What conditions would it take to move you?

Lang Jiuchuan looked at this white-haired old woman, her gaze sliding with cold mockery over the strand of prayer beads around her neck — beads that carried a subtle air of Buddhist intent. She could tell they had been consecrated and blessed by a great master, imbued with a measure of focused spiritual power.

“One strand in your hand, one strand around your neck — Old Madam, you have committed too many wrongs. The only way to settle your conscience is to pay constant reverence to Buddha, isn’t it? No — perhaps it would be more accurate to say you’re afraid this curse might fall upon yourself?”

Old Madam Bai’s aged eyes contracted. Her thin, wrinkled lips pressed into a straight line, suppressed fury flashing in her gaze.

Lang Jiuchuan noticed and said, “It seems you have a clear understanding of the curse — you just don’t dare admit it. Or perhaps you’re powerless to stop it. So these years, you could only watch as your own children died one by one, for all manner of reasons. And now it has come to your grandchildren’s generation.”

She glanced at Bai Jingsong, who had fallen into unconsciousness with blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, and let out a cold laugh.

“Master, you are a cultivator — you cannot stand by and watch someone die,” Madam Ma said, shuffling forward on her knees with both hands reaching for Lang Jiuchuan’s.

Lang Jiuchuan stepped aside, looking down at her with cool disdain. “I am not a monastic. I am not of the Buddhist tradition. I am simply a cultivator.”

Old Madam Bai’s lips twitched. “I asked — what do you want, to get you to help?”

Going to match wits with her?

Lang Jiuchuan took Oriole’s resentful ghost and walked away.

Old Madam Bai’s expression fell.

Madam Ma roared furiously, “Mother, is that any way to ask someone for help?”

She twisted around to look at Bai Jingsong, who had fainted, and let out another shriek. She scrambled up from the floor and lurched after them: “Master, Master —”

Zuo Yan said, “Grandfather, Grandmother — a curse is no small matter. If this curse is not lifted, the Bai Family will know nothing but chaos, and your bloodline will be severed. Ning’er already has one foot at death’s door, and Little Song is no different. Whatever you know, you ought to speak plainly.”

Old Master Bai’s expression was hollow with defeat. “It is retribution. All of it.”

Old Madam Bai’s eyes sharpened as she stared at him.

“The children are all gone. We are the only ones left alive — what meaning does that hold? These old bones are already on the threshold of death. It would be better to follow them and at least have some company on the road. If you want to keep it buried, then bury it.” Old Master Bai walked to his grandson’s bedside and sat down in silence, a thread of resolve entering his eyes.

Old Madam Bai’s heart gave a sudden lurch. Looking at her cherished grandson’s face, now the color of gold paper, she let a few tears slip from her aged eyes. She turned to Zuo Yan and said, “Call her back. I have something to say.”

Zuo Yan walked out.

At this moment, Lang Jiuchuan was speaking quietly to the vengeful ghost of Oriole. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of Zuo Yan following her out. She gave a soft “hmph,” and before he could speak, she said, “Young Lord, I advise you not to ask me on his behalf. I am an unmarried young woman, and what your brother-in-law did was foul and disgusting. If you want me to put my hands on him — I will not. It would defile my cultivator’s heart.”

Defile — not destroy.

She was a clean and unmarried maiden — was she supposed to treat a case of priapism? If the patient had committed no wrong, perhaps — but he had, and she was supposed to treat him anyway? She found it revolting.

Besides, priapism wasn’t going to kill him. At worst, if it lasted too long, a blood vessel might burst. And afterward —

Hmph. He would look back on today’s rigid defiance with a special kind of nostalgia.

A glint of wicked amusement passed through Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes.

Inside the small Jiuta Pagoda, Jiang Che watched her brimming with malicious scheming and hugged his own vitals tighter. This woman was too terrible. Best to protect the essentials.

Zuo Yan looked at Lang Jiuchuan — all bristling edges, nothing like the refined and accommodating manner she had shown at the Duke’s estate. She was like a child throwing a temper tantrum. He felt a headache forming and said, carefully and gently, “Master, it is my grandmother who wishes to speak. If not for Little Song — could you at least help my wife?”

“Young Lord!” Madam Ma shrieked.

Zuo Yan looked coldly back at her, his eyes like hidden knives, and Madam Ma froze in place.

