When Lang Jiuchuan returned to her meditation room, she paused at the sight of a human-shaped lump curled up in her bed.

The lump shifted. It quietly pulled the blanket back a little to peek out, and found itself staring wide-eyed at Lang Jiuchuan.

Thump.

Jian Lan recognized her and threw back the covers, jumping down: “Young Miss, you’re back.”

“What are you doing in my bed?”

Jian Lan lowered her voice: “This servant came to check on you and found you gone. Afraid someone would notice and it would cause trouble, I thought I’d better… You don’t know — something serious has happened over in the Quiet Meditation Courtyard.”

“Oh?”

“It hasn’t spread yet, but someone from the Pei family’s old matriarch sent word to Madam — it seems Miss Qisi has gone missing, and they’re searching for her. She apparently slipped away without a single attendant.” Jian Lan said in a hushed, mysterious tone.

“She’s dead.”

“Oh.” Jian Lan shrieked: “What?!”

Lang Jiuchuan clamped a hand over her mouth, looked at the terrified eyes staring back at her and the unspoken question — it wasn’t you, was it — and gave a slight smile: “Don’t worry. I didn’t do it.”

Oh thank goodness.

Jian Lan relaxed and pulled down her hand, her voice so small it could barely be heard, trembling as she asked: “Really dead?”

Lang Jiuchuan nodded. She thought for a moment, then asked for the birth dates and hours of Jian Lan, Daman, and Xiaoman, and her brow furrowed briefly before she said: “Keep the talisman I gave you close to your body at all times, and don’t go wandering outside. I’ll draw a few more talismans later — give one to Daman and Xiaoman to keep, and distribute the rest.”

Jian Lan’s heart stirred: “Distribute them — does that mean to Madam’s side as well?”

“Qisi died in a strange and unusual way. It may not be an ordinary murder — it may be the work of an evil spirit. Given that, do you understand?” Lang Jiuchuan said. “With her dead, these next two days are unlikely to be peaceful around this meditation courtyard. So keep our people from wandering about — especially since we had a small dispute with Qisi, and that was in plain sight of others.”

The dispute over the meditation courtyard had been witnessed, and Qisi’s standing was no small matter — she was a close relation of the Imperial Noble Consort in the palace. Even if Zhongyong Marquis’s household was not true imperial kin, they had ties by marriage, and her status was more troublesome than Qi Xinyu’s had been.

And Marquis Kaiping’s household was currently at a low ebb, short on talent and sitting in a weak position. Going head to head with Zhongyong Marquis’s household would be disadvantageous — after all, they had an Imperial Noble Consort as a powerful patron. And what did the Lang Family have?

That imperial decree granting their noble title was still sitting in some pitiable queue, waiting to be processed.

Heaven forbid the title ended up lost over this — that would make the second branch the greatest sinner in the entire Lang Family, a thorn in everyone’s flesh.

What a mess.

Lang Jiuchuan rubbed her temple.

“This servant will make arrangements. Miss, would you like to get a little more sleep? This servant will brew you some longan tea — drink some, sleep a while longer. No matter who comes, this servant will say we were together all night.” Jian Lan could see that Lang Jiuchuan’s color was not good and felt a pang of concern, quickly setting aside all thoughts of whether Qisi was alive or dead.

Lang Jiuchuan nodded. It wasn’t that she wanted more sleep — she wanted to enter the small nine-tiered pagoda and try out its soul-nourishing effects.

While Jian Lan went to brew the tea, Lang Jiuchuan produced her cinnabar and yellow paper, summoned her talisman brush, dissolved the cinnabar into liquid, and began drawing talismans.

But as she lifted the brush, the inheritance Master Luole had forced into her mind surfaced — and within it was a protective talisman, a fusion of Buddhist and Daoist intent, its power to protect the body and suppress malevolence far greater than her own.

Yet she had never studied Buddhist meditation. She could not grasp the Buddhist intent.

Had the Master placed too much faith in her?

Lang Jiuchuan recalled how he had dismissed the long story of his past with a breezy refusal to tell it, and she could not help but softly close her eyes. In the end, she did not trouble herself trying to replicate that talisman. Without having comprehended the Buddhist intent, even if she drew the inscriptions identically, they would only be patterns — not living spirit.

She was not in a hurry.

