There were few ghosts who could hold out against Lang Jiuchuan’s threat. In any case, the only outcome left to them if they remained in the world of the living was the dissolution of their souls — and if she caught them, they would likely dissolve in an even worse fashion. Since Qi Xinyu was already nearly dead, the vengeance could be considered settled. Let them depart and be done with it.

The little fierce spirit was somewhat reluctant at first, but upon hearing Lang Jiuchuan say that in her current state there was no possibility of her betrothal going forward — her beauty ruined, the engagement annulled, plummeting from the heights to the dust — that kind of slow, agonizing suffering would be absolutely worse than death. Especially for someone like Qi Xinyu.

The little fierce spirit thought it over and gave it up. But before departing, she asked Lang Jiuchuan: “If it were you — killed by someone in cruelty and agony — what would you do?”

Lang Jiuchuan tilted her chin slightly, the corner of her mouth hooking into a smile: “Naturally — fight to the last and never rest until it was settled.”

Forgive and let go with a smile? That was nothing but wishful thinking.

“Then why did you advise us to…”

“You are you, and I am I. I am someone unafraid of having my soul shattered and unmindful of reincarnation — a madwoman. Are you the same?” Lang Jiuchuan cut her off and said: “Besides — have you not already taken your revenge? Or else — whose doing was it that Qi Xinyu cannot survive this time?”

Had they not been working their mischief from within, how would the wound on Qi Xinyu’s forehead have deteriorated as it did? And how would that Yin malevolence have seeped through the wound and spread, pouring into her lungs and viscera?

The little fierce spirit looked at that smile at the corner of her mouth and felt her hair stand on end. She dared not say another word, and obediently followed the underworld runners into the road of reincarnation.

But still — she should offer some thanks. This person, though she held a double standard, was at least not like those so-called righteous practitioners, who cared nothing for right or wrong, only for slaying the demonic and the spectral in the name of defending what they called moral purity.

They were no match for even this supposedly frail woman’s clear-sightedness — no wonder their abilities fell short as well.

Lang Jiuchuan received a faint, meager wisp of virtue from good deeds. She was rather surprised — they did not begrudge her for meddling, after all.

“Hilarious — that Daoist with the surname Cheng truly believes his Five Thunders Talisman wiped out all those vengeful ghosts, and he is so pleased with himself about it. If he ever learned the truth, the anger alone would probably scatter his accumulated virtue.” Jiangche observed Lang Jiuchuan’s expressionless face and said: “But you shouldn’t be too complacent either. The senior members dispatched by the Xuan Clan all have their own rankings and levels. A Cheng old Daoist of this sort is not particularly formidable.”

Lang Jiuchuan walked out of the study toward the storeroom and said: “The enemy is as yet unknown, while I have already been exposed — which is equivalent to the enemy lurking in shadow while I stand in the open. If I were still to be arrogant and self-satisfied, I would be walking to my own death. I am not that foolish. On the contrary — I should be all the more vigilant, stock more protective items, and most importantly, make myself stronger.”

Jiangche, seeing her ability to keep her composure, felt a twinge of self-reproach. He had still underestimated her.

“What next?”

“First, purge the Seven-Star Diamond Pagoda of its impurities and re-temper and consecrate it.” Lang Jiuchuan said: “I consulted the almanac — the first day of the new year will be the most suitable time. We will seize that new beginning. At that time — we will go to Huguo Temple.”

“Huguo Temple? Why not Ci’en Temple?”

Lang Jiuchuan said: “Huguo Temple draws more incense and devotion than Ci’en Temple. For consecration, of course one must find a good place — only then does it do justice to this Seven-Star Diamond Pagoda.”

She stroked the top of the pagoda and said: “Since it is mine, naturally it deserves only the best.”

The Diamond Pagoda gave a faint tremor.

Moved, indeed.

Jiangche, watching the meaningful curve at the corner of her mouth, felt something he could not quite name — sensing that she had a stomach full of scheming. Could she be planning to take advantage of Huguo Temple?