Lang Jiuchuan thought of the wrongness she had sensed about Old Madam Bai, and her gaze shifted. “Very well, then.”

The vengeful ghost Oriole’s resentful energy was surging. Lang Jiuchuan shot her a glance, and Oriole suppressed herself once more — clearly recalling what this person of high standing had just told her.

Lang Jiuchuan walked back into the room. Old Madam Bai, upon seeing her, said, “As long as you save my grandson, I will tell you everything you wish to know.”

“What right do you have to bargain with me? Say it or don’t — it is not my grandson or granddaughter who is dying.” Lang Jiuchuan laughed coldly.

Old Madam Bai’s thin lips pressed even tighter.

Lang Jiuchuan added, “Take your time stalling. The longer you delay, even if he doesn’t die, he’ll be a broken man — passing on the family line? Ha.”

Old Madam Bai’s expression shifted again, and the words burst from her lips: “I once killed a Willow Immortal!”

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes narrowed to half-slits. She fixed a steady gaze on the old woman for a long moment, then turned to the attending physician. “Needle the Taichong, Zhongji, and Danshu points — three deep insertions, one shallow.”

She had no intention of touching him herself.

As Lang Jiuchuan spoke, Oriole drifted forward. The mass of dark resentment wrapped itself around Bai Jingsong’s lower body, then followed the needled acupoints and seeped inward.

Old Madam Bai watched the figure on the bed intently, furrowing her brow, trying to sense what was happening — but feeling nothing, she let out a slight breath of relief.

Lang Jiuchuan took in her every reaction, and her gaze deepened. This old woman truly did have something about her — she was capable of perceiving malevolent forces?

Treasured objects plus Buddhist devotion. She had certainly arranged things well for her own survival.

And yet she never stopped to think — her own life and fortune had been purchased with the lifespans of her children and grandchildren. What good was a long life under those terms?

This woman was selfish and greedy, and it showed.

Lang Jiuchuan continued directing the physician to place the needles, watching as Oriole completed her work, then called her back.

He had forced himself on her and then caused her to lose her life. She had ensured he would, from this day forward, possess the instruments yet be unable to use them — becoming like a monk, suffering for the rest of his days. A fair exchange.

Besides — Oriole had lost her life. He was merely becoming an actual monk. He had gotten the better end of the deal.

Lang Jiuchuan felt no guilt whatsoever. She had never promised to pull this young man from the fire. The fact that she hadn’t watched him suffer a rupture was already her act of mercy.

With Lang Jiuchuan’s guidance on needle placement, within two breaths, Bai Jingsong’s previously unyielding state finally subsided.

Those present let out a collective breath of relief.

At that moment, the physician Zuo Yan had sent for — Head Physician Zhang — also arrived. Lang Jiuchuan stepped back, took out a sheet of yellow talisman paper and drew a talisman upon it, then sealed Oriole inside. She had given her word: she would dissolve Oriole’s resentment and see her through the gates of the underworld.

The words from inside the room drifted to her ears as well. She listened to the new Head Physician pronounce that there was no immediate danger — though the young man had depleted his kidney essence too early and had consumed inappropriate tonics, resulting in damage to his core constitution. He would need careful recuperation going forward.

Additionally, the young man’s mental fortitude was insufficient — having experienced such a thing, he might carry a psychological shadow, and his future… vigor… might prove somewhat lacking. He ought to accumulate more virtuous deeds and cultivate a pure and restrained heart, to prevent the unfortunate situation of the mind being willing while the body cannot follow.

Lang Jiuchuan burst out laughing. As expected — anyone capable of reaching the position of Head Physician was no fool. Those were exquisitely chosen words. If Bai Jingsong ever found himself lacking in certain respects, it would in truth be the result of psychological trauma — and nothing to do with the physician’s medical skill whatsoever.

Head Physician Zhang quickly wrote out a prescription and, upon stepping out and seeing Lang Jiuchuan, said, “I hear it was Miss Lang who guided the needle placement? And the golden needle cataract removal for Imperial Censor Zeng — that was also your doing?”

Lang Jiuchuan gave a soft “mm.”

“The young are truly something to be reckoned with.” Head Physician Zhang smiled in praise, then was promptly dragged off to one side by Madam Ma to speak privately.

Lang Jiuchuan turned her gaze toward Old Madam Bai, who was shuffling toward her unsteadily. “Now, Old Madam, it is time to speak of the Willow Immortal.”