The fourth month, during the Qingming Festival, Qingyang Temple was packed with people. Everywhere one looked, women could be seen carrying bamboo baskets filled with incense, candles, and offerings for the dead.

On ordinary days, the incense at Qingyang Temple already burned prosperously, yet nothing could compare to today’s grand occasion. This year, the crowds surged and swelled because word had spread early: the young master of the Rong Family of the Xuan Clan would join the Daoren of Qingyang Temple in opening the Ghost Gate, sending wandering souls and wild ghosts into the underworld to be reborn.

Such a grand ritual ceremony occurred only twice a year, and with the heir of the Xuan Clan presiding over it, the draw was even greater. People flocked to it not only out of excitement at participating in such a momentous event, but also out of a desire to catch a glimpse of the mysterious Xuan Clan heir.

Lang Jiuchuan moved through the crowd without being jostled — and that was because the aura emanating from her was cold as ice, not quite like that of a living person. Many people found it ill-omened and instinctively kept three paces away from her.

In truth, her face was as white as a ghost’s — how could that not unsettle people’s hearts?

Lang Jiuchuan paid no mind to the strange looks from those around her. She cradled Jiangche, who was equally listless, and walked step by step up into Qingyang Temple, her eyes calm and still as water.

She had barely won against Lingxu. Her divine soul was so depleted it could hardly stay within her physical body. If not for the small Nine-Story Pagoda and the bone bell, she would certainly have been incapacitated by the backlash for a long time — let alone come to Qingyang Temple.

“Do you think we’ll really see the Rong Young Master at this Qingyang Temple?” Jiangche asked her listlessly.

Lang Jiuchuan pinched the back of his neck and said, “Hard to say. The fall of a figure like Lingxu — the Rong Family would not fail to sense it the moment it happened. If they take it seriously enough, they won’t let their young master take the risk, just to be safe.”

In truth, she had not sensed any unusual aura or resonance either. If Rong Huanxuan had arrived, she carried the sinews, bones, and blood of this very body — Lang Jiuchuan would certainly have felt some resonance.

But she felt nothing now. Even injured as she was and not yet recovered, detecting even a trace of resonance should not be difficult. So she could only conclude: Rong Huanxuan had not arrived yet.

“You swallowed Lingxu’s soul — refine it properly, and stop talking,” Lang Jiuchuan pressed down on the top of Jiangche’s tiger head.

They had all depleted themselves too greatly. If there was time to recover, they needed to take it quickly and not waste their vital energy.

Jiangche said no more, closed his tiger eyes, and sank into slumber.

Lang Jiuchuan placed him into the tower pouch she carried at her side. At that moment she was suddenly shoved and staggered. She steadied herself and looked up — a man with puffy eyelids met her gaze directly. His eyes were bloodshot, carrying a savage edge, but he quickly lowered his head and made to run.

“Are you going to come out on your own, or do I have to beat you out?” Lang Jiuchuan grabbed his hand and spoke lightly.

The man startled, then immediately put on a slick, shameless grin. “Hey, you little woman — in broad daylight, grabbing a man’s hand like this. What, are you having some kind of fit?”

The commotion drew the attention of those nearby, who gathered around and began pointing and whispering.

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes went cold. She fixed her gaze on the man, and a flash of violet-gold flickered through her eyes.

The man froze. His pupils instantly turned crimson. He looked down at the pale, slender hand gripping his wrist — a hand that looked as though it would snap with a single twist, yet it clamped around him with crushing force, leaving him unable to move at all.

And not only that — a searing heat began radiating from his wrist, smoke hissing up from it, as though even his soul were being scorched. Shocked and furious, the man shouted, “What are you doing?! Let go of me! Someone help — there’s a madwoman harassing me!”

Lang Jiuchuan held him with one hand and reached into her sleeve with the other to produce a talisman. Pinching it between two fingers, she shoved it straight into his gaping mouth.

“Ahhh—!” The man howled in pain, shrieking like a madman, his face contorted in rage. As the talisman burned inside his mouth, a hideous, terrifying face began to surface over his own.

