The radiance faded. The tribulation clouds began to slowly disperse. Heaven and earth returned to stillness. Only the lingering smell of char in the air and the rampaging spiritual energy still churning through it bore witness to the earth-shaking ordeal that had just transpired.

Every living being — including all cultivators in the vicinity — rushed toward this place in a frenzy, as though they had lost their minds, wishing they could flicker there in an instant.

The sky cleared. Seven-colored spirit mist descended. From the heavens, something like celestial music seemed to ring out, in celebration of the cultivator who had scaled the peak, asked the Way of Heaven, and become one of the world’s immortals — freed from the cycles of the five grains, and set upon the path of ascending to the legendary celestial realm, should they continue to cultivate.

Such spirit mist descended to replenish the world after an immortal’s tribulation — the purest and most nourishing substance in existence. Every living creature came racing toward it, seeking even a single share, hoping to absorb a sliver of that fortune.

Old Master Huang, who had been keeping watch near the edge of this dragon vein since early morning, was trembling with excitement in his rat form, greedily absorbing the spirit mist. He had never imagined that helping to steal a corpse — carrying Lang Jiuchuan’s bones out of that place — would bring this kind of immense reward in return.

A tremendous windfall.

Every last trace of the bitterness and resentment he had felt over being coerced before evaporated without a trace, replaced by deep and reverent awe. At such a young age, to have such extraordinary fortune — truly a daughter of Heaven’s mandate.

Feng Ya’s chest surged with trembling feeling. He looked at the figure drifting in an aura of immortal grace and the corner of his mouth lifted, his eyes filled with nothing but pride and profound gladness.

Again and again she had come close to death — yet again and again she had crossed through. Her foundation of the Way would only grow ever more firm and unbreakable.

Lang Jiuchuan stood suspended in the air. The damaged clothing on her body had been replaced with a single smooth gesture — a new set of pale green robes in its place. Her cascading dark hair moved without wind. She drew a twig to her fingers and shaped it into a hairpin, pinning the mass of hair into place. Her eyes shone bright as stars, with faint traces of purple-gold light flowing within them.

The surging spiritual energy around her had already been drawn inward and stilled. Turning her perception inward to examine her meridians and lower abdomen, she found every meridian brimming with purple-gold spiritual force, alive with boundless vitality — and the smooth, flawless Core that had settled within her lower abdomen, rotating gently in the sea of energy, as though drawing in and releasing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, resonating with the primordial chaos energy she had gained through her rebirth — vast and surging without bound.

Lang Jiuchuan exhaled slowly and at length. She raised one hand slowly, feeling the pure and overwhelming power — a sensation unlike anything before, as though she could hold an entire domain of heaven and earth in her grasp. A flash of the most dazzling brilliance passed through her star-like eyes.

Such power — she felt as though she had once touched it before in some distant echo.

She looked toward Feng Ya. Their eyes met. A thought stirred in her heart, and in a single fluid movement she was before him. She broke into a wide grin: “Don’t I look absolutely magnificent and incredibly formidable right now?”

Feng Ya’s mouth twitched: “The immortal has returned to the mortal world.”

One sentence and the image of celestial dignity shattered completely. Only she could manage this.

Lang Jiuchuan turned in a pleased little circle and said: “I believe I’m the savior sent down by the Way of Heaven now. Not yet twenty and already at Core Formation — who in this realm can match that? Without the Way of Heaven tilting things in my favor, even I could not have done it.”

Feng Ya said: “The greater the ability granted to you, the greater the responsibility you must shoulder — often far exceeding what was given. Are you ready?”

“Of course.” Lang Jiuchuan looked in the direction of Wu Jing, her voice calm, yet laced with bone-deep killing intent: “Those who bring chaos to the mortal world and visit suffering upon its people — they must be destroyed.”

“You who have nothing left to lose should not underestimate one who still has everything to protect. He has already used the Emperor’s authority to light fires in all directions and throw this realm into disorder. Be careful.” Feng Ya offered a word of caution.

Lang Jiuchuan nodded. She turned to look at the bones of her previous life, walked forward, and with a sweep of both hands, scooped up a handful of earth and mounded it over them — burying the past.

When the small mound was formed, she pressed a Daoist seal into it.

