Coming out of Zhuang Quanhai’s meditation chamber, Lang Jiuchuan instructed the servant woman: “Have the guards from the estate escort them back to the city.”

The servant woman bowed and acknowledged.

Jian Lan accompanied her back to the meditation courtyard and said, “Young miss, was it too presumptuous of me just now to ask for the divination fee?”

“Not at all — you did very well. But how did you come to know about the five afflictions and three deficiencies? Were you secretly reading Daoist scriptures?”

Jian Lan reddened. “Not entirely. I have met diviners and geomancers outside the estate gates before, and they all charge a fee. In my idle time, I also flipped through some Daoist texts, and there truly is such a teaching about the five afflictions and three deficiencies. You divined for them — that means you peered into the workings of Heaven. Taking a small divination fee in return is only right and proper.”

“Then why did you only take so little?”

Jian Lan said, “I saw that the old woman’s family is now ruined and destitute, and there must be many places where silver is needed for various dealings, so I… was it not enough?”

“It does not matter — even a single copper coin is sufficient.” Lang Jiuchuan looked at the divination fee she clutched in her hand and tested her further, asking, “When a divination fee is earned through peering into the workings of Heaven, what should be done with it to mitigate some of the cause and consequence I have taken on?”

Jian Lan paused. She heard a monk somewhere striking a wooden fish block and chanting sutras. Tentatively, she offered, “Should your servant donate a portion as incense oil money?”

A smile appeared in Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes, and she nodded. “You are very good. You will receive blessings for it in the future.”

Jian Lan felt bashful at these words, her heart quietly pleased. “After seeing you back to the meditation chamber, your servant will donate it in your name.”

Although the divination fee from this time was not much, even a single copper coin could buy a plain bun. Donating it still counted as an act of merit.

Lang Jiuchuan made her way through the temple, her fingers rubbing the Dizhong at her waist, turning over the hexagram from earlier in her mind. The connection between Ding Suqiu and demonic evil — could it not be precisely because of her pure-yin birth chart?

If even the soul was gone, then she had been lost in both body and spirit. What kind of demonic evil would want a woman of pure-yin birth chart? If it was about to emerge, could that not mean she was not the only one?

This was bad. If that was the case, there were likely other women who would die because of this — especially those with pure-yin birth charts across all eight characters.

Something flashed through Lang Jiuchuan’s mind. She had clearly read about a demonic evil like this somewhere, yet she could not grasp hold of even a thread of it. Most vexing.

“Stop hammering that head of yours — you are already short one soul and two spirit-forms. If you keep hammering yourself any stupider, you will recall even less.” Jiangche had appeared at some point and was perched on her shoulder. “I have been in deep mountain cultivation my whole life. What would I know about such things?”

Lang Jiuchuan shared what she had deduced with it and asked, “What demonic evil have you ever encountered that operates this way?”

Jiangche said, “I have been in deep mountain cultivation my whole life. What would I know about such things?”

Lang Jiuchuan seethed. “Then what use are you!”

Jiangche felt its confidence deflate slightly. Straining to salvage its dignity, it said, “Could it be those heretical fiends and evil sects? Women are inherently yin in nature — those types specifically seek out pure-yin women to serve as cauldron vessels for their cultivation, or to refine the most yin-corrupted and malevolent weapons.”

Lang Jiuchuan nodded. “That is also a possibility.”

“Who are you going to ask to look after Ding Mangu?”

Lang Jiuchuan said, “Ding Suqiu’s death has a causal connection to this demonic evil. Gong Qi and his fellow disciples are already investigating the matter. As the saying goes — let the capable take the role. I will pass this information to them and let the Xuan clan fight the monsters. In exchange, they help manage Ding Mangu’s situation in the prison — that is not unreasonable, is it? A small matter like that, given their standing and status, would not even require opening their mouths before Ding Mangu walks free. Not to mention — since Ding Mangu’s daughter is herself connected to the demonic evil, their investigation will inevitably turn up something.”

Jiangche snorted inwardly: I see you really have no trouble putting people to work.

