Rather than watching the refined evil creature take shape, why not become that creature oneself — never dying, beyond the cycle of reincarnation? Would that not be far superior to spending years siphoning the life force of others just to stave off death?
Upon hearing Lang Jiuchuan’s conjecture, everyone felt their hands and feet go cold, their spines run with ice. Was it possible? Well — was it impossible?
Consider it from within the situation: you have laid plans for a hundred years. Would you truly be content to simply watch the demonic creature you cultivated come to life, and then peacefully close your eyes and depart? That is absurd. You have gone to the trouble of forcibly seizing other people’s life force to extend your own years — and all of that was solely for this?
But what if you became the demonic creature?
If all went according to plan — that would be worthy of the hundred years of scheming and concealment. That would be a life not lived in vain.
“No matter how old the old ancestor of the Cong Family is, he is still a living person.” The more Lang Jiuchuan traced the thread, the more convinced she became that the old ancestor, Cong, was the true mantis lurking behind the cicada.
Gong Qi said: “But folk histories say that the corpse fiend sheds its yin essence soul, drops it into a womb, and is born again. If it is the old ancestor — what is the method? He is still a living person.”
Lang Jiuchuan smiled: “It is not easy to stay alive — but is it so difficult to die?”
Everyone looked at her at once. There was something about those words — as though they touched on something personal, carrying a faint, wistful shadow.
“I still don’t understand — if the plan relies on the corpse fiend’s yin essence soul dropping into a womb, then even if the old ancestor dies, how does he use this to successfully be reborn…”
“Soul seizing and soul merging.” A’Piao spoke.
Both Lang Jiuchuan and Gong Qi looked at him.
“Soul seizing should not be unfamiliar to you — forcing one’s way in and taking over the other’s place. Soul merging is the east wind overwhelming the west wind — consuming the soul and absorbing it into oneself.” A’Piao said: “This is also the most common method used by malevolent ghosts to strengthen themselves — nothing more than the law of the jungle. If the situation truly is as Ninth Miss has reasoned, and the old ancestor of the Cong Family was pursuing this for his own purposes from start to finish, then he must have long since prepared to seize and merge souls. The two are father and son — two souls merging into one is far more compatible. Add to that the fact that the old ancestor himself refined this corpse fiend, which means he understands its weaknesses better than anyone and knows precisely how to tame and control a corpse fiend. When the right moment arrives, he will be even more confident in his ability to carry out the soul seizing and soul merging — to be born through Princess Zhao’an’s body of pure yin, and thus achieve the great plan of eternal life and freedom from death.”
Shen Qinghe stood there blankly, watching them. He felt nothing but cold dread — as though his entire body had been placed in an ice cellar.
First there had been the matter of people offering worship to the Red Lotus Evil God, which had already upended everything he understood. And now he was hearing that a person had done all of this for the sake of living forever — deeds so monstrous and shocking, spanning the breadth of a full hundred years.
“Can people really be willing to wait so long for something they have set their heart on?” His expression was lost.
Lang Jiuchuan and A’Piao exchanged a glance: “An ordinary person rises with the sun and rests when it sets, and yet feels that the days drag endlessly. But honestly speaking — time passes in the blink of an eye, slipping away unnoticed before you realize it is gone. For those who walk the path of cultivation, this is even more true. A cultivator who enters closed meditation to seek understanding may not emerge for several years. So a hundred years — call it long, but it is not so long.”
That was, of course, because this was the mortal world, without the true flow of spiritual energy. In a world filled with abundant spiritual energy, those who practiced the mystical arts would only lament that there were not enough hours in the day.
Shen Qinghe exhaled: “I dare not even imagine it.”
Gong Qi turned to Lang Jiuchuan: “Setting aside whether your conjecture is correct — what is our next step? We came at an unfortunate time. They had already fled, and were remarkably alert.”
