Inside the earth-god shrine, the clay earth-god statue had suffered some damage but retained its form. On the ground before the shrine, numerous incense stick remnants — some fresh, some old — and drips of candle wax testified to regular worship from visitors.
She looked ahead. Cooking smoke rose in thin columns — a small village, not far off, just as A’Piao had said. People from the area or passersby would come to pay their respects. Entirely unremarkable.
But the more unremarkable something appeared, the more likely there was something hidden within it. Who would ever think to notice that inside this slightly dilapidated little earth-god shrine, mixed in among the blessing prayer tablets carved from stone slabs, were someone’s Four Pillars and Eight Characters?
She moved the earth-god statue out from inside the shrine, set it aside, and from behind where it had stood, retrieved a spirit-prayer tablet. She looked at the Four Pillars and Eight Characters carved among the blessing inscriptions, and let out a cold laugh.
The deeper she dug, the more Lang Jiuchuan felt that Cong Bian was a madman — daring to conceive of such things, bold enough to carry them out, and somehow had gotten away with all of it.
What audacity.
“Well, well — what on earth is this? Why does the earth-god look so loathsome?” A’Piao scurried over. The topknot on his head had collapsed into a disheveled mess, as though he’d just been in a brawl, and his aura was slightly unsettled.
“Did you lose?” Lang Jiuchuan raised an eyebrow, then gave Jiangche an approving nod. “These past days of keeping it haven’t been for nothing.”
Jiangche puffed up with pride, head held high, extremely pleased with itself.
During Lang Jiuchuan’s days of recuperation inside the Small Nine Pagoda, Jiangche had stayed with her instead of wandering elsewhere, resting and cultivating alongside her through meditation and insight — and had made some progress.
A’Piao jumped to his feet. “Who said I lost? I simply didn’t lower myself to quarrel with a good-for-nothing. I could still go three hundred rounds with it!”
Jiangche roared and lunged toward him again, ready to start another fight.
Lang Jiuchuan held it back. “Stop making trouble. There are more important things.”
Only then did Jiangche stand down, giving a huff and casting A’Piao a sideways glance. I’ll let you off this time.
A’Piao was still somewhat irritated. If he could actually see where that creature was, would he ever have come off the worse? But he didn’t bring that weakness up, only looking at the earth-god statue and frowning. “The more I look at this earth-god, the more it makes my heart restless and irritable.”
If he kept staring at it any longer, he’d want to smash it to pieces just to vent.
Lang Jiuchuan fixed her gaze on the faint dark red and blood-malevolence aura lurking within the clay statue. “This earth-god was shaped from clay mixed with a person’s vital blood essence. Behind it, there are spirit-prayer tablets, and people have been burning incense and making offerings to it. Given enough time, that accumulation will generate an evil aura — which is why looking at it makes you feel revulsion and agitation in your heart and mind.”
It was the same principle as the Red Lotus Malevolent God from before, except that one had the bones of an actual person sealed inside, worshipped day and night, with vows and devotional force accumulating until an evil god was born.
This earth-god, by contrast, had been shaped from clay mixed with blood essence, formed into a likeness. Then Four Pillars and Eight Characters were carved onto blessing prayer tablets — fashioning the person himself as a god to be worshipped by the common people, siphoning their faith and devotional power.
A’Piao listened to her explanation, his expression shifting through several changes. “Something like this is actually possible?”
“It’s not far removed from keeping a longevity tablet to receive offerings.” Lang Jiuchuan said calmly. “He was simply bolder and greedier — daring to have himself cast as an earth-god.”
“Then these Eight Characters—”
Lang Jiuchuan looked at the carved characters on the stone and laughed softly. “Heaven’s arrangements are truly inscrutable — those words hold no falsehood. Even Heaven has eyes.”
Just now, she had traced the worn thread patterns on the garment’s collar but hadn’t been able to confirm them with certainty. Now, comparing them to what was mixed into the carvings here, she could confirm it.
“Lord Cong?” Lang Jiuchuan spat on the spirit-prayer tablet, her face filled with disgust. “It’s that madman Cong Bian’s.”