“Ah — look at his face, a ghost has possessed him!” someone screamed in terror, and the crowd scrambled backward.

“Wretched woman, minding other people’s business,” the man snarled at Lang Jiuchuan, and the ghost’s face now pushed fully forward, growing ever more ghastly and malicious.

What a nuisance.

Lang Jiuchuan had just begun to channel the tiny trickle of spiritual power she had managed to recover, when a sharp reprimand rang out from her left: “Blazing essence of flame, divine might in full display — bind the ghost, destroy the evil, shatter the foul, expel the blight! By the command of my Patriarch, I invoke the decree — Edict!”

A peachwood sword descended from above and struck down the protruding ghost face.

“Ahhhh—!” The evil ghost let out a wretched shriek. Its piercing, ghostly cry caused those nearby with weaker constitutions to roll their eyes back and faint outright. Others scrambled and shoved to get away — those too slow to dodge tumbled to the ground.

Screams, wailing, and cries of anguish rang out without cease.

The vein at Lang Jiuchuan’s temple throbbed visibly, her face darkening several shades. She watched as the evil ghost, struck by some reckless fool, sizzled and smoked black — yet the ghost, in its fury, hurled itself at the possessed man’s chest.

It wanted him dead.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Lang Jiuchuan summoned her talisman brush and hooked the evil ghost out. Before the ghost could register its shock and despair, she struck it with a Thunder Talisman.

An evil, murderous ghost like this — why let it go through reincarnation? Better not to waste a place in the cycle.

A thunderous boom rang out.

The evil ghost dissolved into a wisp of black smoke and was completely annihilated — its soul scattered and destroyed.

The area fell silent as a field of chickens.

“Oh, it’s still you who came through, Fellow Daoist Qingyi! If it weren’t for you, that evil ghost would have truly gotten away!” Yice exclaimed excitedly, spreading his arms wide as he jogged toward Lang Jiuchuan. Noticing her ashen face, he let out a surprised sound. “What happened to you — who did you fight and get hit with backlash?”

Lang Jiuchuan frowned. “You’re still as reckless as ever.”

Yice deflated a little. “That evil ghost has already taken several lives. I used every ounce of effort just to catch it, planning to send it through the Ghost Gate while Qingyang Temple had it open. But at the foot of the mountain, I got shoved into the water by the crowd — my ghost-locking talisman got soaked and it escaped. I never expected the wretched thing would find someone to possess in such a short time. Tsk, this cursed ghost — the fellow’s yang essence must have been completely drained by women. No wonder his fortune ran so low that he got possessed…”

He kicked the man lying on the ground — the one with the swollen, bruise-dark eyelids — and clicked his tongue in contempt.

“If it was an evil ghost that took several lives, just disperse it outright. Why let it reincarnate? You nearly caused a catastrophe,” Lang Jiuchuan said with an annoyed glare. “This man, and the others behind all of this — clean it up yourself.”

She stepped around the wretched man on the ground and walked toward the temple.

Yice pressed a fingernail hard into the philtrum of the wretched man on the ground and waited for him to rouse. “You were possessed by a ghost,” he told him. “Go into Qingyang Temple, get some incense ash from a censer, mix it with water and drink it, then get a talisman to wear — clear away that ill fortune. And if you want to keep your sorry life, stop chasing after brothels and pleasure dens.”

With that, he chased after Lang Jiuchuan’s direction. As for those who had fallen — they weren’t going to die from it. Not his problem.

Man on the ground: “…?”

Could someone please tell him — what just happened? What was this about being possessed by a ghost?

Lang Jiuchuan stood before the main hall of Qingyang Temple. Her eyes burned like torches as she fixed her gaze sharply on a direction behind the hall. She had sensed the blood resonance.

It was the Rong Family’s young master.

She actually dared to come.

Lang Jiuchuan darted swiftly in that direction.

Yice, catching up just at that moment, caught only a glimpse of a shadow. He blinked, then followed.