After suddenly hearing the earth-shattering truth from Lang Jiuchuan, Cui Shi completely collapsed. She fell into a deep unconsciousness, her breath growing weaker by the day, impervious to all medicine.

This time, it was far more dangerous than any of the previous near-death episodes. The aura of death clung around her without dispersing, stirring restlessly and seeking to entwine itself around her, intending to drag her utterly into the abyss. Her soul grew unstable — there were signs at any moment that it might leave her body.

This was also one of the reasons Lang Jiuchuan had not concealed and left unspoken the truth of how she herself had died so wretchedly in her previous life. Had she said it, Cui Shi would likely have perished on the spot.

But now, if she still could not wake, if her breath continued to fade, she would eventually die in her sleep regardless.

Cui Shi no longer wished to live.

Or rather — she no longer knew what there was to hold on to, to make the struggle of staying alive worthwhile. Better to die.

After Lang Jiuchuan administered acupuncture once more and still saw no sign of Cui Shi wishing to wake, she grew somewhat exasperated. Her expression tightened, not a trace of warmth to be seen.

“Young Miss, why does the Madam still not wake?” Cheng Nanny’s eyes were swollen red. She choked on her words as she asked.

Madam Cui had seemed to hover near death’s door time and again over this past year, and this time, there was a feeling that Madam had already stepped through it — that she no longer wished to open her eyes.

“She does not wish to live, so naturally she does not want to wake,” Lang Jiuchuan said coldly, looking at her complexion, now the color of gold paper, her vitality draining away with every passing moment. “I will pull her back only this once. If I cannot pull her out, then I shall put on mourning garments.”

She had no time to idle by Cui Shi’s bedside waiting for her to wake — she still had a great vengeance yet to settle.

Cheng Nanny’s heart lurched.

Lang Jiuchuan could have walked away without a backward glance, severing all ties with the Lang Family from that point forward. After all, the enemy she faced going forward was Tantai Qing — someone immensely difficult to deal with. Not drawing them into the conflict would be better. Cutting ties would be the cleaner choice.

But watching the woman who was her biological mother by blood destroy herself over the truth — in the end, she could not bring herself to harden her heart completely. When it came down to it, Cui Shi had spent all those years, however stubbornly, in pursuit of her own true daughter. How could Lang Jiuchuan remain indifferent?

She would pull her back just this once. Consider it paying back the debt of being given life.

Lang Jiuchuan dismissed everyone around her, lit a stick of soul-soothing incense, and sat cross-legged at the foot of Cui Shi’s bed. Her hands formed a seal, and at her fingertips, a thread of gentle yet powerful spiritual consciousness condensed, and she lightly pressed it against the center of Cui Shi’s brow.

She entered the dream prison.

The moment Lang Jiuchuan’s spiritual consciousness entered, she paused. There were no vivid scenes of any kind — only boundless, suffocating black mist that seemed to press the very air from one’s lungs, and not even Cui Shi’s shadow was anywhere to be seen.

Yet the bond between mother and daughter drew her onward. Lang Jiuchuan quickly sensed a direction and began to walk. The thick black mist parted on all sides the moment it encountered her spiritual consciousness.

Cui Shi was huddled alone at the center of the black mist, knees drawn to her chest, her expression vacant — like a forsaken and pitiful child. A layer of dense, stagnant deathly energy that would not disperse wrapped around her entire body, and her sobbing was filled with pain and hopelessness.

“Why do you not wish to wake?” Lang Jiuchuan stood still. Her voice was cool and clear, like winter snow, piercing through the black mist.

Cui Shi jolted. She raised her head, her eyes swimming with tears, and looked at the figure before her. For the briefest of moments, a flash of brightness sparked in her gaze — but it was immediately swallowed by endless pain. “Why have you come? Go. I have no face to see you, and no right to go on living. I killed that child. It was all my fault. I will go down to her and beg her forgiveness.”

Her voice was hoarse and shattered, filled with self-reproach. She wanted only to sink into this eternal darkness and escape — her will to die was absolute.

