Near the dragon vein of the Void, there was a mountain called Void Mountain. In a valley of blossoming wildflowers, there was a burial mound. On a gravestone carved from willow wood, the name of Tantai Princess was written.

This was her grave.

Years ago, when the National Preceptor had seized her body and made his way to the imperial mausoleum — only to be defeated by Lang Jiuchuan and Feng Ya — he fled using the Blood Soul Lamp, abandoning Tantai Princess’s physical body. Lang Jiuchuan had naturally carried it out and chosen a place to bury her.

Now, more than ten years had passed. The person had long since gone to her final rest, yet Lang Jiuchuan found herself thinking of days gone by, of all the things that had come and gone. In her eyes there was no grief — only release, and a quiet acceptance of what was.

Tantai Princess had been perceptive. Perhaps she had seen long ago the National Preceptor’s possessive desire — not the desire of a man for a woman, but the desire of an owner for property. The satisfaction and possession a craftsman displays toward a work he has carefully cultivated and refined. He could not tolerate a single deviation, and he could not tolerate others coveting it. She had not given voice to this because she did not fully understand where that yearning would ultimately be directed. She only sensed intuitively that the more Lang Jiuchuan grew, the more outstanding she became — the heavier and more fixed the ambition in the National Preceptor’s eyes.

And then, she had no opportunity to speak of it again.

For some people, the ending of their entire life had already been arranged in the unseen workings of fate.

She was one of them. So too was Tantai Princess.

“I did not lay you to rest in the Tantai ancestral tomb, but chose a separate place. I imagine you would have preferred it this way.” Lang Jiuchuan cleared away the weeds from the burial mound and noticed that behind the grave, a ginseng plant had grown. Judging by the stem and leaves, it was already ten years old — its spiritual energy somewhat richer than an ordinary wild ginseng.

Feng Ya glanced at it and said: “After the battle to slay the demon, you offered your soul as a sacrifice to heaven and prayed for the spiritual rain to fall, scattering the demonic energy entirely. All living things in this world have benefited — spiritual energy is showing signs of revival. It must have been among those that gained from it.”

“And yet it grew right on Ayue’s burial mound and never left,” Lang Jiuchuan murmured, as though arriving at some understanding. She crouched down and stretched her hand toward the ginseng’s stems and leaves. A feeble spiritual sense on the plant trembled, yet it was greedy for the spiritual energy emanating from her and let its stems and leaves cling to her hand, drawing in her energy hungrily.

The softness that came into Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes was unmistakable. She touched its leaves gently and said: “No divine soul, yet with bones and a physical body intact, a residual spiritual sense was able to take up residence — truly gaining the benefit.”

Feng Ya raised an eyebrow. Was she saying that the spiritual sense of this ginseng belonged to Tantai Princess?

“Whether it is or not — you and I are connected by fate. What of it if I bestow upon you a fortune?” Lang Jiuchuan coalesced a point of spiritual power and channeled it into the ginseng’s roots and stem, murmuring a quiet blessing: “The path of cultivation stretches on and on. I wish that one day you will at last achieve the righteous fruit.”

The moment the spiritual power entered the stem, the small ginseng seemed instantly more alive — its stems as vibrant a green as its leaves, transforming into a heavenly treasure impossible to overlook.

Though there was no wind, its leaves swayed. One leaf even curled itself around Lang Jiuchuan’s finger, as though responding to her words.

Lang Jiuchuan tapped that leaf lightly until it loosened, then rose to her feet, cast one last look at the burial mound, and departed at a leisurely pace.

Past lives and present lives. The cycle of birth and death. Each has its own cause and effect.

All things have their own way.

Lang Jiuchuan descended from Void Mountain and caught sight of a white figure speeding toward her. Her brows instantly relaxed, and a genuine smile broke across her face.

“Jiangche.” Her voice was filled with delight. She opened her arms wide and caught the white tiger that leapt toward her — powerful and impressive — and buried her cheek against its tiger’s flank.

Feng Ya watched from the side and clicked his tongue. The dignified bearing of an immortal — nuzzling something like a pet. Particularly ridiculous.

