Feng Chuyue straightened up and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt, wholly unself-conscious about her disheveled appearance. She gave Lin Xiao a soft bow of greeting: “Feng Chuyue pays her respects to the young master.”

When she was done, she looked at Qin Yao with an expectant expression, as though waiting for Qin Yao to introduce her.

Since her very first meeting with Feng Chuyue, Qin Yao had been through countless storms and surprises on her account and had long since built up thick defenses against her. It is safe to say that no matter what shocking thing Feng Chuyue did, Qin Yao would not be surprised.

Seeing her signal repeatedly, Qin Yao understood perfectly well what she was hoping for — but Qin Yao had an instinctive sense that Lin Xiao was not like Xia Di and his ilk. He would not only fail to welcome the other party’s deliberate attempt to ingratiate herself; he might very well develop a distaste for her. It was clearly a situation in which neither side would come out ahead, and Qin Yao had no reason to put herself in the middle.

So she kept her mouth firmly shut and pretended not to notice Feng Chuyue’s meaningful looks.

Lin Xiao, having seen Feng Chuyue emerge so ignominiously from under the offering table, had already vaguely guessed at her background. Thinking of how Qin Yao had disappeared without explanation tonight — surely related to this Miss Feng — he felt a quiet flash of distaste. He gave a coolly indifferent nod, then looked away from Feng Chuyue and did not look at her again.

Failing to extract any information about Lin Xiao from Qin Yao, Feng Chuyue was somewhat disappointed, though she took no particular offense at his tepid reception. She simply continued stealing discreet glances at him, and the more she looked — every detail of his clothing exquisitely expensive and refined, a magnificent unicorn jade pendant at his waist, clearly no ordinary article — the more she suspected Lin Xiao was no ordinary scion of a prominent family. Perhaps he was even a prince from the imperial palace!

How, though, had someone like him come to know A’Yao?

She looked at Qin Yao with a half-hidden sense of envy. Thinking back to the Xia gentleman she had encountered outside the Marquis of Jinghai’s gate, equally surrounded by attendants and exuding refinement — she could not help but look at Qin Yao with new eyes. She quietly resolved that in future, she must keep close to Qin Yao and, along the way, make the acquaintance of more of Chang’an’s noble personages.

Qin Yao had no time to fathom Feng Chuyue’s petty calculations. Her full attention went back to the battle in the hall. The Luo Cha was temporarily restrained by Yuan Jue and her master, but it showed no sign of diminished spiritual power; the icy chill in the hall had not lessened in the slightest, and when it lashed its coiled tail, it was still awe-inspiring in force.

Qin Yao was not at all surprised. The Luo Cha was, in any case, a general of the ghost realm — capable of commanding the submission of every evil ghost beneath the heavens. The depth of its spiritual power spoke for itself. To subdue it would take no ordinary formation or instrument, and no small measure of grueling battle.

She turned around and saw Feng Chuyue still shamelessly appraising Lin Xiao, paying no attention whatsoever to the increasingly intense battle in the hall. Qin Yao had no choice but to say to her coolly: “A’Yue, go back under the table as you were before. I’ll set a barrier for you out here. Stay hidden inside and don’t come out — otherwise the Luo Cha’s yin energy could harm you.”

Feng Chuyue turned to look at the enormous, ape-like creature in the hall. The color drained from her face in fright; she forgot all about Lin Xiao entirely and nodded without the slightest hesitation. “Alright, I’ll go back and hide. A’Yao, please put several extra layers on that barrier of yours.”

She turned and lifted her skirts and promptly crawled back under the table, pulling the tablecloth down behind her.

Lin Xiao: “…”

Qin Yao nodded, deeply impressed, and without delay went forward to set the barrier — the last thing they needed was the Luo Cha, if it went on a rampage through the hall, forcing them to split their attention to protect Feng Chuyue.

Restrained by the Boundless Mirror and the monks’ chanting, the Luo Cha grew increasingly frenzied and agitated. Its body was firmly pinned in place, unable to move, yet its pair of jade pupils kept sweeping wildly about the hall — until they landed on Qin Cheng, slumped against a pillar to one side, his face deathly pale. A flicker of pale light flashed in those jade pupils, and one toe of its right claw hooked ever so slightly, without drawing notice.

Qin Yao was at that moment occupied helping Lin Xiao drag the unconscious Chang Rong to a relatively safer position so she could use a technique to rouse him.

The Luo Cha’s means of bewitching the mind were beyond anything ordinary evil spirits could match. Except for those of exceptionally steadfast character, few could withstand it. And once a person fell under its enchantment, they would be utterly submerged in their illusion — overcome with sorrow, or blazing with fury — completely unable to break free. Over time, this invariably damaged the internal organs, so Chang Rong had to be pulled out of the dream as quickly as possible.

Chang Rong was dragged to the side near one of the hall pillars and made comfortable. Just as Qin Yao and Lin Xiao straightened up, something struck them as wrong. They looked up simultaneously — and saw the pillar where Qin Cheng had been bound was now empty.

