Your weapon — it is time to unseal it!

Just as unworked jade must be polished before it can become a fine vessel, the Small Nine Pagoda — already a refined treasure — must also be put to its proper use. Like a sharp sword that must be drawn again and again to take lives and drink blood before its edge grows keener and its killing-intent more manifest.

After the Small Nine Pagoda had been refined, Lang Jiuchuan had only ever used it to nurture her soul and contemplate the Dao within it. Its other wondrous purpose — subduing malevolent souls and destroying evil — had never once been tested.

Now, Cong Bian had become the first evil the Small Nine Pagoda would destroy. He was deserving of annihilation.

Wooden Fish naturally understood all of this. It was the pagoda’s artifact spirit — if it wanted to grow sharper and more powerful, it needed to follow its master into battle. So without waiting for Lang Jiuchuan to instruct it, it spread out the spirit-power that resided within it as an artifact spirit, making the Small Nine Pagoda even fiercer and more formidable.

A creature of such wickedness — keeping it alive would only bring chaos and suffering to the living world. Better to let it remain here and become fertilizer for the Small Nine Pagoda’s Evil-Destroying Formation.

On the day Lang Jiuchuan had carved the Dao runes, and later when the Small Nine Pagoda passed through its heavenly tribulation, Master Luobo’s relics had also dissolved into a Buddhist-Daoist essence within the pagoda, settling into the formation runes. The moment the Evil-Destroying Formation was activated, the formidable power of both Buddhist and Daoist paths simultaneously shredded Cong Bian apart.

The formation became a sea of hellish blades, stripping and whittling away his ghost-soul layer by layer, from translucent to nothing.

Cong Bian’s agonized cries shifted from piercing and sharp to faint and weak. He let out one last mournful wail — and in his final moment of consciousness, the image of Princess Zhao’an’s unborn child at the Ridge of Fate-Seizing flickered briefly in his mind. A hundred years of careful planning, ruined at the final step. The anguish of it — his unwillingness to accept this end!

Boom.

A burst of golden light suddenly erupted within the formation, flooding every inch of the ghost-soul that had turned so transparent it was nearly invisible. It transformed into countless shards of scattered light, which then settled into the formation runes.

Wooden Fish gazed at the formation runes — now brimming with even greater celestial force than before — and felt thoroughly satiated, wearing a satisfied smile.

The more ferocious the evil, the moment it is destroyed within the pagoda, the more its sinister energy transforms to fortify the Evil-Destroying Formation with righteous power.

This is what it means to grow stronger by meeting the strong. The Small Nine Pagoda’s strength is its strength.

With Cong Bian’s ghost-soul ground to nothing, Lang Jiuchuan’s spiritual power drained all at once. Her small face went white, and the hands holding the Small Nine Pagoda trembled faintly.

Having expended her cultivation power continuously in dealing with Cong Bian, her physical stamina and spiritual power were entirely depleted. She could no longer stand, and dropped straight down to sit on the ground.

Yet she was filled with joy. Because the most difficult enemy to handle had been eliminated. What remained — the one she was most uneasy about — was the corpse-puppet. But without Cong Bian to guide and direct it, whether or not it could successfully complete the reincarnation was now an unknown.

Regardless, without the one who had been pulling the strings, those below were nothing more than a disorganized rabble. They still had many people — they would certainly be able to apprehend and destroy that corpse-puppet.

If they couldn’t, then they were simply useless.

“Still looking so pleased with yourself — Gong Qi has nearly stared a hole through the Small Nine Pagoda,” Jiangche called out loudly within her spiritual consciousness.

Lang Jiuchuan snapped back to awareness and turned her head. Sure enough, she saw Gong Qi staring intently at the Small Nine Pagoda, his expression carrying a mixture of confusion and puzzlement.

“This pagoda…” Gong Qi walked over and crouched down, reaching out as if to take it: “It’s familiar somehow — I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before.”

The Seven-Star Vajra Pagoda that the Feng Family had lost — it seemed to look exactly like this.

Lang Jiuchuan pulled it away from his reach and said: “You’ve probably seen it in a dream. This pagoda was refined by my master, and I personally drew down lightning to temper it. How could you possibly have seen it?”

“Is that so?” Gong Qi cast a sidelong look at her: “The Feng Family of the Xuan Clan also has a pagoda that looks almost identical to this one. It’s called the Seven-Star Vajra Pagoda. What’s yours called?”

“Nine-Layer Celestial Pagoda — one character taken from my name, also called the Small Nine Pagoda.” Lang Jiuchuan held up the Small Nine Pagoda: “Can you see the purple on the pagoda’s surface? That is the force of thunder and lightning. Does that Seven-Star Vajra Pagoda of theirs have anything like this? Touch it and see.”

Gong Qi reached out and touched it. His hand went slightly numb with a tingling pain — sure enough, it was the force of thunder and lightning.

