Lang Jiuchuan collapsed on the ground, not even daring to breathe too hard. She listened to the screams coming from the courtyard outside, and the corners of her mouth curved upward slightly. She raised her trembling hands.
She had won this battle again.
Lang Jiuchuan looked at her slender hands and cracked a small smile, then closed her eyes and let out a long, slow exhale.
So tired.
Crack.
Suddenly, a faint sound reached her. Her eyelids gave a violent twitch. Her eyes flew open. A roof tile was plummeting straight toward her — its sharp corner aimed directly at her eye — and at the same moment, the ceiling beams began tilting and caving in.
Lang Jiuchuan rolled rapidly aside to dodge the tile.
This was bad. The house was collapsing.
Lang Jiuchuan spent the very last of her energy using the Displacement Technique, rolling and crawling her way out of the room.
She had barely made it out before the house collapsed entirely behind her with a thunderous boom.
When the celestial thunder had struck earlier, neighbors had already roused from their beds and wrapped themselves in robes to investigate. It wasn’t yet the season of the Waking of Insects — thunder this loud, this early, was strange. They had gone out to look. Now there came yet another massive crash.
And so, all the neighbors on both sides came out to see — and what they saw was the Song family’s house in ruins, billowing with dust and smoke. More than a few people stood in stunned disbelief. Remembering that Song Niang and her daughter still lived there, they all surged over.
Yet no matter how they tried, they could not find the entrance.
This was far too strange!
Thinking of all the misfortunes that had befallen the Song family this past year, their hearts grew increasingly uneasy. Just then, soldiers from the City Guard Bureau happened to be patrolling the street, and people rushed over shouting: “Officers! The Song family’s house has collapsed! Song Shi and her daughter are still inside — heaven have mercy…”
Taking advantage of the chaos, Lang Jiuchuan quietly broke the formation she herself had laid and had Fuwu carry both her and the barely-breathing Spirit Witch out over the back wall.
Meanwhile, someone in the alley on the other side thought their eyes were playing tricks — they could have sworn they glimpsed figures vaulting over the Song family’s wall. Then they remembered that several people had already died in the Song house, and they gave a full-body shudder.
Terrifying!
Deep in the night, with the dew heavy, Lang Jiuchuan did not return to the Marquis Estate. Instead, she returned to the Wanshi Shop, because Song Niang and her daughter had been moved there. Now that their house had caught fire — well, collapsed — she needed to notify them and align their accounts. Otherwise, when the City Guard Bureau dug through the ruins and found no bodies, some awkward explanations would be necessary.
The residence behind the Wanshi Shop had already been tidied up at the time of Lang Jiuchuan’s previous visit. Several rooms had been cleared out, and after Lang Jiuchuan’s guidance, the Zhuang family had packed their luggage and were simply awaiting an auspicious day to depart.
So when Song Niang and her daughter arrived without warning, there was still accommodation to offer. As for Lang Jiuchuan herself — that went without saying; Zhuang Quanhai had even vacated the main courtyard for her.
The Wanshi Shop had its lamps lit. The moment Lang Jiuchuan arrived, Zhuang Quanhai saw how disheveled she was and immediately sent his son to boil water and prepare fresh clothing. He glanced at the old woman on the ground beside her — though curious, he didn’t dare ask too many questions.
The killing energy on Lang Jiuchuan’s body had not yet dispersed, after all.
Song Niang heard the commotion and hurried out from her daughter’s room. Seeing Lang Jiuchuan slumped on the ground, she rushed over in quick, short steps: “Are you all right, Immortal?”
Lang Jiuchuan pointed at the Spirit Witch: “Go. Thrash her. However feels most satisfying — just don’t kill her.”
Song Niang: “?”
“Your daughter’s Corpse-Rotting Gu — that is her handiwork, fed into her mouth through Luo Chan’s hands,” Lang Jiuchuan said, panting.
Song Niang’s eyes went wide with murderous rage. Letting out a cry, she tore the silver hairpin from her head and flung herself at the old woman, stabbing her frantically all over her body — all while wailing and cursing, tears and snot smearing together across her face.
The Spirit Witch lay as still as the dead, without even a shred of strength to resist.