A’Piao rarely saw her show anger, let alone spit — and couldn’t help finding it a revelation. So the little lady also has moments of indignation.
“Why would he set up a clay statue to worship himself here? If he truly wanted to play god, wouldn’t a large, well-established temple be better?”
Lang Jiuchuan laughed coldly. “Would he dare? Major temples have monks and Daoists who tend to them, practicing and meditating daily. Someone would eventually notice something amiss. But out here in the rural wilderness — no one pays attention to a run-down little shrine in the countryside. It’s too small for anyone to shelter in, let alone discover what’s hidden inside. Precisely because of that, it’s safe.”
She stood up, closed her eyes slightly, and let her senses extend through the five-element qi of this location’s feng shui. “Moreover, this is an ideal site where wind is gathered and qi converges. Look at the orientation of this earth-god shrine — its back is aligned toward the imperial city, in resonance with it. I once studied Wu Jing’s geographical records and mountain topography. The imperial city is built at the heart of the dragon vein, and this undulating stretch of terrain we are standing on occupies the throat and neck of the dragon’s head. Building a shrine and placing a divine statue here doesn’t just siphon the devotional faith of worshippers — it carries the intent to steal the ground-marrow life force of the dragon vein itself, and to cut the vein as a form of protection. That is how he has managed to steal others’ life spans to extend his own across all these years, evading karmic backlash entirely.”
A’Piao was silent for a long moment before finally speaking. “No wonder he considered himself exceptional, with the ambition to lead his family into the ranks of the Xuan Clan. His mind is sharper than most of the fools currently in the Xuan Clan, isn’t it?”
Lang Jiuchuan also sighed. “Which is why I wonder who his master was. The truly great ones of this age are likely hidden among ordinary folk, unknown to the world.”
She quietly tempered some of the contempt she had felt, lest complacency lead her astray.
“The net of Heaven is vast yet misses nothing — no matter how meticulous his calculations and how cleverly he has concealed everything, someone has still uncovered his secrets. This is Heaven’s fixed order.” A’Piao looked at the spirit-prayer tablet and clay statue on the ground. “By now we can essentially confirm his scheme. Whether he plans to seize that reincarnation for himself or let Cong Gui take it, neither outcome is acceptable. What do you plan to do?”
“His scheme has succeeded because he concealed it deeply enough and had enough patience to wait until today. Now that this conspiracy has fallen into my hands, I naturally cannot ignore it or let it pass.”
A’Piao crossed his arms, watching the cold intent rising on her face with a sidelong look. “How?”
“Naturally, I intend to ruin his plans.” Lang Jiuchuan gave the spirit-prayer tablet a grinding press with her toe tip, her voice unhurried. “A man of his caliber and daring will never accept defeat or resign himself to dying. Over a hundred years, he has stolen the life spans of his own descendants to extend his own life, leaving nothing to chance — he would never be satisfied with merely having a monster spawned and simply waiting. He would never sit idle as time passed, but would instead be storing up strength, building toward his goal, preparing to strike with full force at the decisive moment.”
What did it matter if his cultivation had regressed? As long as he lived, there was still a chance. One could climb back up from the mud and reach the summit again — especially with great ambition driving the way.
“In those years of waiting, I suspect he has not neglected his cultivation in the least — and the arts he has been practicing are of the most extreme yin and malevolent kind.” Lang Jiuchuan said evenly. “Given that — should I wait for him to complete his plans before moving to eliminate him? Naturally it’s better to strike now, while his great work is yet unfinished — break his schemes, and weaken his power.”
She was no more than a girl of coming-of-age years, yet her mind held its own depths and strategies. Between her brows, there was a steadfast and proud resolve — brilliant as a river of stars.
“You intend to use his birth date and Eight Characters to work against him?” A’Piao glanced at the clay statue on the ground, then thought of the small garment she had taken, and began to dimly guess her intentions.
Lang Jiuchuan nodded, then looked at the earth-god shrine again, her voice cold as frost. “He dared to build a shrine here and pose as a false god, stealing the dragon vein’s ground-marrow energy as his protection. Then I will make him suffer the full backlash of that stolen ground-marrow energy, turning it against him.”