As night fell, Lang Jiuchuan stood at the edge of the Qiong River. Though a bright, full moon hung high in the sky, the stretch of river before her was as black as a fathomless abyss. A rank, fetid dampness carried on the air, and everywhere was steeped in an ominous foreboding.

Yice stood beside her, giving her a detailed account of the Water Imp’s nature. “It was born of the water — the river is its territory. Who knows how many years it has been cultivating. And being constantly submerged, feeding on the vital essences of rotting corpses and human lives, its malevolent Yin energy runs bone-deep. Even the corpses have begun producing corpse poison from the accumulated filth. Be vigilant about everything.”

Lang Jiuchuan glanced over at him. “Are you of pure Yang constitution?”

Yice paused slightly, then nodded. “I was born on the ninth day of the ninth month.”

“No wonder you could make it back to shore even after being infected with corpse poison. You have the natural protection of pure Yang energy — it slowed the spread of the Yin-tainted corpse poison.” Lang Jiuchuan smiled gently. “Pure Yang constitution — a cultivator blessed by heaven itself. Your master must have been very pleased with you.”

Yice thought of the past and scratched the back of his head. “The old man always said I was slow-witted. Little does he know — now that I would dearly love to hear him call me slow-witted once more, I cannot.”

“You cultivate, you walk the Dao. When you reach enlightenment, you will have your chance to avenge the annihilation of your sect and the theft of your treasures.”

“Like you?” Yice looked at her sideways. “You want to leave the Rong Family without a single piece of armor intact?”

Lang Jiuchuan rolled her eyes. “Does killing not take effort? I’m not the sort to kill recklessly. I only kill those who are truly my enemies. Even if they bear the Rong Family name — those who have no quarrel with me, I will not pursue to the last.”

“If you leave a green hill standing, you’re not afraid they’ll come back stronger — or even seek revenge and try to kill you?”

Lang Jiuchuan shook her head. “If they’re not afraid to die, let them come.”

She had her own path to walk.

Yice said nothing more, and the two of them stood together in silence, watching the river’s surface — calm in appearance, yet seething with hidden currents beneath.

Suddenly, an enormous dark shadow flashed by beneath the water. Both of them tensed.

Lang Jiuchuan kept her eyes fixed on the river. “The hour of Zi approaches. A hard fight is coming — be careful.”

Along the riverbank, eight bonfires built from peach wood had been lit in the eight positions of the trigrams. Lang Jiuchuan used ritual yellow paper inscribed with talismanic characters and five-emperor coins to set the formation’s anchors, and selected eight cultivators by zodiac sign to hold the formation’s positions. But in place of Yice, she exchanged him out and positioned him at the formation’s eye as a central anchor.

“You have a pure Yang constitution, and the Star of the General shines in your life palace — you can anchor the formation’s eye. Even so, be careful of everything.” Lang Jiuchuan quietly slipped a life-saving talisman into his hand.

Yice accepted it knowingly and pressed it against his chest.

Gong Qi caught a glimpse of this and cast Lang Jiuchuan a long, melancholy sidelong look. Playing favorites.

Lang Jiuchuan ignored his gaze. “Don’t lose focus.”

The Gong Family was a Xuan Clan ranked second among their generation, with foundations that likely ran even deeper than the Rong Family. Gong Qi was a standout among his generation within the Surveillance Division, and a thorn in many sides. She didn’t believe the Young Master of the Gong Family would have sent him out without some trump card or protective treasure on his person. No need to offer her own and invite ridicule.

At the hour of Zi, the bright moon slipped behind clouds of darkness.

Lang Jiuchuan’s entire bearing transformed. Holding the copper-coin sword she had received from Tongtian Pavilion, she gave her wrist a firm shake. The blade trembled, and she began to walk the ritual steps before the formation, her lips moving softly in incantation: “Heaven and earth as nature’s own, all impurities scattered and gone, the eight divine generals, each following their natural station…”

Her movements were fluid and precise, the copper-coin sword seeming to merge with her very intent. A stream of resolute energy circled about her in continuous flow, and in the light of the bonfires, her face — already striking in its clarity — became all the more composed and solemn.

Then, with a sharp strike of her hand against the blade, eighty-one yellow-paper talismans inscribed in cinnabar stirred without wind and began to spin in the air, floating above the river’s surface as though an invisible boundary had been drawn to seal it.

Every person present held their breath.

Suddenly, the river began to heave and churn like boiling water, and a massive whirlpool formed at the center of the current. Before anyone could cry out, from within the whirlpool, a mass of dark, sinister black mist slowly rose — something that was neither human nor fish, a creature with two heads and scaled, clawed limbs.

