Although she had not managed to learn the full nature of her own origins from Panguan, knowing that Lang Zhengfan had already entered the Reincarnation Platform and was waiting for rebirth gave Lang Jiuchuan no small measure of relief. She had feared nothing else so much as the possibility that he might have ended up like Master Ning Long — his very soul suppressed with nowhere good to go. He had already died miserably enough; if his soul were also bound in place, that would truly be the cruelest fate imaginable.

Fortunately, he had not suffered quite to that degree.

In good spirits, Lang Jiuchuan made another offering of wine, food, and incense to Panguan — a deity one kept on good terms with was one who would be easy to visit again and again, was he not? As for whether Panguan was pleased or alarmed upon receiving it, that was entirely his own affair.

The bond of incense and offerings must never be allowed to break. She was, after all, a thoughtful person.

With Lang Zhengfan’s soul having gone to the Reincarnation Platform and his next rebirth likely not far off, the only matter remaining where he was concerned was vengeance. She need not worry any longer that the Marquis Zhenbei might be holding his soul hostage to constrain her.

While waiting at Marquis Kaiping Manor for Lang Zhengping to compile a roster of the people who had been close to Lang Zhengfan, Lang Jiuchuan cultivated in her spare moments and, in her idle hours, drew up a set of architectural plans. She sent them through Fuqi to have the inner courtyard residence attached to Wanshi Pawnshop renovated and freshly plastered. Additionally, from the heap of treasures he had gathered for her, she selected several pieces of jade, tourmaline, and the like, brought them back, and carved them into jade talismans. These she placed within the small spiritual-gathering array in her study to be nurtured, intending to use them later to lay out a Five Elements spiritual-gathering feng shui arrangement throughout the rear courtyard.

Beyond that, Lang Jiuchuan also retrieved materials she had obtained from Tongtian Pavilion and set about making Fuqi a new paper body. The paper had been specially treated with unusual materials and was already impervious to both water and fire. What Lang Jiuchuan needed to do was use supple and unbreakable willow branches to form the skeletal framework, paint it in the proper colors, press in a water-and-fire deflecting seal, and then animate it with spirit — after which Fuqi could dwell within it.

Willow branches belonged to the Yin by nature, making them far better suited as the inner framework of a paper person — better than bamboo or the like — for a ghostly soul to inhabit. Lang Jiuchuan was protective of those in her circle and generous toward her own people, especially since Fuqi had brought her such an enormous mound of treasures. And so the paper body she crafted was vivid and lifelike — even Jiang Che, seeing it, couldn’t help but feel envious.

It, too, wanted to have a body.

Lang Jiuchuan told it to go deep into the mountains and forests to look around, to see whether there might be any small tiger cubs with whom it had a fated connection. After all, it was nothing more than a cluster of spiritual consciousness — if it found a suitable match, it could enter a body through the merging of spirit, which would not truly count as possession.

Jiang Che thought this over and decided it made sense, but before setting off, it asked Lang Jiuchuan to cast a divination on its behalf. As payment, it offered her a lump of gold the size of two fists — she had no idea where it had dug that up.

Lang Jiuchuan took the payment and did the work, reading the divination. Only once it had left did she quietly examine the reading: nine deaths and one survival. But if it returned safely, its future would be full of promise.

She had not told Jiang Che this directly. Cultivation was something one had to face on one’s own — no matter how dangerous the path, one must press forward. Those who feared death and clung to life might as well give up any thought of cultivation from the start and live out their days in ordinary, muddling comfort.

But if one wished to cultivate the Great Dao, even if the road ahead were paved with thorns and blades, one still had to walk it.

With Jiang Che off on its journey, Lang Jiuchuan remained in the manor but was by no means idle. She crafted the paper body, carved the jade talismans, and even carved a string of flowing-bead bracelets for herself, which she consecrated personally. The beads were carved from the gems and jewels Fuqi had provided. Each one bore engraved Daoist talismanic script, and after consecration the flowing beads grew more luminous and translucent, glinting with drifting light as she moved her hand, carrying a faint trace of golden radiance.

Daoist flowing beads, well carved and properly nurtured, could become a protective magical implement.

That was exactly what this string of hers had become — a hundred and eight beads worn on her wrist, perfectly in harmony with her entire bearing and presence.

