The dead of night — the hour when Yin energy weighed heaviest.

Lang Jiuchuan took out soul incense, prepared a roasted chicken and a jug of good wine, drew talismans, laid out a small summoning array to invite a divine presence, and then raised the Panguan’s talisman brush with both hands, swiftly forming seals, murmuring an incantation under her breath.

A formal supplication to Panguan.

The incense burned rapidly, yet Panguan’s ghostly form did not appear.

Lang Jiuchuan finished her invocation, opened her eyes, and let out a derisive laugh at the ashes of the soul incense. He had clearly received her offering of incense and still would not come — that was taking something for nothing.

Fine. She had given face once; she could endure a second time. But if he was going to make her come three times before emerging, she would simply use force.

Lang Jiuchuan lit another stick of incense, but this time, instead of reciting an invocation, she sent her spirit directly — a direct transmission of thought. It was not, it should be said, anything particularly polite.

The incense burned down. Panguan still did not come.

Lang Jiuchuan’s expression darkened. She stopped lighting incense entirely, tore off a chicken leg and started eating it herself, drank half the wine, and then began performing a rite: she opened the Ghost Gate.

A solemn, weighty Yin energy settled and accumulated in mid-air, as though something lurked within it, half-visible. A night watchman passed by, glanced up, rubbed his eyes — why did it look as though there was a pitch-black door hanging in the air up there?

Must be his old eyes playing tricks. This watchman’s post really did need to be handed off to his son. He was getting too old; it was time to retire.

He had no idea that the gate overhead opened into the Underworld — the place the living feared above all else.

The ghost officers guarding the gate watched helplessly as the Ghost Gate was wrenched open by force, on the verge of tears: Great Panguan, this wasn’t because they hadn’t guarded properly — the summoning power of the one out there was simply stronger than their ghostly abilities!

Panguan had been lurking behind the gate all along. Watching it being forced open, he stamped his foot with a grim expression, then stepped through in one stride.

Very well, very well. If she absolutely insisted on summoning him, then he would have a proper reckoning with her over the matter of the talisman brush — she had borrowed it for far too long, and it was time for her to return it.

Lang Jiuchuan was gnawing on the other chicken leg. She watched the black-robed Panguan appear and gave an exclamation: “Panguan, what a grand ordeal it is to summon you.”

“Lang Family’s Ninth Daughter,” Panguan said, taking the initiative, his expression stern. “Yin and Yang are separated for good reason. Your soul is presently incomplete — if you wish to gather your soul whole and truly merge with this body and be reborn, you should be cherishing the merit, vow-power, and spiritual force you have cultivated. Rather than squandering it on these exhausting and fruitless endeavors simply because you have the ability.” He pressed on, “Rebirth is not easily won, and the opportunity even rarer. If it were not for… if your merit from your past life were not sufficiently great, borrowing a body to return to the mortal realm and continue cultivation would have been entirely impossible. You have only this one chance. Lose it through carelessness, and it will be gone.”

Lang Jiuchuan snorted a laugh. “This business of borrowing a body into rebirth was not of my choosing, was it? And what a body it is — this decrepit, ruined one. Panguan, is this your punishment against me? Your words sound ever so fair, yet you are the one who arranged for me to be forced into this wreck of a body. Just repairing it alone has consumed immeasurable merit and soul energy. Don’t you find that rather contradictory?”

Panguan’s expression did not waver. “Borrowing a body to be reborn is already a defiance of Heaven’s order. This body is the most compatible with you — there was no other choice. Stop being so difficult to please. A person ought to know when to be content.”

“This ‘compatibility’ — what exactly is the hidden story behind it? Panguan might as well lay it all out.” Lang Jiuchuan fixed her gaze on him. “Otherwise, this child will have to get cross with you.”

Panguan’s face was as dark as the night. “Do not push your luck. How many ghosts in the Ghost Gate yearn for rebirth and cannot have it — you dare to pick and choose, as though you wish to ascend to the heavens?”

“I wouldn’t dare try for the heavens, but I can certainly go below. Shall I escort you back to the Underworld, my lord?” Lang Jiuchuan made a show of taking his arm. “You are my most powerful connection in the depths below — naturally you deserve proper respect.”

Panguan threw off her hand and jumped back two paces, glaring at her. “Insolent child, don’t go laying hands on people.”