Both of them froze. They spun their heads toward the hall — and found Qin Cheng, by some unknown means, already gliding like a wraith toward the absorbed and unsuspecting Qing Xuzi, poised to strike from behind.

Qin Yao’s heart lurched in terror. She cried out: “Master, watch out—!”

Lin Xiao’s face went cold. He immediately hurled the sword in his hand with full force — the Chixiao Sword rang out and cut through the air with an irresistible momentum, poised to skewer Qin Cheng clean through. But Qin Cheng suddenly surged up from behind Qing Xuzi, roared, and flung himself toward the Luo Cha at the center of the hall: “I’ll take you down with me!” Dodging in that way, the Chixiao Sword grazed past him and buried itself in the pillar behind him, vibrating and ringing with a long, resonant hum.

Qin Cheng was naturally gifted, and on top of that had trained since childhood and fought in countless campaigns; his inner cultivation was unfathomably deep. The Luo Cha was caught completely off guard — and was tackled squarely. Qin Cheng seemed to be pouring every last shred of his hatred into the Luo Cha. Without a weapon in hand, he clamped his teeth down on the Luo Cha’s massive claw, tearing and ripping until he had bitten clear through it, a thick, dark-green fluid seeping from the corner of his mouth.

The Luo Cha had never imagined that Qin Cheng would resist its enchantment and turn on it instead of attacking Qing Xuzi. It froze for a moment, then the searing pain in its claw drove it to wild fury. With a shriek, it raised its other claw and brought it crashing down on Qin Cheng’s back, pulverizing his internal organs, then flung him savagely away.

Qin Cheng flew through the air like a snapped kite and crashed down in a distant corner of the hall.

Qin Yao’s heart leaped; she rushed over to look. She found Qin Cheng’s complexion a dark and murky gray, blood frothing from the corners of his mouth, his pupils dilated. His lamp was guttering out.

As though sensing Qin Yao’s gaze, Qin Cheng shifted his eyes with difficulty and said with labored breath: “Ha… Miss Qu—”

Qin Yao, seeing he seemed to have something to say, was still on guard against him — but seeing that he no longer had the capacity to harm anyone, she hesitated a moment, then crouched down and said evenly: “Is there something you want to say?”

Qin Cheng stared up at the darkness of the hall ceiling, as though making a great effort to see through it to somewhere far away. After a silence, he said hoarsely: “In the terms of your Daoist tradition — a man like me, who has slaughtered the innocent, is there no longer any chance of re-entering the Six Cycles of Reincarnation?”

His voice was like a cracked erhu, torn and ragged and harsh, bearing no trace of the low, clear timbre from before.

Qin Yao heard these words. Though she had a profound loathing for what this man had done, she could not, in the end, suppress a thread of compassion — and found she could not decisively say the word “no.”

Qin Cheng did not wait for her answer. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile as faint as a wisp of smoke. Just then, Lin Xiao walked over to Qin Yao’s side and crouched down to examine his condition. Qin Cheng seemed startled. With great effort he adjusted his focus, looking at the pair of splendid young people before him, and nodded faintly: “The two of you suit one another. When Rui Zhu and I were wed, I was about the same age as you are now.”

Both Qin Yao and Lin Xiao were taken aback at once. They saw in his eyes a thick and unmistakable envy, and for a moment, could not say what they felt.

Qin Cheng moved his eyes away, back toward the ceiling, and said in a distant, quiet voice: “Rui Zhu and I grew up together, from childhood. On our wedding day, I looked at Rui Zhu sitting in the bridal chamber and thought there could not be anyone more content in all the world than I. But who could have known — the two of us had so little time together—”

Qin Yao saw his breath growing weaker and weaker, and abruptly recalled an earlier question. She said hastily in a low voice: “Did you have another accomplice? Who was it?”

Qin Cheng seemed not to hear her. After a pause, he sighed: “Now I only regret that I was used by the Luo Cha into slaughtering innocents — not only did I fail to summon Rui Zhu back, but I’ve earned a descent into hell upon my death. Most likely, I will never have another chance to enter the Six Cycles of Reincarnation, to go and search for Rui Zhu…”

Before he could finish, the froth of blood at the corner of his mouth suddenly transformed into a dense, dark flood; his remaining words were swallowed entirely by his throat.

He stared sightlessly up at the ceiling. The light in his eyes dimmed, gradually, and went out.

Qin Yao knew he was about to breathe his last. In ordinary circumstances, she would have chanted a passage of the Rebirth Incantation for the deceased. But for someone as deeply steeped in sin as Qin Cheng, even if she were willing, it would be nothing but a futile gesture.

Qin Cheng seemed to find the weight too great to bear; his eyelids slowly fell. And suddenly — as though he had glimpsed something of extreme joy — his eyes snapped wide open for a brief moment, and even his face, deathly pale as paper, seemed to brighten along with it.