“A handkerchief is an important personal possession of a young woman — how can one simply say to discard it? Baisong, please send the handkerchief over.” A warm and gentle voice sounded from the terrace below.

“Then we shall trouble Lord Zhuo.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s footsteps slowed slightly. That was the voice of the fourth young miss of the Qi family.

She walked to the railing of the terrace and looked down. In the courtyard below, Qi Minjun stood with her attendants sheltering from the snow under the eaves. In the center of the courtyard, a man stood holding an oiled-paper umbrella.

“This man’s voice — I feel I have heard it somewhere.” Jiangche rubbed at its ear. Where had it heard it before?

“The snow is falling heavier. This umbrella is humble, but if the young miss does not mind, please take it to fend off some of the wind and snow.” The man folded the umbrella closed and passed it to the manservant at his side, telling him to bring it over.

Jiangche made a sound of curiosity, drifted down and circled the man once, then returned to Lang Jiuchuan’s shoulder. “I have seen him before.”

“You have seen Zhuo Yu? Where?” Lang Jiuchuan fixed her gaze on the man below, a cold glint flashing through her eyes.

“What — that is Zhuo Yu? You know him?”

Lang Jiuchuan was truly on the verge of weeping from exasperation. “Did you not hear Fourth Miss Qi address him as Lord Zhuo? Madam Ding also said he would come today to light the lamp. I observed his parents’ palace areas — the sun and moon corners, that is the left side of his forehead — bearing a low-set scar, sunken and dim without luster: the sign of one who lost a parent in early childhood. His right forehead is sharp-cut and hollowed; the law lines bear a fractured appearance; the corners of his mouth droop, and his lip color is a pallid white — indicating his mother at the time was frail and ailing, her health poor. As for the spousal palace — a dark reddish-black color with an inauspicious mole, indicating a wife who died a violent death. Combined with what Madam Ding and the others told us — if that is not Zhuo Yu, then who is it?”

Jiangche thought to itself: No wonder you intend to set up shop as a geomancer-diviner. One encounter, and you have read this man’s face clear to the bone.

Though admittedly, it was possible she had heard the account first and was now cross-referencing — giving a slight advantage of preconception. Still, the analysis left one instinctively impressed.

“Where did you see him before?” That Zhuo Yu — he did not personally carry the blood of murder on his hands. Ding Suqiu had not died at his hands. Yet on his body, a layer of death-qi was churning and taking shape with alarming speed. That death-qi also carried the force of karmic debt — evidence that there was a burden of sin upon him.

His wife had not died by his hand, yet it could not be separated from him entirely. After all, she had shared his bed.

Jiangche said, “Over by the City God Temple — before, when I went to catch up with old Silverwood, I happened to see him. He was whispering in secret with someone, and just from the sound of it, nothing good was being discussed. Could it have been a conspiracy about how to kill his wife?”

It relayed to Lang Jiuchuan what it had overheard at the time.

Lang Jiuchuan tapped the Dizhong lightly. “The person he was meeting with — did you see them?”

“Well — the other party wore a bamboo hat, pulled very low. And besides, old Silverwood and I had been listening to that kind of gossip for so long — who pays attention to the details of what it was about? So…” Before Lang Jiuchuan could scold it, Jiangche quickly added another line: “But I did see the person’s wrist when they tossed something over. The wrist had a burn scar, the kind left by fire.”

Lang Jiuchuan: “Investigating cases is someone else’s business. That is not our concern.”

Jiangche: “……”

Then why did you ask in such detail just now?

“This man is a hypocrite, well-practiced in wearing masks. Disgusting.” Lang Jiuchuan turned her gaze away from Zhuo Yu with distaste. She could even smell something foul emanating from him, all the way from this distance.

She then glanced over at Fourth Miss Qi, who had accepted the umbrella and handkerchief, and her eyes darkened. “The death-qi on her — it grows heavier and heavier.”

Her gaze traveled back and forth between the two figures, and her thoughts deepened. Could the fourth young miss’s death have something to do with this Zhuo Yu as well?

“Come — let us go see whether Gong Qi has returned.”

This matter could not be allowed to drag on any further.