As she pierced through the other party’s scheme, Lang Jiuchuan’s black, bright, deep eyes remained fixed on Dao Jicang, not missing a single subtle shift of expression on his face — most especially the flash of terror that swept through his eyes and the even more deeply concealed jealousy when she spoke the words “test my strength.” Both were captured with precision.

So it was true.

Her heart was lit with clarity. Yes — everything added up now.

From stepping through the Lu Family’s door to see to Wen Yue’s condition, to incidentally noticing the mismatch between her Children Palace physiognomy and her destined fate, to tracing the whereabouts of the child who had officially been declared a stillborn yet was clearly still alive — all of it had proceeded with seamless ease, without the slightest hitch or delay. And then finding this hermitage, Dao Jicang’s obstruction and performance, the vicious Life-and-Death Pact, and what was now about to happen — breaking that pact…

One link connecting to the next, each ring locking perfectly into the one before it.

She had followed this script from beginning to end. Her strength had been laid bare for all to see.

Now only the final link remained — breaking the pact would be the most exhausting and draining of all. What level of powerful spiritual consciousness and commanding cultivation would be required to resolve it? If she completed it flawlessly, it would be sufficient proof that her strength had already recovered to what it once was — or had surpassed it, climbing to an even higher level.

From start to finish, the trap they had laid for her was less a test and more an evaluation, a verification. It was an examination of how far she had grown to this day — and perhaps of whether she could be used, and if so, when.

In other words, this trap with all its interlocking rings — its most fundamental purpose was not truly to kill her, at least not now. It was more like a civil service examination: probing to see how deep her knowledge and ability ran.

The Imperial Preceptor, that old fox, was more like a chess player seated on high, at his ease and leisure, moving pieces about at will. He wanted to see how much of her former quality this piece — this “dead but reborn” living move — had recovered, what new changes had taken shape in her, and what important position she could now occupy on his board.

This was treating her as a caged rat, to be toyed with and tested at whim.

Lang Jiuchuan lowered her gaze in cold amusement, looking at her own slender, pale fingertips. Once he knew the full extent of her power, the plan was to kill her again — to fulfill his own supreme Dao, was that it?

Old fox — no, this old monster. His calculations were truly something.

And what of Dao Jicang? Did he even know that from start to finish, he had been nothing but a discardable chess piece? Or perhaps he did know, and was content with it — after all, he himself had been raised under that man’s teaching. A hundred years of devoted service, revering him as master, father, and divine god both — obedience and command had long since been carved into his very bones. To follow his will was simply what he did.

Not everyone was like herself — that traitorous rebel disciple who refused to honor her master. Dao Jicang was precisely the kind of pitiable creature desperate for acknowledgment from his lord, his father, his deity. He was also that man’s most loyal disciple.

“A hundred years of devoted service, and in the end you’ll be discarded whenever he pleases — tell me, what was it all for?” She delivered the line with biting scorn.

Lang Jiuchuan’s gaze was too nakedly mocking and piercing, stabbing Dao Jicang painfully in both eyes. His lips trembled, his expression went cold and sunken. He wanted to argue back, but meeting her eyes — those eyes that seemed to see through everything — he suddenly felt there was no point. Whatever he said would be empty and powerless. He probably couldn’t even convince himself. Better to save what breath remained.

Dao Jicang closed his eyes. A difficult-to-name bitterness and envy surged up within him.

He was no match for her, in so many respects.

This was something the Venerable Master had said — how many times had that phrase not even left his lips before it was already implied. Now, he felt he truly understood. What he lacked was talent she was born with, and a natural, instinctive perceptiveness that no practice could manufacture. And she had only just reached the age of adulthood — if her path ahead went smoothly, to what level would she grow from here? Would she one day touch the immortal Dao — the height that they could pursue their entire lives and never reach?

Dao Jicang felt a moment of dazed confusion. What had he been doing when he was fifteen? Running excitedly to seek praise after finally managing to draw one spirit-driving, evil-suppressing talisman correctly?

Lang Jiuchuan took in every nuance of Dao Jicang’s complicated inner state, but she no longer had any interest in attending to this pitiable wretch’s jealousy. She faced a choice.

She could follow the script — break the pact, and expose the full extent of her strength. From that point on, any move she made would likely face greater obstruction, or put the other side on heightened alert.

Or she could refuse to break it — and the child would remain bound to Dao Jicang, serving as his living human shield, mother and daughter separated, their lives and deaths uncertain. If so, her heart of cultivation would find no peace; it would violate the very purpose of her rebirth. If she could not protect the innocent right in front of her, what grounds did she have to speak of opposing an old monster like the Imperial Preceptor — a man who had stolen a nation for his own gain?

This appeared to be a dilemma from which there was no escape — a humiliating test carefully prepared for her by the Imperial Preceptor. Much like that scene in Pancheng City all those years ago.

And yet, the corner of Lang Jiuchuan’s lips slowly curved into a cold arc carrying with it a sliver of disdain.

To save someone — did that require a reason? Did that require calculation and weighing?

In her heart, it did not. She only needed to follow the conviction of her Dao.

Exposing her strength? So what of it.

She had clawed her way back from the depths of the Nine Abyssal Depths — made possible by Feng Ya exerting himself to carry and deliver her, and the Panguan and the others of the underworld certainly bearing with them the will to defy Heaven’s decree, sending her back. From there, she had cultivated good karmic ties again and again, mending and patching her fate, resolving causes and accumulating merits, until she was reborn through the fires of tribulation and came to understand her past life in full.

What had she endured all of that for?

It was to stand on this land with dignity and clarity, to walk before Tantai Qing and settle accounts with him — to seek justice for the injustice done to her in her previous life.

If she was going to let fear of the enemy knowing her depths make her hesitant and timid — if even the act of saving someone required her to weigh benefits against costs, to look ahead and behind — then what meaning did her rebirth hold? What difference was there between her and a rat hiding in a gutter, scheming and calculating?

Lang Jiuchuan looked at Dao Jicang. She bent slightly at the waist and said, “You want to test the extent of my strength? Then look clearly.”

These words were addressed to Dao Jicang on the surface. But in truth, they felt more like she was speaking through his eyes, saying to the old monster hiding behind them: you want to know — then watch.

Dao Jicang’s pupils contracted.

Lang Jiuchuan, without another word, sealed every major acupoint on his body. She even summoned her talisman brush and forcibly inscribed a Soul-Anchoring Talisman on his forehead, to guard against this biggest variable causing trouble.

She had no fear of displaying her power — but she would not be so arrogantly overconfident as to think she controlled everything. Especially when she knew that old monster was watching from the shadows, she dared not lower her guard in the slightest.

The battle had to be fought, but it had to be entered with full preparation. This was also taking responsibility for her own life.

Seeing that Dao Jicang was unable to resist, Lang Jiuchuan walked to the infant girl’s side. Looking at the child’s faint, shallow breath, her eyes grew clear and resolute. She reached out and touched the child’s forehead, inscribed a Soul-Anchoring Talisman there as well, and said quietly, “I will not let you walk the path I walked.”

This child was just like her — taken away from her mother when she was still a baby. But she would not let her walk the road she had walked.

“Guard me while I work.” She said these words to Jiangche, and then sat cross-legged on the ground, forming seals with both hands. Powerful spiritual consciousness surged outward, an invisible force enveloping both Dao Jicang and the infant girl — until both were fully encompassed within the reach of her spiritual awareness. Only then did she shift her seal formation and begin performing the intricate and perilous ritual to dissolve the pact.