Lang Jiuchuan set the Diamond Pagoda aside and said: “Before that, I will finish making the soul incense first, then roll some medicinal pills to swallow like candies. A little later, accompany me somewhere — and then go back to gathering intelligence on the Xuan Clan. Oh yes — start with the Rong Family first. Because of Qi Xinyu, they have likely added me to their black order for elimination.”

One could not simply wait for people to come knocking at the door.

Jiangche deflated. Had he known how things would turn out, would a majestic White Tiger King have been reduced to the role of errand runner? Should he have cultivated a few more years to temper his nature — and not been in such a rush to cross that heavenly tribulation?

Carrying that vexation, Jiangche came to the old ginkgo tree where he had once taken shelter. While drawing in the incense energy drifting over from the Chenghuang temple, he vented his grievances to his old companion.

The old ginkgo tree said: “So it is said — every cause must bear its fruit. Your retribution is her… No, wait, in your previous life you must have owed her a debt… Actually, no, it is simply — fate!”

Jiangche gave a derisive snort: “Don’t think I can’t hear the gloating in your voice. I’ve been with her long enough — I’ve developed an ear for these things.”

He was no longer that foolish cat of before.

The old ginkgo shook its trunk and said: “Well, now you know. You and her — your fate is bound by cause and consequence. Otherwise, why would you have come all this great distance to Wu Jing, received the old monk’s guidance, waited here for over a year, and only then gone to her? This is called — what is destined in the unseen!”

Jiangche fell silent, clutching his not-yet-corporeal tiger whiskers, wondering — could this truly be my retribution?

Was there truly some connection between them?

Surely not — he had cultivated for many years and had never encountered such a vicious, eight-hundred-tricks-in-her-belly madwoman.

Lost in thought, someone walked to the base of the old ginkgo tree — a young man of about twenty, with a beard, his expression tinged with anxiety and gloom.

Not long after, the sound of coughing came from beyond the neighboring wall. The man immediately returned a cough.

He looked around, pressed himself against the wall, and said: “What do I do — my father-in-law is already growing suspicious of me. He insists on paying a visit, and I can barely keep the secret much longer.”

Jiangche and the old ginkgo both ceased their conversation and listened quietly to the gossip.

Speaking through a wall in hushed tones — clearly some scheme was afoot.

Both tree and tiger spirit pricked their ears with great enthusiasm. This was a rapport they had developed over more than a year of being together.

Jiangche even drifted over to the top of the wall and peered down. On the other side of the wall was a man in dark robes, his head lowered, saying: “What is there to panic about? You are already a man who wears the official’s cap. You cannot even deal with a mere merchant? If you are this useless, how can my master have confidence in you — how dare to use you?”

The man seemed somewhat afraid. Even though the other could not see him, he still slightly bowed and said with great deference: “Please give your instructions.”

The man on the other side of the wall tossed over a plain-colored money pouch and said coldly: “Handle it cleanly. My master does not wish to hear any unpleasant news.”

The man looked at the money pouch that had landed at his feet and hurriedly picked it up: “Please rest assured.”

From the other side came silence. He waited a moment, then opened the pouch, pulled out a slip of paper, scanned it quickly, and left in haste.

Jiangche clicked his tongue and said: “Who knows which poor household is about to meet misfortune. Could this be another fickle-hearted scoundrel in the mold of Chen Shimei?”

The old ginkgo said: “Well — this Wu Jing, for all its splendor and prosperity, conceals filth and corruption beneath. But then, this is no concern of yours or mine. What you should do is find a physical body soon, as Lang Jiu has said, and continue your cultivation. I have a strong feeling — the sky is going to change before long.”

Once the sky changed, a spirit consciousness like its own, without a place to take shelter, would simply dissipate.

Jiangche lifted his head and gazed at the sky, his tiger eyes glimmering with a bright and keen light. If the sky changed — what would that woman do?

Fight against heaven? Fight against men? Or — fight against fate itself?