With Lang Zhengping vomiting blood in a fit of fury, the mourning hall — already in chaos — descended into complete disorder.

After swallowing two heart-stabilizing pills in succession, Lang Zhengping’s roiling emotions gradually settled. He drew a long breath and looked toward Lang Jiuchuan, his gaze carrying a measure of scrutiny and something harder to name. After a long pause, he finally asked, “How did you know your grandfather’s remains had been tampered with?”

Lang Jiuchuan said, “Who knows? Maybe the old patriarch appeared in my dream and complained that his head hurt.”

That insufferable tone made Lang Zhengping’s chest ache and the dark blood surge up his throat again — only to be forcibly pushed back down. “Are there any more? What were they trying to accomplish by doing all of this?”

The last question was spoken with anger barely kept in check.

Lang Jiuchuan tore away two talisman papers that had been affixed inside the coffin and handed them to Daoist Zhong. “You were able to identify what was wrong with the coffin nails, so you clearly have some knowledge of these matters. You explain it to him.”

Daoist Zhong: “?”

Since when is this young woman so naturally commanding?

He raised his head to look at Lang Jiuchuan, and taking note of her features, he felt a flicker of confusion. He accepted the yellow talisman papers and looked them over. His brows drew together. “These are yin-gathering talismans? Net-Scale Master, would you take a look?”

The Net-Scale Master accepted them and examined them carefully, then recited a brief Buddhist name. “Without question, these are yin-gathering talismans.”

Lang Zhengping could see from the grave expressions of both men that something was seriously wrong, and his own heart sank accordingly. He had the household members withdraw to the doorway, keeping only his eldest son and third younger brother nearby, and asked in a low voice, “Dares I ask, venerable masters — what do these talismans signify?”

Daoist Zhong and Net-Scale exchanged a glance. They each saw the helplessness in the other’s eyes. They had apparently been drawn into the hidden affairs of a powerful household. For men of the cloth, this was hardly an auspicious thing. But they lived in the mortal world, and having encountered it, they could not simply ignore it.

“This poor Daoist’s learning is limited, and I know only a little of such matters. Benefactor, please hear me out. It is said that if one uses a yin-evil needle to fix the bones and remains, places yin-gathering talismans within the coffin, and then seals the coffin with nails that have been steeped in yin-evil energy — given enough time, the deceased will be cultivated into a ferocious spirit. Once that spirit fully forms, the burial ground itself will become a site of dark yin-evil. In terms of geomancy, this is classified as a great calamity — one that brings disaster to the surrounding land and water, and even to the descendants for generations…”

Daoist Zhong said only as much as was needed, and stopped there.

People believed in returning to one’s roots. The burial ground of the Marquis of Kaiping after his death would naturally be the Lang Family’s ancestral grave. So if Lang Jiuchuan had not intervened, and the old patriarch had been buried in the ancestral grave just like that — once the site of ferocious-spirit energy was fully established, the Lang Family’s geomantic fortune would eventually be destroyed, and their descendants would not survive.

The person behind this was deeply vicious.

Lang Zhengping and the others went pale.

What a venomous scheme. This was a plan to eradicate the Lang Family entirely!

Lang Caimeng had never encountered anything so strange and sinister before. His face drained of color as he asked, “If it had succeeded — would our Lang Family truly have suffered one calamity after another? Do people with such abilities actually exist in this world?”

Daoist Zhong smiled faintly. “The arts of the deviant path have always existed, as have curses of this kind. Those who practice them we call ‘corrupt cultivators,’ and those of genuine ability among them are not easy to deal with. As for whether the scheme succeeds — it depends on the practitioner’s skill and the quality of the malefic objects used.”

“Then in your estimation, venerable Daoist — is the corrupt cultivator who plotted against our Lang Family difficult to contend with?” Lang Zhengping asked, his expression stony.

Daoist Zhong looked instinctively toward Lang Jiuchuan, then gave a deliberately vague reply: “Benefactor need not panic. The Lang Family has a person of merit and virtue as its guardian — you will surely pass through this calamity safely. Has this ominous arrangement not already been broken?”

