The Marquis Kaiping estate had truly had quite the year of incidents. The earlier uproar over how Lang Zhengfan — who had been reported dead in battle more than a decade ago — had actually been murdered had barely died down, and already there were new rumors spreading: that Lang Zhengfan’s posthumous daughter was a demon threatening the nation.

When such gossip spread among the common people of Wu Jing, most treated it as entertainment. But among the nobility, the majority concluded that this young lady’s reputation was ruined — that she would have a hard time finding a match going forward. Who among those who valued their own standing would dare take in a woman who had once been branded a demon?

Yet there were also those who dismissed it entirely, and even made a conspicuous show of sending Duanwu Festival gifts to the Marquis Kaiping estate — many fine things explicitly addressed to the ninth young lady of the Lang Family.

And these were no ordinary households. They were among the most prominent and respected noble officials in Wu Jing. Through their actions, they were making their endorsement of Lang Jiuchuan plain, and showing nothing but contempt for the demon accusations.

Even so, the rumors had not quieted. They seemed instead to be growing in intensity. Now someone had even come with official soldiers to surround the Lang estate, and several Daoist priests had arrived as well — demanding that the Lang Family hand over Lang Jiuchuan, the so-called demon they were harboring, so that the righteous path could adjudicate whether she was demon or monster.

“Look to the southwest — dark clouds gather and do not disperse. The aura of malevolence hangs overhead. Truly an inauspicious omen.” A Daoist abbot in yellow robes stroked his beard, frowning, and gestured vaguely toward the southwest with his fly-whisk.

“Daoist Miaocheng is quite right.” Another Daoist, not yet forty, his hair bound in a Daoist topknot, let out a cold snort. “Demonic energy surges to the heavens. That demon is certainly a ruinous and malevolent thing.”

“And what sort of thing are you, then?” A voice, cool as frost and ice, rang out immediately after his words.

Daoist Zhang, without thinking, replied, “I am not a thing—”

The words died in his throat. He spun around, staring at the source of the voice, and when he saw the refined and otherworldly face before him, he froze for a moment.

She wore a pale green robe embroidered with cloud patterns, her jet-black hair pinned with a single violet-jade hairpin. At her waist hung several ornaments — a small bell, a tiny chime — her figure slender, yet standing straight as a pine.

She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her gaze cold and blade-sharp as she swept it across the gathered crowd. The pink-white of her lips curved upward slightly, drawing out a faint trace of mockery.

Were they determined to bring her down, or to force her into submission?

Lang Jiuchuan looked over the soldiers, then swept her gaze across the crowd of common people packed in so tightly that not even water could pass through, and her eyes grew even keener.

How utterly tiresome.

Her sudden presence made every practitioner of the so-called righteous path turn to look at her — but the moment their gazes met hers, their backs involuntarily stiffened, and a sense of awe stirred in their hearts. Then, upon realizing how young she was, several of them felt a flash of embarrassed anger.

They had been cowed by a little girl.

“Who is your family, young lady? How can you be so impolite?” Daoist Zhang asked in a stern voice.

Lang Jiuchuan replied with mockery, “I thought your fellow Daoist had grown a pair of divine eyes — of extraordinary wisdom, nothing could escape your discernment. Yet it turns out you’re simply jostling for attention among your colleagues.”

Daoist Zhang, stung by her words, flushed red. “How dare you!”

“Can you actually see the demonic energy surging from the southwest? So the demon is hiding somewhere over there?”

“That is precisely so—”

“Daoist Zhang!” Miaocheng immediately tried to stop him, but it was too late.

“Strange, then. I’m standing right here — how does my home have demonic energy rising from it?” Lang Jiuchuan let out a light, unhurried laugh, and walked step by step toward the front gates of the marquis’s estate. Under the gaze of all present, she positioned herself squarely in the center of the main entrance and swept the crowd with a cold, impassive stare.

What — this was the ninth young lady of the Lang Family? The legendary demon?

Daoist Zhang’s face cycled through shades of red and white with shame. This person, without even raising a hand — with nothing more than a few words — had slapped him squarely across the face.

He had declared that demonic energy was surging from the Marquis Kaiping estate — yet the very demon they spoke of had been standing right in front of him and he hadn’t recognized her at all. The absurdity of it was impossible to overlook.

