What Lang Jiuchuan meant by “asking a few questions” became clear to A’Piao the moment she summoned the small pagoda and dragged out the wisp of a wandering soul trapped within.
Seeing Zhengyang Zi — once so spirited and proud, only a single step away from crossing into the Foundation Establishment realm — now reduced to such a pitiful state, even A’Piao couldn’t help but feel a faint twinge of sympathy.
Never mind the Rong Family. Even from a bystander’s perspective, he would feel a pang of regret for this Zhengyang Zi. Word was that he came from the Zhengyi Dao, possessed excellent spiritual roots, and had cultivated all the way to the half-step Foundation Establishment realm — proof enough of his remarkable talent. Had his Dao heart remained steady and grounded, he might truly have broken through into Foundation Establishment, and with such cultivation, not only would his strength have been formidable, but his lifespan would have far exceeded that of ordinary people.
Yet just as he was about to reach the summit of the clouds, he was cast down into the dust by a little girl who looked easy to push around. His physical body was gone, his primordial soul left so weakened it was barely coherent — and worst of all, even after his death, the very family he had served turned around and used him as their scapegoat. His reputation had rotted all the way down to the bottom of the cesspit.
Was this karmic retribution?
When he had followed the Rong Family’s orders and made an attempt on the life of Lang Jiuchuan’s original body — that young girl — had he ever thought this day would come?
A’Piao lowered his gaze, suppressing the cold light in his eyes, and tucked away what was not even real sympathy as he looked toward Lang Jiuchuan.
This one, who plays the pig to eat the tiger — she’s the one you truly shouldn’t provoke. He would do well to take heed.
Lang Jiuchuan sensed A’Piao’s peculiar gaze and glanced over with an unhurried look. Those eyes — clear as a cold spring, yet dark as ink-black game pieces — were impossible to meet directly.
The moment Zhengyang Zi emerged from the Small Nine Pagoda, his instinct was to flee, but a spell formula struck his primordial soul, and the searing heat of talisman-fire blazed through him like a raging inferno. He let out a wretched shriek. His primordial soul crackled and smoked, looking as though it might scatter at any moment — more diffuse and unraveled than it had been before.
“A true man may be killed, but never humiliated — if you mean to kill me, then kill me,” Zhengyang Zi snapped, his voice fierce but inwardly hollow.
Yet his soul was so weakened at that moment that the words carried no dignity whatsoever, and only invited ridicule.
“There have already been more than enough people humiliating you — one more hardly matters. After all, you’re dead. You died as you deserved, which means you at least gave something back to the family that cultivated you all these years.” Lang Jiuchuan let out a cold, amused huff — a laugh that never reached her eyes.
A’Piao’s brow arched upward. Oh ho, she’s starting to stir up trouble and sow discord again.
Sure enough, the moment those words left her mouth, Zhengyang Zi sensed something was off and looked at her with an uncertain, hollow gaze. “What do you mean by that?”
But Lang Jiuchuan left him in suspense, saying instead, “Tell me about the Five Elements Nine Revolution Grand Formation set beneath the Ren Family’s water dungeon — who, exactly, was it set up for?”
Zhengyang Zi froze. “Just who are you, to know of such a formation?”
She had appeared utterly unremarkable on the surface — or rather, truly without a single redeeming quality. So how had she managed to defeat him, a half-step Foundation Establishment cultivator, even with such a broken and battered body? She had to be some powerful figure who had fallen and was forced to return to the living world by borrowing this body!
And now she also knew about the Five Elements Nine Revolution Grand Formation — which only made him more certain her past life had been extraordinary.
For a fleeting moment, Zhengyang Zi was consumed by regret and remorse. Had he known it would come to this, why would he have coveted that immortal artifact? Now look at him — body dead, soul shattered, left in this wretched state.
Lang Jiuchuan had no idea she had suddenly been elevated to the status of a great master in Zhengyang Zi’s mind, but seeing the wary, reverent look in his eyes, she let her own gaze flicker and said, “Who I am is not something a half-step Foundation Establishment cultivator like you is qualified to know. I’ve heard you come from the Zhengyi Dao — to have reached this realm at your age speaks to the proper inheritance of your sect. Yet with such cultivation, you chose to serve the Rong Family as one of their so-called tribute elders. A disgrace to your sect.”
“You—!” Zhengyang Zi looked as though she had struck a raw nerve. “What do you know? The Zhengyi Dao has fallen into decline. I only did what I did because I didn’t want to see my sect and lineage truly disappear.”
“If you had simply admitted that people strive to climb higher, I might have thought better of you. But instead you dress up your pursuit of powerful connections in this grand, self-righteous excuse — it’s nauseating. If I were your master, I’d be furious enough to leap out of the coffin and wish I could turn back time to strangle you in your cradle — you, the one who truly betrayed your sect,” Lang Jiuchuan said with a cold, cutting laugh.
“Shut up, just shut up!”
“Fine — I won’t waste any more words with you. Answer my question from before.” Lang Jiuchuan had no interest in trading verbal blows with him; it was a waste of breath.
Zhengyang Zi was so enraged his soul grew even more insubstantial. “If you’re going to kill me, then kill me,” he said, his voice low and hard. “I’ve fallen into your hands — that’s my misfortune, nothing more to be said about it. So don’t bother with any provocations. I’m already in this state — what does reputation matter anymore? With an enemy lurking in hiding like you, the Rong Family will sooner or later end up just like me. They won’t get off lightly. As for you — I can’t do anything to you now, but if I can at least make you feel wretched, that’s something.”
Look at that — the world was never short of sharp minds. Zhengyang Zi’s sudden clarity and defiance actually earned him a slightly higher regard from A’Piao and Lang Jiuchuan.
But still — who did Lang Jiuchuan think she was? Was she really going to let herself be made to feel wretched?
“If you’d always had this kind of backbone, I wouldn’t have bothered talking to you this long.” Lang Jiuchuan said it lightly, then began rolling up her sleeves with an unhurried, deliberate calm.
Zhengyang Zi looked at her expression — utterly unmoved, perfectly composed — and couldn’t quite read her intent. What does she mean by this?
Then Lang Jiuchuan reached up and unhooked the Dizhong — the very immortal artifact whose toll had brought about his ruin. She wanted to do what — send his soul scattering to the winds?
“Since you won’t talk, I’ll simply take what I need — I’ll search your soul!”
The last word had barely fallen before Lang Jiuchuan gave the Dizhong a single swing, snapped her hand open, and seized Zhengyang Zi’s soul right in her grip, turning on him a grin so savage it could have belonged to the King of Hell himself.
Zhengyang Zi: !