And the one who broke it, he thought, appears to be this young woman. How strange. Her features — I cannot read them at all.

Net-Scale also glanced at Lang Jiuchuan. When she looked back at him, those eyes of hers—

Net-Scale felt a sudden sharp pain in both eyes and shut them immediately, reciting a Buddhist name, inwardly deeply shaken.

Following Daoist Zhong’s gaze, Lang Zhengping looked in the same direction and fell into quiet thought, his two fingers rubbing slowly together.

Lang Jiuchuan bent down and tidied up the disheveled hair of Old Patriarch Lang. In a place where no one could see, a drop of blood seeped from her fingertip, and she drew a talisman swiftly on his forehead. When the talisman light sank beneath the skin, she straightened up and said to Lang Zhengping, “The auspicious hour is almost upon us. Seal the coffin first — it would be inauspicious to miss the time.”

Sealing the coffin was also a gesture of comfort to the spirit of the departed, and ought not be delayed. All other matters would have to wait.

Lang Zhengping understood that some things were more urgent than others. He turned to face the two religious figures and made a deep bow. “We are entirely ignorant in the ways of such corrupt arts, and do not know how these objects should be disposed of, nor whether my father’s remains require re-preparation. I ask that the two of you oversee the coffin-sealing rites, so that my father may rest in peace at last and his spirit in the afterlife be set at ease. When the funeral observances are complete, I will have the longest and most splendid eternal lamps lit for him at Ci’en Temple and Qinghua Monastery.”

“Infinite is the Celestial Lord.”

“Amitabha.”

With the two of them presiding, more monks and Daoists were quickly summoned. The mourning hall was set in order once more, and to the sound of funeral music, the coffin-sealing ceremony began. All those in mourning withdrew outside to wait.

Madam Fan stood outside with a worried expression, wringing her hands. She leaned close and asked her husband, “What happened in there?”

Lang Zhengping shook his head. “We’ll talk later.”

Behind them, Cui Shi lowered her gaze. She kept her eyes down and did not turn to look in Lang Jiuchuan’s direction — though it clearly cost her some effort.

Once the coffin-sealing began, the assembled mourners began to weep again. With the final lid in place, they would never again see that face.

Lang Zhengping, as the eldest legitimate son, went forward personally to drive the last coffin nail, then knelt with his forehead pressed to the ground, weeping aloud.

Nearby, people stood or knelt, grief written across their faces.

“To conduct a funeral like ours — there couldn’t be another family in all of Wu Jing quite like this,” Lang Cailing murmured. “If word gets out, the Kaiping Marquis household will become the laughingstock of the whole city. After this, how will any of us face anyone?”

Lang Caiguang fiddled with the black mourning band tied around his arm and said airily, “Let them laugh. We’ll all be in mourning and won’t need to go out and see anyone anyway — it’s not as though a laughingstock lasts three years.”

Wu Jing never lacked for new gossip. No matter how entertaining a topic was, it would soon be buried under something new.

That said — with things having gone this badly, outsiders would certainly say the Lang Family kept a disorderly household, and it would likely affect their prospects when the time came for the younger members to make their marriages.

All because of that Lang Jiuchuan — a true troublemaker, stirring up this much chaos the moment she returned.

And yet — looking at the one who had caused it all, she was presently staring blankly into space, and then she yawned.

Lang Cailing glared at Lang Jiuchuan. The other looked back, and Lang Cailing instinctively ducked behind Lang Caiguang. When she realized what she’d done, she stamped her foot in silent irritation.

What was she afraid of her for?

And yet, whenever she recalled the string of things this person had done — and the nightmarish black fog that had felt like something from a dream — her heart couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

Lang Cailing closed her eyes and told herself: I’m not afraid of her. I’m her older sister. I’m simply humoring her.

Without warning, a commotion erupted from behind them. Lang Cailing turned around — and saw a figure, robed entirely in white mourning dress, charging in with murderous intent. Behind him, several people were chasing and trying to stop him in a sweat.

The figure shoved aside whoever stood in his way. “Get out of my way, all of you! Lang Jiu — get out here!”