“That is the demon Lang Jiuchuan. Someone — seize her at once and escort her to the Jianchasi’s prison.” A sharp voice cut through the air.

Lang Jiuchuan followed the sound. The speaker was no older than sixteen or seventeen, clad in a dark robe with a gold crown on his head. His robe was embroidered with three-clawed dragons and auspicious cloud patterns — imposing enough, and carrying a faint trace of spiritual quality. But his eyes were too restless, and his gaze lacked uprightness.

“Yes, Third Imperial Prince.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s brow arched slightly. So this was the imperial prince that Rong Huanxuan had sought a marriage alliance with — Tantai Cong. The look he turned on her was full of malice and arrogance, the corners of his lips curving in a slant.

Rong Huanxuan — how ordinary, in the end. She didn’t even make a move herself, only went crying to her betrothed, and he came to cause trouble on her behalf?

So were these people acting because Tantai Cong wanted to please his fiancée — or had the Rong Family also played a hand in strategizing all this?

No matter which — they were all cut from the same cloth. Stumbling blocks placed before her. If they couldn’t be moved, they would be blasted away.

The armored commander led his men forward. When he caught a clear look at Lang Jiuchuan’s face, his expression shifted slightly. This was a demon?

Nevertheless — he followed orders and acted accordingly.

“Will you come with us, or will we escort you?” Commander Huang looked at Lang Jiuchuan, his words cold and hard.

Lang Jiuchuan lowered her head and laughed softly.

“Stop — what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The estate’s front gates burst open behind her, and Lang Zhengping came charging out, planting himself in front of Lang Jiuchuan. He stamped his foot furiously at Tantai Cong. “May I ask, Third Imperial Prince — what crime has the Marquis Kaiping estate committed, that you dare surround our Lang home and attempt to seize our young lady? On what grounds? Whatever the matter — if someone is to be arrested, arrest me. I am the Marquis Kaiping. This estate is under my authority. Ninth Young Lady — you, get inside!”

He twisted toward Lang Jiuchuan and barked at her, his reddened eyes sending frantic signals, his lips moving soundlessly: once you’re inside, run immediately — don’t worry about what happens out here, no matter what wind blows from north, south, east, or west!

Lang Jiuchuan read his lips clearly and gave a faint smile, nodding her head slightly at him.

It’s all right. She was here.

“Marquis Kaiping, the one behind you is not your niece Lang Jiuchuan — it is a demonic entity that has seized her body from parts unknown. Stand aside. I will plead before my Imperial Father on your behalf — the marquis’s household was merely deceived and manipulated. Out of consideration for the late Zhongyong Marquis, your household’s crime of harboring a demon will be pardoned.” Tantai Cong swept his robe sleeve and declared with haughty authority. “But should the Marquis persist in his obstinacy — do not blame us for adding the charge of colluding with a demon.”

Lang Zhengping’s eyes blazed red. “Utter nonsense. A perfectly fine young lady of our Lang Family — how is she a demon? She’s as slight as a reed — where is there any demonic energy about her? Enough of this outrageous slander!”

“That’s right. My ninth younger sister is nothing more than a delicate, sickly young girl.” Lang Caicheng also stepped forward. “Demons harm people. May I ask — whom has my ninth younger sister harmed?”

Lang Caimeng’s eyes burned with fury. “When you wish to condemn someone, the charges will always be found!”

“Second Uncle, you died such a wrongful death,” Lang Caizhao wailed, dropping to sit on the ground and slapping his thigh. “If only you hadn’t been killed off so early by that cursed Xie Zhenming — who would dare trample all over your posthumous daughter like this?”

Behind the gate, Lady Fan’s chest clenched with fury. She ordered her servants: “When did he sneak out there? Go drag the twelfth young master back — this is no place for him to be making a scene!”

Tantai Cong watched the Lang Family carry on so shamelessly, and let out a furious shout: “Lang Jiuchuan, you — a mere demonic creature — dare take possession of a human body and bewitch people! If you will not submit and be slain, Heaven’s law cannot be fulfilled! Someone — seize her at once! Anyone who obstructs will be cut down without mercy!”