His doubts immediately dissolved — though not entirely, because it really did look very much like the Feng Family’s Seven-Star Vajra Pagoda.

“What happened to Cong Bian’s ghost-soul?” Gong Qi thought of how the moment this Small Nine Pagoda appeared, Cong Bian had vanished — he couldn’t help but think deeply about whether it was connected.

Lang Jiuchuan said with obvious pride: “My Small Nine Pagoda is a treasured implement. Once it made its appearance, where could Cong Bian possibly escape to? He has naturally already been ground to destruction within it!”

Gong Qi raised an eyebrow: “Lady Ninth always says she only knows a little bit — looking at things now, that was truly modest.”

“Amitabha. Female patron, you are of great virtue and boundless merit.” Abbot Xuanneng had walked over at some point, smiling and inclining his head toward her.

Lang Jiuchuan put away the Small Nine Pagoda, rose and returned the bow, and said humbly: “The abbot’s great compassion — this task of destroying evil and upholding the righteous path was by no means accomplished by me alone. It was through the abbot and all your fellow brethren lending your aid that we were able to eliminate Cong Bian, who carried such an enormous weight of karmic debts.”

Cultivation is not easy, and accumulating a lifetime’s merit through cultivation is even more difficult. Abbot Xuanneng and the others had also expended tremendous effort — even if they were not like those supremely high-cultivated monks and Daoist priests whose dharma and power were boundless, they possessed a compassionate heart for all living beings, and for that they had been willing to suffer damage to their divine souls without the slightest hesitation.

Lang Jiuchuan observed the few monks who had been affected by the demonic energy — still somewhat dazed and muddled — and saw that the abbot’s complexion was pale, with a trace of crimson blood at the corner of his mouth. She bowed again: “Boundless is your merit.”

Abbot Xuanneng returned the bow with pressed palms, and said with furrowed brow: “This old monk observed that Cong Bian was verging on demonic corruption — and to think that the world still contains a demonic path’s sacred texts. One does not know where it currently resides. If it falls into the hands of those with malicious intent, I fear more people will be drawn to this shortcut and willingly fall into the demonic way in pursuit of the highest cultivation. Should a demon truly come into being in this world, it would be a catastrophe for humanity. If such demonic texts truly exist, they ought to be destroyed.”

Lang Jiuchuan looked toward Gong Qi: “This is indeed so. This matter must look to the Xuan Clan for a thorough investigation — after all, the Xuan Clan holds a position of transcendent authority. What does Fellow Daoist Gong think?”

Gong Qi, still dwelling on the Small Nine Pagoda in her hands, was caught completely off guard — she had suddenly placed him on a pile of burning kindling, and cold sweat began to form.

Just a moment ago they had been destroying evil together — how had the fire turned on him so quickly?

Gong Qi’s mind raced: “When demons appear, the world falls into chaos. Not only must the Xuan Clan be vigilant and thorough in its investigation — Buddhist and Daoist sects alike cannot ignore this matter either. What is the abbot’s view?”

“This old monk is deeply of the same opinion.” Abbot Xuanneng nodded, his body swaying slightly.

Seeing this, Lang Jiuchuan was just about to urge him to go rest, when she suddenly felt a warmth in her spiritual consciousness — her divine soul seemed to receive a comforting touch, and the spiritual power that had been depleted just now showed signs of recovering and returning.

This is… a bestowal of merit?

She looked toward Gong Qi. The other person also found this remarkably strange and pleasing: “Is this — merit entering the spiritual consciousness?”

Abbot Xuanneng’s face was gentle and compassionate, his expression seemingly one of quiet reverence as he pressed his palms together: “Amitabha. The Buddha’s compassion is boundless.” He looked at both Lang Jiuchuan and Gong Qi, and added: “To encounter such young practitioners — the people of this world are fortunate indeed.”

Gong Qi returned the bow in a haphazard fashion, grinning like a happy fool.

Lang Jiuchuan shook her head, raised her eyes to the darkening sky, and said in a measured voice: “We should be heading to the Ridge of Fate-Seizing.”

“The Ridge of Fate-Seizing?” Gong Qi asked in surprise: “What kind of place is that?”

Within the Small Nine Pagoda, Lang Jiuchuan had glimpsed Cong Bian’s final thoughts — the Ridge of Fate-Seizing, and the unborn child in Princess Zhao’an’s womb. This, it seemed, had become his dying obsession and regret — the thing he could not rest in peace over — after a hundred years of planning had been overturned.

Gong Qi looked toward the sky, now completely dark: “Only one day remains.”

“Amitabha — Fellow Gong Patron, something was discovered in the meditation quarters where Princess Zhao’an stayed for an extended period. Please come and take a look.” A monk hurried over to report.

Gong Qi’s attention sharpened. He and Lang Jiuchuan exchanged a glance.

Something was found?