In such a manner, half of the second month passed. Lang Jiuchuan received from Lang Eldest Uncle the roster of the personal troops who had once served Lang Zhengfan. Those still living had been listed separately from those who had died, and for each surviving name, the record was thorough: what post they had taken up after Lang Zhengfan’s death, what position they currently held, who their family members were, and the full reach of their marriage alliances — all compiled into a small notebook.

The most detailed entry of all was for Marquis Zhenbei, Xie Zhenming.

Lang Jiuchuan glanced at Lang Eldest Uncle. He was watching her steadily; feeling her gaze sweep toward him, his heart sank and ached and went bitter all at once.

Sometimes, silence is the answer.

Lang Jiuchuan had already given him his answer long ago.

Lang Eldest Uncle drew a deep breath. “Marquis Zhenbei’s manor is about to hold a celebration — but we are in mourning, so we won’t be going. Sending a gift is sufficient.”

In truth, had Lang Jiuchuan not warned him against startling the quarry, he would not even have wanted to send a gift. Did Xie Zhenming deserve it? Did he not fear the thunder of Heaven’s judgment?

“We won’t attend the wedding banquet, but there is the annual memorial rite your father had held every year — they announced early on that their household would be hosting it this year. What do you think?” Lang Eldest Uncle frowned. “We can hold our own. We won’t owe them any favor.”

“This is not about owing them a favor — it is about him seeking absolution.” Lang Jiuchuan said lightly. “If they want to hold it, let them. What needs to be settled will be settled regardless. And as for my father — he will be reincarnated very soon.”

Lang Eldest Uncle grabbed her hand. “What did you say? Your father — you’ve seen him?”

Lang Jiuchuan exerted a slight pull and freed her hand from his grip. “I haven’t. I merely inquired of the divine.”

Lang Eldest Uncle’s eyes grew moist; he rubbed his hands together and said, “Is it true? Do you know where he’ll be reborn? Will it be into a good family?”

“The workings of Heaven cannot be revealed, so I do not know that either. But he served as a commander in life and carries merit upon him, and he committed no wrongs in his time. He should be reincarnated well — at the very least, into a life of comfort and sufficiency.”

Hearing this, Lang Eldest Uncle dabbed at the corners of his eyes and broke into a joyful smile.

Seeing that he still wanted to keep asking, Lang Jiuchuan made a convenient excuse and sent him off, then took the roster into her study, read through every name, and tapped lightly on the table.

Xie Zhenming — like the Spirit Witch, he had directly laid his hands on Lang Zhengfan. The Spirit Witch had already been dealt with; he was next. And as for anyone else who may have been involved?

One by one, in due time. No rush.

Lang Jiuchuan put the roster away and pinched her fingers in a swift divination — then packed up Fuqi’s paper body and a few other things, thought it over, went to say a word to Cui Shi, and departed the manor with Jian Lan for Wanshi Pawnshop.

She had a sense that business was coming to the door today.

And sure enough, the moment she arrived at Wanshi Pawnshop, she saw Fuqi attending to a visitor.

Lang Jiuchuan looked toward the guest. It was someone dressed in the manner of a maidservant, with a vaguely familiar air — as though she had seen her somewhere before.

The woman also looked at her, blinked, and said, “Are you the Ninth Young Miss of Marquis Kaiping Manor?”

Lang Jiuchuan had Jian Lan take the things inside. “I am. And you are?”

“This servant is the wet nurse of the younger sister of Xue Family’s First Young Madam, known to most as Wang Xi’s wife. My household serves Chengle Marquisate Manor. I was at the Xue household once, bringing gifts on behalf of our young miss for Young Master Xue, and I happened to see you there on that occasion.” Nanny Wang gave Lang Jiuchuan a respectful bow. “I had not expected to encounter you here. Could this Wanshi Pawnshop truly belong to you, Miss?”

“I am the proprietor here,” Lang Jiuchuan said with a nod. Her gaze swept a quick circle around Nanny Wang. “You’ve come on behalf of your young mistress?”

Nanny Wang gave a startled cry and clapped her hands together. “What a remarkable coincidence this truly is — I searched and searched and have ended up here. I did indeed come for our young mistress. But how did you know, Miss? Could it be that Xue Family’s First Young Madam has already come to seek your help?”

Lang Jiuchuan was momentarily surprised. Someone from the Xue household had come looking for her?