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes sharpened. “It’s here!”

The sword techniques in her hand shifted, the ritual steps quickened to a blur, and she began to chant the Eight Trigrams incantation aloud: “Heaven in three connected lines, earth in six broken lines, thunder the upturned bowl, mountain the overturned cup… Formation, arise!”

The final step landed hard. The ground shuddered, and a deep resonant hum rose up. The eight peach-wood bonfires erupted simultaneously, blazing high. Within the inferno, a great translucent phantom of the Eight Trigrams materialized in the night sky.

The black mist seemed startled. Its crimson eyes fixed upon the assembled crowd.

Gong Qi wielded his Three-Five Sword, his gaze blazing like twin torches. His intent stirred, and the blade flared with a faint, spectral blue glow — a flash of light — and when the black mist lunged violently toward the bank, he touched his toes to the ground, vaulted into the air, and cried out the incantation in rapid succession: “Heaven and earth of the dark lineage, ten thousand energies of the root source… Dispel!”

A dazzling golden light shot from the blade, streaking directly into the mass of black mist.

The black mist screamed — a piercing, grating shriek — as the golden light struck it. The haze scattered and parted, revealing its true form: twin heads with blue-grey faces and protruding fangs, the entire body wrapped in river weeds. No — those were not river weeds. They were Yin-tainted black filth mixed with writhing corpse worms, crawling over the surface of the rotting corpse body.

Everyone’s scalps prickled, and instinctively, each channeled their righteous energy to shield themselves.

Corpse worms were creatures of Yin-tainted evil as well. To be bitten, or to have one enter the body, would be deeply problematic.

Lang Jiuchuan’s expression was cold and grave. The Water Imp had drawn upon the resentment of those who had died unjustly, attaching itself to the rotting corpse and using it to assume a physical form — a monstrous hybrid that was neither human nor fish. If it truly completed the Ten Thousand Souls Malevolence, every living thing within hundreds of li of the waterway would perish, and all creatures would be left without a home.

The Water Imp surveyed the people on the bank and let out a strange, warped laugh. The river surface surged abruptly, sending black waves dozens of feet high crashing toward Lang Jiuchuan and the others.

Lang Jiuchuan’s pupils contracted sharply. Her fingers flew into a Daoist seal: “Wind and fire, thunder and lightning — all evil obstacles, severed and destroyed. The Celestial Master descends — banish the wicked, obliterate their form. Dispel!”

The copper-coin sword flew from her hand, transforming into a streak of light that cleaved through the black tide as it bore down like a vast curtain of darkness.

Crash.

The black surge fell from the sky, water flooding across the bank, nearly smothering all eight bonfires.

The Water Imp seemed enraged by Lang Jiuchuan. Its form flickered, and it split into three phantoms, rushing at her from three directions.

This one is a mortal threat. Kill her — swallow her soul — and its power would surge immeasurably.

“Watch out!” Both Gong Qi and Yice shouted at the same moment. Each thrust their sword at one of the phantoms simultaneously.

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes went deep and still. The Dizhong Bell was in her hand — she could not have said exactly when she had drawn it. Her spirit and intent flowed into the bell’s body, and she gave it a single, measured strike.

Dong.

A deep, resonant bell tone sent out a wave of sound like a line of righteous energy, striking the third phantom that had surged directly toward her and cleaving one of its two monstrous heads clean off.

The Water Imp let out a piercing, agonized wail. The remaining head, those walnut-sized eyes flooding red, fixed on Lang Jiuchuan with a light that hungered for blood.

Lang Jiuchuan struck the Dizhong Bell again. The thunder-patterns carved on its body stirred like a serpent coming to life. The Water Imp at last sensed threat and fear, and without lingering to press the fight, it vanished in a swirl of black smoke and retreated into the depths.

Righteous thunder-energy chased it into the water — a tremendous boom. The river was blasted dozens of feet into the air, and the dark shadow beneath scattered in all directions. A black mist surged up from the river’s surface, dead and suffocating, as though the River of Forgetfulness had been made manifest — but pressed down by the Eight Trigrams Demon-Subduing Formation, the mist did not spill beyond the boundaries.

Lang Jiuchuan’s heart sank faintly. The ghost realm of the River of Forgetfulness has opened. It had truly grown into something formidable.

“Gong Qi…” She looked toward Gong Qi. Their eyes met. He gave a grave nod.

Use a corpse as bait — lure it into the trap.

Lang Jiuchuan turned her gaze back to the surface of the water, her fingertips tapping softly against the Dizhong Bell. And in the depths of the night, a pair of eyes watched her every move from the shadows, unseen.