But the brightness lasted only a little while before it was like a candle flame snuffed out, plunging everything into permanent darkness. His long-unfocused pupils fixed themselves in their sockets and were still.

Qin Yao stared at Qin Cheng’s remains for a long time, her heart in a tangle of complicated emotions. Until the very end, this man had not expressed a word of remorse for the women who had died wrongfully; all his thoughts were consumed by his inability to reunite with his late wife. The coldness and selfishness of his character were plain — he had never been a good man. In the end, to have come to such an ending truly could not be called unjust.

And yet she did not know why she still felt a congestion of stale air lodged in her chest, lodged in her throat, deeply unsettling.

Lin Xiao, seeing Qin Yao’s expression was poor, assumed she was simply still young and unused to such sights. He quickly took her by the hand to pull her up, about to speak.

At that moment, the Luo Cha suddenly let out a piercing, bone-scraping shriek, and the entire temple hall shook with it.

Lin Xiao and Qin Yao both spun around — the Luo Cha could no longer withstand the combined assault of Qing Xuzi and the others. It was burning from within, its chest in searing agony, and after only a brief moment, with a tearing sound, a wound over an arm’s length split open across its chest and abdomen.

It screamed again and again; its yin energy surged explosively, and it wrenched itself free from the Boundless Mirror’s restraint, lurching forward several inches against the force. Qin Yao’s heart clenched. She looked across the hall and saw one of Yuan Jue’s disciples appearing to have reached the limit of his power — his body swaying, on the verge of collapse.

A’Han saw this and ran to stand behind the monk, pressing his palm to the monk’s back to channel internal energy to him.

Qing Xuzi snapped his eyes open and shouted at Qin Yao: “A’Yao! The Luo Cha has been torn open — release the Soul-Devouring Bell and burn its spirit now!”

Qin Yao called out in acknowledgment and channeled her internal energy to release the three fire dragons. Though her power had not fully recovered, she had rested for a good while — the dragons were considerably more brilliant than before, their movements vigorous and forceful as they swiftly coiled toward the Luo Cha.

The three dragons circled the Luo Cha once, then one by one plunged into the wound across its chest and abdomen.

The Luo Cha released a world-rending shriek that made the mountain temple feel as though it would cave inward. The ground heaved violently beneath everyone’s feet; cracks were already beginning to split the earth.

But everyone was giving their all against the Luo Cha and could not afford to spare any further attention — they could only hope desperately to subdue it before it struck back.

Though the Soul-Devouring Bell burned within it, the Luo Cha’s terrible, drawn-out howl continued unbroken — immensely penetrating, reverberating in wave after wave, carrying far out of the hall and across every hilltop surrounding Chang’an.

If it were allowed to howl like this unchecked, it would summon another hundred ghosts to walk the night. Those inside began to grow anxious, wanting to cut off the Luo Cha’s summoning call, yet not having a shred of spiritual power left to spare — they had no choice but to grit their teeth and hold on, pressing to subdue it as quickly as possible.

Then came a wet, puncturing sound — as though something had pierced through flesh. The Luo Cha’s high, strident cries cut off abruptly.

Everyone looked up, startled — and found that Lin Xiao, at some unknown moment, had circled around to the Luo Cha’s back. He had driven the Chixiao Sword clean through the Luo Cha’s entire body.

Apparently worried the Luo Cha was not finished off, he coldly rotated the blade with full force, reducing everything inside the Luo Cha to shreds.

The Luo Cha stared down in disbelief at the glinting silver sword tip protruding from its own abdomen. It stood rigid for a moment, then collapsed to the ground with a thunderous crash. The pale light in its jade pupils flickered faintly, and went dark.

The three fire dragons, seeming to sense this, appeared to take on renewed vigor. They spiraled around the Luo Cha in coiling loops — like predators closing in on prey — and in the blink of an eye, incinerated it entirely, leaving not even a fragment of bone.

Qing Xuzi and Yuan Jue, both advanced in years, had been pushed to the very edge of exhaustion by the battle. They each let out a long breath and sank limply to the ground, collapsing into unconsciousness.

Qin Yao saw this and, despite her own bone-deep fatigue, rushed to go to her master’s side. But she had only taken two steps when her vision went black, and she crumpled to the ground.

She had been pushing herself through sheer willpower for a long while. Now, with the Luo Cha finally destroyed, she let go all at once — and could hold on no longer.

In a daze, she felt someone lift her steadily and securely into their arms. Her consciousness was blurring, but some instinct told her this person’s chest was steady and trustworthy, and she let herself lean her head against him, surrendering to the tide of drowsiness that surged over her.

Only — this person’s movements were gentle, but it seemed there was something tucked in his chest. As he moved, that something kept pressing against her cheek, and she could not stop herself from frowning again and again.

In her half-conscious haze, she wondered vaguely: who is this person? How strange — why would anyone keep a hairpin tucked into their chest? I must ask them about it properly once I wake up.