Inside the private chamber, wisps of incense drifted.

Lang Jiuchuan poured a cup of tea and pushed it toward the woman of breathtaking beauty sitting cross-legged across from her, her own eyes carrying a complex array of emotions.

They had grown up together, studied Daoist arts together, exchanged rune-dueling and technique-sparring — and in the brief life Lang Jiuchuan had lived in her previous existence, apart from Tantai Qing, it was this woman — the Tantai Imperial Princess, crowned Holy Maiden — who had spent the most time by her side.

The Imperial Princess was two years older than her, and Lang Jiuchuan had always called her Elder Sister. Yet this sister of hers had always been cold and rigid toward her — seeming perpetually to carry a sense of hostility and wariness, even jealousy, in her bearing.

Lang Jiuchuan had never minded. She knew they were equally lonely and desolate — they were each other’s companions and anchor. But after Pan City, she was no longer the little Qingyi of the past.

The scent of tea filled the air. Tantai Imperial Princess came back to herself and looked at Lang Jiuchuan, who sat serene and motionless on her cushion with an expression of absolute calm, watching her. Her breath caught slightly. “You…”

She parted her lips, then found her throat had gone dry. She had come here on a bold, impulsive instinct and the doubts long buried in her heart — but now that the moment had truly arrived and she was face to face with Lang Jiuchuan, she found she did not know how to begin. Nor did she need to.

“Elder Sister” — with just those two words, Lang Jiuchuan had revealed her identity to her.

There was nothing left to probe or ask. Yet why did this heart of hers ache so unbearably?

Memories she had deliberately sealed away and never dared show — walking through the ritual pacing steps under the moonlight together, a copper coin sword in hand; secretly reading forbidden books together; being scolded by their master together; drawing talismans and arranging formations together — those brief, pure, childhood years all dissolved into nothing, and shattered completely.

The rims of Tantai Imperial Princess’s eyes gradually reddened. The person before her carried an aura that was deep and ice-cold — utterly unlike the blazing brightness of the person in her memories. This appearance was not the one she remembered, nor the one she had previously seen — yet the soul and spirit energy was hers. Which meant that the doubt she had never dared entertain or ask aloud had now become truth in its entirety.

The former Little Qing — she was gone.

She should have understood long ago. From the moment the Grand Preceptor called her “Little Qing,” she should have understood — the true Qing was most likely never coming back. Yet she had not dared to ask, had not even dared to think it. She was afraid of that truth.

Now, the heart that had been suspended in dread finally went still.

“What brings Holy Maiden to come in concealment?” Lang Jiuchuan’s voice was clear and cold, breaking the silence.

“Elder Sister” no more — the distance in that address gave the Tantai Imperial Princess a pang of sourness in her heart. Yet she quickly steadied herself, and when she raised her head again, she had resumed that high and untouchable bearing, as pristine as a heavenly maiden. Her glass-like eyes fixed on Lang Jiuchuan. “I came only to confirm one thing — are you…”

Lang Jiuchuan was silent for a brief moment, then slowly began to speak, her voice betraying no emotion. “What does it matter if I am? What does it matter if I am not? The past is like smoke, long dispersed. Now that you have confirmed it — what then? Between the Holy Maiden and me, we are nothing more than strangers — and hereafter, we may even be enemies.”

The Tantai Imperial Princess’s heart jolted. She was not foolish — she understood the meaning behind Lang Jiuchuan’s words. She bore the name Tantai, of the same bloodline as the Grand Preceptor; if the Grand Preceptor had done something unforgivable to Lang Jiuchuan, then the entirety of the Tantai line was her enemy.

“You and our master…”

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes were glacial, her voice low and frigid. “There is no master. From the moment he raised his hand against me, the bond between him and me as master and disciple was severed.”

She looked at the Tantai Imperial Princess, and suddenly smiled. “Since Elder Sister has come all this way, she cannot leave empty-handed. Shall I tell you a story?”

The Tantai Imperial Princess saw the faintly malicious smile on her lips and instinctively wanted to resist — her heart began to pound erratically. She wanted to flee this place — yet her body was rooted to the spot as if nailed there, utterly unable to move.