She was not being theatrical. Having heard the truth of how that innocent child had died so wretchedly, her despair was no less than what she had felt when she first discovered that the child was not the one she had borne. But compared to that time, this despair was more vast and boundless — like countless ghostly hands tearing at her lungs and heart. Her cold indifference had killed an innocent child. And she could not even bring vengeance down on the enemy with her own hands.

With all of this — what right did she have to live on?

Better to die.

“If you die, will that atone for your sins? If you die, will that bring your elder sister back to life? If you die, even the head of the Rong Family — long since with his soul scattered and dispersed — and most of all, the National Preceptor Tantai Qing, who orchestrated everything from behind the scenes, will applaud and rejoice. No — that is not right. People like them, who stand high above all others and believe they have everything under their control, would probably merely feel contempt. Who are you to them? You are not worth their notice.” Lang Jiuchuan’s voice suddenly turned sharp. “A foolish act that only pains those who care for you and delights your enemies — knowing this, do you still wish to die?”

Boom.

Lang Jiuchuan’s voice struck like a thunderclap, detonating in the turbid depths of Cui Shi’s consciousness. Cui Shi’s body shuddered violently. She stared at her, dazed.

“If you end yourself right now, aside from breaking the hearts of Cheng Nanny and everyone in the Lang Family who cares for you, and adding yet another tragedy to the Lang Family’s sorrows, what will it accomplish?” Lang Jiuchuan said coldly. “The National Preceptor, who caused a mother and daughter to be torn apart, who caused your daughter to die in misery, who brought about the deaths of all your children of flesh and blood — he is revered like a living deity by countless common people across the land. They offer him their worship and devotion. He roams free, above all accountability, and may very likely go on to harm even more people. Are you truly content to watch the one who caused all this live out his days in such joy and ease?”

“Cui Huijun. Do not make me look down on you. What you should be doing — not wallowing here in self-pity, seeking death as an escape — but opening your eyes. And looking. Looking as those who toy with fate and slaughter the innocent are driven, step by step, toward their own annihilation, until they plunge into the deepest hell and receive the retribution they deserve.”

Each question struck like a hammer of immense weight, crashing down hard upon the dead stillness of Madam Cui’s heart, sending violent waves surging outward. The deathly gray in her eyes was gradually replaced by something complex.

Hatred. Indignation. And rage.

“Retribution — will he truly face it?”

“Why would he not?” Lang Jiuchuan straightened with pride, lifting her chin. “His retribution is me.”

Madam Cui trembled as though struck — as though she had been awakened. She lunged forward and seized the hem of Lang Jiuchuan’s garment, clinging to it like a drowning person grasping at the last rope to safety. Fresh tears poured from her eyes, yet they were no longer those of pure despair. “I — what can I do? I am such a useless person…”

“Live well,” Lang Jiuchuan said, looking at her, extending her hand. “Live with clarity, with a heart of penitence. Use the rest of your life to repent, to make amends, to accumulate merit for your elder sister.”

Even if her soul was gone now — perhaps one day, with merit accumulated, with a divine miracle brought forth, many years from now, she would be born again with a new consciousness.

Madam Cui placed her hand in Lang Jiuchuan’s. It was as though she were pulled forcefully forward — in the waking world, her eyelids fluttered violently. She let out a long and pained moan, and slowly opened her eyes.

Lang Jiuchuan had already opened her own eyes a step before her. She retracted the seal, steadied her breathing. Her complexion was somewhat pale. She looked toward the figure on the bed.

Their eyes met.

Cui Shi’s tears flowed unceasingly, but her gaze was fixed on Lang Jiuchuan — insatiable, unwilling to look away.

Lang Jiuchuan pressed her lips together. She reached over and took Cui Shi’s hand. “Though my elder sister and I suffered tragic fates, the heavens were not entirely unkind to us. My soul and her bones and blood have reshaped a Daoist body. I stand before you as your true and rightful daughter. You should be grateful.”

Cui Shi nodded.

Lang Jiuchuan patted her arm. “Rest well. In a few days, come with me to set up a memorial tomb for elder sister’s family.”