More pressing than grinding Luo Chan’s bones to dust was the matter of the Corpse-Decay Gu on Song Yuedie’s body. If it was not cleansed quickly, the child would be lost entirely.

Song Niangzi buried her fury deep within her chest for now and looked at Lang Jiuchuan. “Little Immortal, what kind of gu does my Die’er have? Can it be removed? And if it can’t — can she at least be allowed to go peacefully?”

She held her daughter’s hand, nothing left of it but bone, her eyes filled with aching sorrow. If the suffering was too great, she would rather take her away quietly. After all, the coffin had already been ordered. The two of them could set off together — at least they would have each other’s company on the road, and would not face it alone.

“If I could do nothing to ease your suffering, why would I have told you to come to the Shop of Myriad Matters? If I summoned you there and then failed to deliver, wouldn’t that be ruining my own reputation?” Lang Jiuchuan looked at the child, who was nothing but skin and bone. “This Corpse-Decay Gu — I can remove it. But she will suffer greatly in the process.”

Judging by the color and thickness of the festering discharge alone, she could already tell this child had been pushed to her absolute limit. Even after the gu was removed, she would need a long period of recuperation to nurse back a body weakened to the very brink. And even then — her lifespan would not exceed forty years.

Lang Jiuchuan explained all of this to Song Niangzi. Tears welled up and spilled over the woman’s face. “Forty. Forty is still good. She’ll be able to see more of this world, taste more flavors and foods she’s never tried. You don’t know — before she fell ill, she loved eating more than anything. She has a gifted palate; she could taste nearly any dish and tell you exactly what spices had gone into it. And she’s only six years old.”

Song Niangzi wiped the corner of her eye, laughing and crying at once.

“I’ll use a talisman to temporarily suppress the gu insects in her body so they cannot run rampant,” Lang Jiuchuan said. “I’ve also sealed her consciousness points so she won’t wake and suffer. Wait here — I’ll go prepare the materials and come back to perform the gu removal.”

Song Niangzi nodded. She thought for a moment, then pried open a loose brick from the corner of the wall, felt around inside, and pulled out a small cloth bundle, which she pressed into Lang Jiuchuan’s hands. “Little Immortal, I don’t know if it’s enough. If it isn’t, tell me the amount, and I’ll pay you back slowly over time.”

The bundle clinked and rattled. Lang Jiuchuan opened it to find gold jewelry — this must be the very last of the household’s savings.

She took only one small gold bracelet and said, “This is enough.”

She placed the bundle back on the bed, then reached out and touched Song Yuedie’s hollow, sunken little cheek. “Wait for me.”

Lang Jiuchuan withdrew her hand and walked out. Song Niangzi stared at the bundle, tears streaming freely down her face. She looked at her daughter and whispered softly, “Die’er, don’t be afraid. No matter what happens, Mother is here.”

Out of Song Niangzi’s house, Lang Jiuchuan turned to Fu Qi: “Keep watch over them for now. Guard against the Spirit Witch tracking them down and striking — the Corpse-Decay Gu is nearly fully cultivated, and she won’t let that slip through her fingers.”

If that deranged little sorcerer descended into madness, this mother and daughter pair would truly be beyond saving.

Fu Qi’s expression turned grave. He nodded.

Lang Jiuchuan bid him farewell, then dispatched Jiang Che to stake out the shrine temple at Marquis Zhenbei’s estate and keep watch on the Spirit Witch. Once she had dealt with the Corpse-Decay Gu on Song Yuedie’s body, she would handle that little witch herself.

They would each take a separate task.

Lang Jiuchuan stepped out to the street entrance and flagged down a mule cart, heading toward Tongtian Pavilion.

The Corpse-Decay Gu was of the utmost yin and utmost venomous nature. To remove it, one required heaven-sent earthly treasures that it feared to be simmered into a medicinal broth — to drive out cold and expel yin toxicity. The finest ingredient for such a purpose was premium Fire Spirit Blossoms that grew from the earth after a mountain wildfire had swept through. To that one would add a measure of Corpse-Fragrance Devil’s Tongue, a plant whose scent mirrored the reek of rotting flesh, along with supplementary medicinal ingredients, all simmered together into a golden-red medicinal broth to draw the Corpse-Decay insects out through the pores.

