talisman array intently, then extended her spiritual consciousness to perceive it further. Her face slowly lost its color. Then she let out a scornful laugh. “Worthy of you, Master. You truly do value your own life above all.”
“What is it?”
“On top of this formation’s base, he has added another layer — the effect of transferring calamity to a surrogate. He cleverly redirects the karmic grudge force generated by stealing another’s fortune back onto the Yang clan members themselves, heaping even greater ill fortune upon them.” Lang Jiuchuan’s tone was mockingly derisive. “Calculating down to the last detail — truly, that is you.”
He steals from others and then makes those others suffer in his place. How ruthless and absolute.
Gong Tinglan studied her expression and tone from the corner of his eye. No matter how he heard it, there was clearly a profound and bitter enmity between her and the National Preceptor — she sounded almost as though she wanted to run a blade through him. Surely that was not his imagination?
Lang Jiuchuan glanced sidelong at him. “What? Am I wrong? Look at what has been happening to them — on the surface, the ancestral tomb appears undamaged, yet the clan fortune has weakened. From that alone, misfortune would naturally befall them. Add to that a calamity-transfer mechanism helping push ill fortune upon them — would that not amplify the disasters tenfold? And it conveniently conceals the truth that an external force is at work. If not for you and me, even Gong Qi would not have been able to perceive any of this.”
In truth — if she herself had not lived through similar methods in a prior life, and had not rebuilt her Dao-body, merging spirit and soul into one unity with her power grown, she likely would not have detected it either.
“No — no, you are right.” Gong Tinglan felt, for reasons he could not entirely articulate, that right now it was best not to contradict or oppose her in any way. The consequences would not be ones he wished to see.
He swallowed, then said: “Then tell me — can this formation be undone? Since you and I are here, if we were to forcibly break it, would the Yang Family’s weakened clan fortune at least cease to drain away?”
Lang Jiuchuan sighed and shook her head. “I know him better than you do. He considers himself possessed of talent beyond the ordinary, and is extremely arrogant. He does not deign to concern himself with ordinary techniques and formations. For him, the more difficult the challenge, the more worth pursuing — it is what allows him to grow quickly. He would never tolerate flaws in his own formations. He has maintained this formation for several decades now; it has become entangled inextricably with the Yang Family’s fortune. If you and I were to forcibly break it, that faint, residual fortune would instantly collapse — and Yang Xiuyong would die on the spot.”