And so she heard a shocking tale of a true daughter switched with a false one — and the most horrifying part was not the switch itself, but that someone had so utterly extinguished their own humanity as to sacrifice even the disciple they had raised and taught with their own hands, all for the sake of achieving their Great Dao.

The Tantai Imperial Princess was struck as if by lightning. Her body trembled violently and her mind buzzed and rang, echoing with words her master had once spoken, as she recalled his various deeds over the years — and her complexion turned as white as a sheet of paper.

Was everything he had done truly for the enduring legacy of the Tantai dynasty?

Had he even gone so far as to sacrifice his most beloved, most cherished, most outstanding direct disciple — sealing her within the imperial mausoleum to nourish the dragon vein and sustain the dynastic fortune?

Was this how the Tantai dynasty’s unbroken dynastic fortune had been sustained through the generations?

The Tantai Imperial Princess felt her stomach churn violently. She jerked her head to the side and retched several times.

The truth was too brutal — it overturned everything she had known, leaving her shaken and nauseated all at once. Tears fell of their own accord, whether from some bodily instinct or from raw fury.

As for Lang Jiuchuan’s disappearance — she had imagined many possibilities. Perhaps she had angered the master and been driven away. As for what had happened at Pan City, she had imagined that Lang Jiuchuan had perished while saving the people — how else could a living shrine in her honor have been erected?

She had not dared to think in terms of conspiracy. She was afraid that what she suspected was far less simple than it appeared. She was also afraid of seeing disappointment in her master’s eyes.

Yes — disappointment.

After Lang Jiuchuan suddenly vanished without word or trace, she had often seen disappointment flicker in her master’s eyes when he looked at her. She knew she did not have Lang Jiuchuan’s gift — yet seeing that disappointment still filled her with dread and panic. She could only keep numbing herself with the thought that Lang Jiuchuan had perished while saving the people of Pan City.

But the truth was that the master she had always revered as a divine being was a demon who could coldheartedly exploit even his own direct disciple.

A vast terror and an icy despair seized the Tantai Imperial Princess all at once.

“Is this what your so-called Great Dao amounts to?” she murmured. “All for one person’s selfish desire.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes glinted, and she asked, “What is his Dao?”

“To act for the Tantai dynasty’s enduring legacy through ten thousand generations, and to perfect the Great Dao through…” She answered instinctively — then caught herself with a sharp chill, her eyes turning sharp as lightning. “You’re drawing out my words?”

Lang Jiuchuan looked at her guarded expression and laughed. “You see, Holy Maiden — it is our fate to become enemies.”

Even after she had told her own story, even after she had laid out Tantai Qing’s crimes — the moment Lang Jiuchuan probed for information, the Tantai Imperial Princess’s first instinct was still vigilance and wariness. Was that not the most direct and instinctive response?

The Tantai Imperial Princess stiffened. She opened her mouth to say something in her defense, but in the end said nothing at all.

She suddenly felt she had no face left to show Lang Jiuchuan. She stood, clenched both hands into fists at her sides, and looked down at her from above. “It would have been better if you had never appeared — that way, at least… The Grand Preceptor will not permit Da Zheng’s dynastic fortune to collapse into ruin — he will not allow it, for anyone. You know what he is.”

She turned away, and glanced back over her shoulder, her voice light as a falling feather. “Since you have escaped his control and been reborn into a new life — why return? Why place yourself in danger again? Is being alive not enough?”

Lang Jiuchuan saw her face frozen in its usual coldness — just as it had always been — yet at the depths of those eyes, the tears of a silent struggle flickered and gleamed. She gave a quiet sigh. “Elder Sister, there are some debts that I cannot forget, even if I wished to. I have returned to collect what is owed — to live out this life in order to settle what cause and effect remain. That is my Dao.”

The Tantai Imperial Princess looked at her silently for a long moment, then turned and left.

Behind her, Lang Jiuchuan’s voice reached her ears. “If you do not believe me — you might go down into the imperial mausoleum and see for yourself.”