Of course, before that, gold needles would have to be inserted into acupuncture points to let blood and force the pores open, so that the medicinal broth could seep into the meridians and organs, leaving the insects with nowhere to hide.

The gold needle treatment alone would be agonizing. Given how feeble the child was, precious medicinal pellets would be needed to protect her heart meridian throughout.

And all of these — only Tongtian Pavilion would carry.

Lang Jiuchuan departed and returned. When A’Piao saw her, the memory of being so expertly manipulated made his eyes go red with fury.

This debt-collecting ghost has the nerve to come back!

A’Piao turned away. Lang Jiuchuan’s brow arched as she called after him: “Oh my, Pavilion Master A’Piao just received a generous gift of incense from me not even half a day ago, and already he’s turned his back and stopped recognizing me? Just moments ago we were as thick as brothers — what happened to that warmth?”

A’Piao gave a cold laugh inwardly, thinking: And you have the audacity to bring that up. Do you not have even a sliver of self-awareness about what you did?

But he couldn’t exactly say it aloud — if he accused her of having set a trap for him, wouldn’t that be admitting it himself?

He swallowed his indignation, drew a long breath, and said: “What do you want this time?”

Lang Jiuchuan read every flicker of his expression with perfect clarity. It was apparent he had received some illuminating guidance and realized she had maneuvered him into revealing information — hence the look that said she was no better than dirt in his sight.

Hmph. The Pavilion Master in closed-door cultivation — how long exactly was he planning to stay hidden?

Still, A’Piao was clearly in a foul mood, which meant certain things could not simply be borrowed for free…

Lang Jiuchuan rubbed her nose and curved her lips into a smile. “Naturally, I’ve come to do business.”

A’Piao squinted at her, his smile not quite a smile. “Business? The kind that leaves Tongtian Pavilion at a dead loss?”

Lang Jiuchuan smiled sheepishly. “Listen to you — how could such a thing happen? I’ve truly come to buy something this time.”

A’Piao gave a soft, dismissive snort.

Lang Jiuchuan beckoned to Honglian, who had been stealing glances their way. “Honglian, kindhearted beauty that you are, please open a tab for me. I need premium Fire Spirit Blossoms, Corpse-Fragrance Devil’s Tongue, and a set of gold needles… does your pavilion carry all of that? What’s the price?”

Honglian glanced at A’Piao.

A’Piao said, “Why are you looking at me? The young lady wants to buy — go draw up an account.”

Honglian acknowledged the instruction, brought out an abacus, and began clicking away. After some calculation she announced: “In silver, the total comes to thirty-eight thousand six hundred taels. Given that you’re a familiar patron, we’ll round it down — thirty-eight thousand even.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s expression shifted: “Are you running a den of thieves?!”

“Take it or leave it. Those premium Fire Spirit Blossoms only grow after a mountain fire passes through — one single plant, drawing on the essence of heaven and earth, forged by the fire of the earth’s core, requiring at minimum ten years to fully mature. True heaven-sent earthly treasures, the finest remedy against cold poison. Charging you thirty-eight thousand is doing you a favor. Besides, these Fire Spirit Blossoms are only available here outside of the Xuan Clan’s treasury — if you’d rather, be my guest and go check there yourself.” A’Piao let out a heavy, disdainful snort, folded his arms, tilted his chin slightly upward, wearing the expression of someone waiting to be coaxed — the picture of entitled sulkiness.

Lang Jiuchuan winced inwardly at the pain of the price. “Fine. Get the items ready — I’ll settle the bill at my Shop of Myriad Matters afterward.”

A’Piao was stunned. How had this pauper suddenly become so flush?

“We don’t do credit.” He gritted out the reminder, worried she was planning to stall indefinitely.

“Don’t worry — I won’t leave you short. A mere tens of thousands in coin, that I can manage.”

“Who did you fleece?” A’Piao asked, genuinely curious.

Lang Jiuchuan wore a look of profound wistfulness. “No one was fleeced, exactly. The general is simply generous — gave far too much. Impossible to refuse. Alas.”

A’Piao: “?!”

So that unruly disciple had been digging into his coffers — no wonder he had sneaked off that night and vanished all night without a trace. So he had gone off to excavate a treasure trove for this debt-collecting ghost?