“Let’s go. It is time to return to the capital and settle all accounts.” Lang Jiuchuan looked at Feng Ya: “That thing — you’ve kept it safe?”

“Rest assured.”

The depths of the imperial palace.

In the instant that Lang Jiuchuan achieved Core Formation and her spiritual presence resonated with the energy of heaven and earth, Tantai Wuji lurched to his feet from the dragon throne, knocking over the jade nine-dragon cup at his side. Both hands pressed flat against the great imperial table as he gasped in rapid, shallow breaths, his complexion ghastly, his voice a low, strangled rasp: “She did it — she truly achieved Core Formation.”

A tremor that he could barely suppress laced through his voice, along with disbelief and an overwhelming shock. His eyes were bloodshot, saturated with wounded pride, jealousy, and contorted fury. Why — he had made so many preparations in his time, been so full of confidence, and still failed. Yet now a girl had done it.

A Core Formation true immortal had emerged in this realm — and it was not him, but her. Heaven was unjust.

Tantai Wuji closed his eyes for a moment and buried the terror that had flashed through them. He was not afraid of Core Formation itself — what he feared was Lang Jiuchuan’s impossible fortune and the breathtaking speed of her ascent. The variable she represented far exceeded anything his calculations had accounted for.

In that earlier age, he had peered into the mechanisms of Heaven, had learned that a bearer of great fortune would undergo reincarnation and be born into this realm — and so he had calculated everything, refining over and over the nurturing remnant formation he had extracted from his sect, using the bearer of great fortune to pave his own road to Heaven. He had achieved it — yet for all his scheming, he had fallen short at the final moment.

Could a bearer of great fortune truly bring about this magnitude of unforeseen change?

Now that Feng Ya had taken his original physical body, he had lost the greatest foundation he possessed and any possibility of recovering his peak strength. With Lang Jiuchuan present, he could never hope to reclaim that body — she would never allow it, and would certainly drain every last drop of power from that form and grind it to nothing.

The original body was a wasted piece — it was off the board entirely. And this imperial body he now inhabited, though it carried the energy of the Son of Heaven and was nourished by national fortune, had never been cultivated. Its constitution was ordinary and its potential limited.

While Lang Jiuchuan — she was a sun just beginning to rise in the east.

A flicker of panic passed through Tantai Wuji — but he drew a deep breath and steadied himself. When he opened his eyes again, they had been replaced by a mad, absolute resolution. His voice fell to a murmur: “The righteous path will not suffer me. Imperial power cannot be sustained. Then let this world sink into ruin along with me.”

A twisted smile crept across his lips.

He watched the chief eunuch come stumbling in through the door in a panic, and a thread of bloodlust gleamed in his eye. Without needing to be told, he knew — it was Gong Xuanyao again, attempting to be heard for the third and fourth time, apparently done with pretense and trying to force his way in now.

He raised a hand in irritation without letting the eunuch say a word. The eunuch’s neck seemed to be seized by an invisible hand and wrenched to one side. He toppled to the ground with a heavy thud.

Tantai Wuji turned his wrist over and summoned the ancient blood-red soul lantern. The demonic energy swirling within it was rampant, as though a silhouette were moving within the lamp’s flame.

A thought stirred within him. The soul lantern transformed — into a tome, its covers a black-crimson made from some unrecognizable hide, exuding an aura of ill omen and hollow dread. He brushed his hand across its surface and revealed the characters inscribed upon it.

The Demonic Scripture of the Hollow Present.

If the righteous path would not have him, he could fall into demonic corruption. When all was accomplished, he could still seize the bearer of great fortune’s vessel — and with it ascend to the realm of Boundless Heaven and achieve mastery. Would that not be fitting?

Tantai Wuji hesitated no further. He opened the demonic scripture. A surge of inauspicious energy spilled outward, spreading rapidly — and everywhere it passed, it stirred the negative emotions of all it touched, drawing out suppressed resentment in sudden, violent eruptions.

“I told them already — he wouldn’t see anyone…” Liuxiu stood within the imperial city, muttering to himself, when without warning his expression fell. He stared in wide-eyed horror at the black-crimson inauspicious energy suddenly spilling from the depths of the inner palace: “That — that is—?”

The Gong Family Head followed the direction of his gaze and his expression filled with dread: “The sign of one falling into demonic corruption!”