Lang Jiuchuan steadied her mind and returned to her own methods, letting the brush move in one unbroken flow.

When Jian Lan came in carrying the tea, she saw Lang Jiuchuan drawing talismans and did not dare disturb her, waiting quietly to one side.

Lang Jiuchuan drew several talismans in succession, her face snow-white by the end. She gathered them all into Jian Lan’s hands: “Distribute these at first light. And give one to that old Pei matriarch and Lady Pei the Third — they gave me gifts when we were introduced. A return gift is only proper.”

Cui Shi had brought her around to meet people, and those two had given her gifts at their introduction. A reciprocal gesture was appropriate.

Jian Lan took them and agreed.

Once she had gone, Lang Jiuchuan felt no sleepiness, so she sat in the adjacent servants’ quarters, took out the stack of talismans, and began folding them one by one into triangles in the way Lang Jiuchuan had taught her.

Lang Jiuchuan, for her part, summoned the small nine-tiered pagoda.

Jiangche let out a startled cry and circled it eagerly: “The pagoda is still nine tiers — but why has it shrunk? And this color…”

The pagoda was still nine tiers, but its color was a deep, burnished black shot through with a low, profound purple. Under the warm orange lamplight, it looked utterly mysterious and exquisitely rare.

The reforged Diamond Pagoda had completely transformed into the nine-tiered Coercion Pagoda Lang Jiuchuan had envisioned. It still carried the righteous power of thunder and lightning, and Lang Jiuchuan had also inscribed a Dao pattern capable of vanquishing evil spirits — effectively three distinct functions in one.

But Lang Jiuchuan felt it was far more than that, for Master Luole’s sarira had been refined together with the power of thunder and lightning directly into the pagoda.

In other words — this pagoda now contained Master Luole’s sarira, making it akin to the wooden fish’s spiritual consciousness.

Jiangche listened to Lang Jiuchuan’s explanation and was thoroughly astounded: “The Master is worthy of being called a master — to have seen so far into the workings of fate, and to have waited until today.”

Lang Jiuchuan agreed wholeheartedly, gently touching the small nine-tiered pagoda: “The workings of fate can be perceived, but the price to be paid is not something ordinary people could bear. I wonder what prompted the Master to peer into such a fate-altering secret.”

The wooden fish remained completely still, as though it had not understood this probing remark.

Lang Jiuchuan pursed her lips, said nothing further, and sat cross-legged on the bed, cradling the small nine-tiered pagoda in both hands. With a thought, she recited a silent incantation, and her nascent spirit and Jiangche entered the pagoda together.

The malevolent energy inside the pagoda had been entirely purged. Gone was any trace of yin darkness; instead, spiritual energy permeated every corner. The Dao inscriptions carved into the pagoda’s walls emanated a faint golden light, and individual Dao symbols drifted through the air like living spirits, soothing the weary and fragile soul.

Jiangche rolled around inside it with a blissful sigh: this was what a true spirit pagoda should feel like.

Lang Jiuchuan meditated carefully, and her delight deepened. She now understood the use of Master Luole’s sarira refined into the pagoda — it was the accumulated merit of his many years of cultivation, transformed into the Buddhist and Daoist wisdom he had attained. Here, while nourishing her soul, she could also study the Buddhist-Daoist methods he had realized.

It was as though he were teaching the Dao in person before her — though how much she absorbed would depend entirely on her own aptitude. The master could only open the door; the cultivation was hers to do.

Lang Jiuchuan knelt once more, her forehead pressed to the ground in the posture of a disciple receiving boundless and selfless teaching.

The wooden fish’s spiritual consciousness watched silently, not saying a word, wondering what this young woman would grow into. Please do not let the Master’s life’s devotion go to waste — after all, this was a wait purchased with an entire great cycle of reincarnation.

Lang Jiuchuan rose, and with another shift of thought, changed the incantation. The talismanic symbols inside the pagoda instantly transformed — becoming the stern, fierce, and domineering intent of coercive power. The formidable pressure condensed into golden light and surged outward.

Both the wooden fish and Jiangche let out simultaneous yelps: “We’re spirits too! Could you at least warn us before you hit your own allies?!”

Lang Jiuchuan felt the pressure and let her eyes curve into a smile.

What an absolute treasure we’ve found!