“That is partly my fault as well. I sent people to investigate at the Princess’s manor, and when I saw that Princess Zhao’an appeared unharmed I did not think much of it. I did not realize they had prepared in advance and that what we saw was an imposter wearing a human-skin mask.” Shen Qinghe was somewhat self-reproachful: “And I fear our action alerted them, which is what caused them to run.”
Lang Jiuchuan shook her head: “That is not your fault. The day when the demonic creature is to be born is not far off. Even without us, they would have made their move to prepare.”
Shen Qinghe thought of something and frowned: “By your reasoning though — they were so careful about everything. Why did they still go to Huguo Temple, and even kill that young lady from the Zhongyong Marquis household? If they had not gone, they would never have drawn your attention.”
Gong Qi also nodded in agreement: “That’s right. The closer you are to the critical moment, the more you should keep a low profile. Why would they make a move at Huguo Temple at such a sensitive time? If they had not gone, Qisi would not have died, and you would not have noticed anything was amiss.”
“There must be something at Huguo Temple they absolutely had to obtain.” Lang Jiuchuan’s fingertip lightly tapped against the Dizhong bell. She pressed her lips together and said: “The Xuan Clan people are now searching for the corpse fiend’s hiding place. I will first try to find the birth date and eight characters of the old ancestor and his son. Gong Qi, you make a trip to Huguo Temple — go and investigate what exactly Princess Zhao’an went there for, in case there is something we have overlooked. You may find something useful.”
“Understood.”
“And me?” Shen Qinghe asked quickly: “Is there anything I can do?”
“Sir, the matter of the demonic creature is closely connected to the disappearance of the pure yin women. How to conduct the questioning is your domain. Those young women deserve to have their names cleared — even in death, they deserve to have the truth be known clearly, do they not? And as for the memorial tablets in this ancestral shrine — how did so many people die here? I do not believe that not a single member of the Cong Family knew anything.”
Shen Qinghe straightened, and gave a firm nod.
Without delay, everyone went their separate ways.
Shen Qinghe had people escort the Cong Family members to the cells of the Court of Judicial Review, placing them in separate confinement for questioning. The real Prince Consort was dead, and they had not reported it — they had hidden it. Even the Princess had been switched out. What right did the Cong Family have to cry foul? A missing imperial princess, a dead Prince Consort — even without the matter of the demonic creature, the Cong Family had no hope of clearing their name.
Lang Jiuchuan swept a glance around the hidden room and did not linger. She turned and headed back toward the ancestral shrine — but as she did so, the corner of her eye caught that fraying meditation cushion. On instinct, she picked it up.
“What are you picking up that worn-out thing for? It will only bring ill fortune.” A’Piao looked at the cushion with contempt. He felt nothing but the stench of rot and corruption coming from it — utterly repulsive.
Lang Jiuchuan gripped the cushion and left, returning to the main hall of the ancestral shrine. She saw the sandalwood shelves — a full seven or eight rows of them — and her eyelid gave a twitch. She set the cushion down and said: “The Cong Family certainly knew how to reproduce.”
A’Piao said: “This entire area belongs to the Cong Family’s clan settlement. They say the Cong family members within five generations all live together rather than living separately. People used to say the Cong Family was close-knit. But looking at them now — kept penned in all this time — I suspect the old ancestor was afraid his supply would run away, and kept them all corralled together.”
“Great minds think alike.” Lang Jiuchuan swept her gaze across the names and birth and death dates on the tablets. Her expression darkened: “He did not even spare children who were ten years old.”
A’Piao followed her gaze: “And one who died just last year. How could the Cong Family’s people stand for it — allowing such a young child to die in the old wretch’s place? Did they know what was happening, or did they not?”
A look of revulsion came into Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes: “All those who knew are accomplices.”
A’Piao was equally disgusted: “This is exactly why people say the human heart can be a hundred times more terrifying than any ghost.”
Lang Jiuchuan said nothing further. She looked toward the topmost tablet — the one for the person who had founded the Cong Family line in this place. That would be the old ancestor, would it not?
Cong Bian. Was that him — the mastermind behind everything, the root of all this evil?