Lang Jiuchuan was entirely unintimidated, locking eyes with him head-on.

Panguan was the first to back down, his expression carrying a trace of exasperation. “What exactly do you want?”

“I simply want to know about my origins.”

“You little troublemaker — defying Heaven’s order already carries enormous consequence for me. Do not make things difficult.” Panguan was unusually grave. “That you are able to change your fate, that you have already been lifted up by no small number of people helping you — but as for this fate of yours, if it is truly to be transformed through fire, you must rely on yourself.”

Lang Jiuchuan frowned. People helping to lift her up — who?

Panguan glanced at her expression, then said, “There are many things you must uncover yourself. Those who cultivate the Dao — when has anyone ever reached the summit in one step? Every pass is hard to cross, and yet every pass gets crossed. You should reflect on this.”

Lang Jiuchuan was quiet for a moment, then said, “Fine. My origins, I’ll work out myself. But could you at least let me know — has Lang Zhengfan been reincarnated yet?”

Panguan’s eye twitched.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make things difficult for you. Just that one question. If you don’t answer me, I’ll try to summon his soul anyway — Panguan, you and I have known each other for some time now. Why make me drain my spiritual essence needlessly?” Lang Jiuchuan pointed at her own face. “Open your eyes and look at this pale face of mine. I’ve been cultivating for so long and it still won’t turn properly rosy — you know how hard it is to maintain.”

She had to play the pitiful card. Absolutely had to.

Panguan said irritably, “If you didn’t keep trying to barge through the Ghost Gate, you wouldn’t be in this state.”

Lang Jiuchuan clasped her hands together with an ingratiating smile. Please, please.

Panguan held himself back, then gave in. Very well — consider it ridding himself of a plague.

He called forth the Book of Life and Death and opened it to Lang Zhengfan’s entry. When he saw Lang Jiuchuan craning her neck and squinting to try and peek, he turned away from her, swept a glance over the page, closed it, and his expression turned peculiar.

Lang Jiuchuan pursed her lips. Truly stingy — wouldn’t even let her see one glance.

Panguan put the Book of Life and Death away and said, “He has already entered the Reincarnation Platform. It won’t be long.”

His soul, then, had not been tampered with by Xie Zhenming. Lang Jiuchuan felt a loosening in her chest and smiled. “Could I ask…”

“No.” Panguan’s eyes snapped wide, his expression completely dark. “I urge you to know when to stop.”

Lang Jiuchuan swallowed her next question and, showing some propriety for once, transmuted her offering to him — the chicken with two legs missing and the small half-jug of wine. She couldn’t very well send him back empty-handed, could she?

Panguan: …

What sort of decent person offered incense and didn’t leave a single chicken leg?

Though, on reflection, he feared that if he ate more he would talk more, and talking more would only bring down Heaven’s punishment onto his head. He simply couldn’t afford it.

He picked up the legless chicken and the small jug of wine, turned, and headed back to the Underworld. Lang Jiuchuan smiled and waved him off. “Panguan, I won’t see you out! Until next time!”

Panguan passed through the Ghost Gate. “Close it. Quickly.”

The ghost officers slowly drew the Ghost Gate shut. Only then did Panguan exhale. He looked down at the legless chicken — and suddenly felt that something had slipped his mind.

Oh, no. He had forgotten to reclaim his talisman brush.

Lang Jiuchuan carefully tucked the talisman brush away. What a close call. If Panguan had remembered, they would have been bickering over it again.

Her smile faded. She pressed her lips together, turning over what Panguan had said — that she had been able to return from death in large part because someone had lifted her up. Who?

“You even dare to trap a Panguan into giving you what you want — you must be some great mischief-making demon descended into the world.” Jiang Che bounced out, gasping great breaths of air. The whole time Panguan had been present, it had not dared emerge, terrified of being seized and sent off for reincarnation.

“When there’s a direct path available, why not walk it?” Lang Jiuchuan said.

She looked down at her own hands, her expression complex. Panguan had seemed to say almost nothing, and yet he had said everything. As for so-called compatibility of the body — it was, in the end, all a matter of cause and effect.

Her origins were unusual — he had not denied it!

Lang Jiuchuan glanced toward the direction of Qichi Pavilion, a restless unease stirring in her for a moment.