But it also brought to his mind an image of her as a child. In those carefree young years, she had always loved catching small fluffy things to play with — cats, dogs, any furry beast she could find, living or otherwise, had been subjected to having its fur ruffled by her. The thicker the fur, the more she especially loved them.

He never understood what was so entertaining about it. Sentimental in the most tiresome way — and look at this spineless white tiger, every bit a tiger, yet choosing to act like a pampered little cat. Utterly ridiculous.

Jiangche, having been caught and nuzzled by Lang Jiuchuan, felt all of its accumulated grievances drain away and was left feeling simply aggrieved. “You heartless creature — just because you’ve come into your own now, are you going to abandon the one who stayed by your side through hardship? Now you’re running off and leaving me again?”

Lang Jiuchuan laughed despite herself and chided: “Was I not just giving you space to cultivate in seclusion without disruption?”

She stroked its thick fur over and over, her voice gentle: “Fortunately, after the battle to slay the demon, you are all still here.”

In those days, both Fuqi and Jiangche had steeled themselves to die, shielding her divine soul and never truly being sacrificed to the great formation. They had both been her final contingencies — and she had gambled correctly.

The great battle against the demon had been the act of saving the world and delivering living beings from suffering — a deed of immense merit. Everyone who participated had accumulated such merit. Fuqi had even been able to enter the underworld to cultivate as a Night Wandering Spirit, while Jiangche had closed in seclusion with her to reconstruct their physical body. Each had found their own path. Most fortunate.

“But you have already achieved the righteous fruit of cultivation. I…” Jiangche’s mood fell.

Lang Jiuchuan’s presence was faint and borderless — not because she was deliberately suppressing it, but because she had cultivated to the state of great completion. This realm of heaven and earth could no longer hold her. Before long, she would have to ascend. If she stayed, she would only be met with rejection by the laws of heaven and earth.

Such was the rule of the Heavenly Way. No matter who you were, you were to follow and abide by it.

Back then, when Feng Ya had insisted on intervening in the affairs of this world, he had been stripped of his standing as a Ghost Immortal — precisely for this reason.

Fortunately, having participated in saving the world, he carried the weight of great merit, and had thus been freed from the Void. In time, he would once more reach the heights of the immortal path.

Lang Jiuchuan patted Jiangche’s tiger head and said: “You have gained sentience, and moreover carry the merit of saving the world. When I ascend in the future, I will naturally take you with me. I told you long ago that you would be my spirit companion — I never said it as an empty promise.”

Jiangche was stunned.

Lang Jiuchuan had already formed the hand seals and recited the incantation and, without any forewarning to Jiangche, re-bound them in a contract.

Jiangche was both elated and startled. Its mouth, however, ran ahead as always: “You — what kind of person are you? Who forms a contract without asking for consent? Are you part bandit?”

“Yes. When you are powerful enough to best me in a fight, then you will have the standing to negotiate terms with me — to speak of whether you are willing or unwilling. Until then, you are entirely at my mercy.” Lang Jiuchuan struck an exaggeratedly smug pose.

This was no different from the principle of the strong dominating the weak. With her current level of cultivation, contracting a spirit companion was simply a matter of overpowering them if they were inferior to her.

Yet Jiangche was entirely delighted by this bandit behavior, its mouth simply refusing to back down out of sheer pride: “Fine — there is no other spirit tiger in this world as remarkable as I, Old White. Consider yourself lucky.”

Feng Ya shook his head and walked ahead, having seen enough.

Jiangche, as always, jumped up onto Lang Jiuchuan’s shoulder, chattering on endlessly about the past. The two — and one tiger — did not use any techniques and simply walked from peak to peak with ease, as though treading level ground, until Lang Jiuchuan stopped.

“Xiaohui, you’re running so fast — be careful a wolf doesn’t snatch you away… who’s there!” A young man with golden-brown skin, dressed in rough short-cut clothes, instinctively stepped in front of the girl who had been walking ahead of him the moment he caught sight of Lang Jiuchuan and the others, gripping his woodcutting blade tightly with an expression of wariness.

But Lang Jiuchuan looked past him, toward the small girl standing behind him, and the two of them locked eyes.