Lang Jiuchuan lay collapsed on the ground equally, not moving, until Song Niang was utterly spent, her wailing cries fading into low, muffled sobs. Then she watched her, piece by piece, wipe the blood from the hairpin with the hem of her skirt, tuck it back into her hair, and come over to help Lang Jiuchuan up.
“Thank you, Immortal,” she said.
Lang Jiuchuan gave a murmur of acknowledgment. “Go take care of your daughter.” She paused, then added: “By the way — your house is no longer habitable. Stay here for the time being to recover.”
Song Niang was puzzled.
Lang Jiuchuan said with mild chagrin: “I made a somewhat large commotion dealing with her — the house collapsed. The City Guard Bureau has been called out now, and they’ll probably be digging through the rubble looking for the two of you. When they ask, say you’d gone out to find a physician for your daughter and weren’t inside at the time.”
Song Niang paused briefly, then said: “I know what to say. I’ll go back first thing in the morning on the pretext of retrieving some clothing and set the story straight.”
Lang Jiuchuan nodded.
“Diedie took her medicine and is sleeping soundly — she doesn’t need constant watching. Let me tend to you, Immortal.” Song Niang helped her to the room Zhuang Quanhai had prepared, assisted her with washing and changing into a set of clothes belonging to Zhuang Quanhai’s daughter, and brought out a late-night meal. Seeing that Lang Jiuchuan’s hands were trembling too much to lift, she picked up the bowl and fed her the noodles herself.
Lang Jiuchuan watched the dead pallor fade from Song Niang’s face and new life begin to return — and the weight in her heart eased considerably.
“Go keep your daughter company. Sleep well. From now on, things will be all right.”
Song Niang’s nose stung. She rose, gave a proper bow of gratitude, and withdrew.
Jiangche came back just then, reporting his own accomplishments with great pride: “I made sure not to touch the other rooms — only burned that room full of venomous insects. Absolutely horrifying. Even those little Daoist priests didn’t dare go near.”
Lang Jiuchuan knew, naturally. “That shows your cultivation has been useful. You’ve improved.”
Jiangche was a little embarrassed to be praised: “Not that much improvement. I just thought — this person is truly vicious. With that face, she looks like a perfectly harmless little girl. But everything she does is utterly devoid of humanity. Using a girl of only a few years old as a Gu container — how could she.”
“She is now in our hands,” Lang Jiuchuan said, “ruined and powerless. But she cannot die here — I won’t sully my hands with her death.”
“Oh?”
“Driving out evil is the business of those who style themselves the righteous path, naturally,” Lang Jiuchuan said lightly. “Like our Great Dan’s Xuan Clan. Send word to the Young Lord of the Gong family — they’ll dispatch whatever Enforcement Hall they have. As for how a person like her came to be in the Zhenbei Marquis Estate, and what connection she had with them — that is no longer any of our concern.”
How the interrogation proceeds, what they uncover — all of that is the Xuan Clan’s affair. And if they discover that this person had dealings with the Zhenbei Marquis Estate — well, that would be quite a show. A marquis estate, harboring such a vicious and twisted individual — what exactly were they trying to accomplish?
Jiangche blinked her large tiger-like eyes. “Somehow I feel like you’re digging a pit for the Zhenbei Marquis Estate.”
“I’m not that sort of person,” Lang Jiuchuan said with a light scoff. “I am merely stating facts.”
Jiangche gave a short laugh. Even you don’t believe that yourself, do you?
“That Zhenbei Marquis has officiated memorial rites for your father year after year. This move of yours — isn’t that a bit of returning kindness with enmity?” Jiangche raised an eyebrow. Did this person even know what kind of concealed resentment she harbored toward that Marquis Estate?
Lang Jiuchuan’s expression didn’t waver in the slightest: “Fact is fact. Sheltering someone like that — the Zhenbei Marquis Estate cannot stand on righteous ground, and I am not someone who would bend the law for personal reasons. Besides — I’m just a young woman. What business do I have bending the law? I don’t know the Zhenbei Marquis Estate — I know nothing about any of this!”
Jiangche muttered under her breath: this young woman, her bite was sharp as anything — take a chomp, and she’d tear off a chunk of flesh.