Setting aside the fact that Gong Tinglan and the Young Master of Feng both felt themselves entirely wronged and innocent — they had no knowledge at all of how so many things had suddenly erupted within the imperial family — even the retained elders of the imperial house were somewhat caught off guard.

This had come swiftly and strangely, without any sign or forewarning whatsoever. Or rather — to put it plainly — they had never imagined that anyone would dare to provoke the supreme authority, never imagined that someone would actually move against the imperial family. They could not bring themselves to believe it.

If this had been an ordinary noble household, it might not be so alarming. But the Tantai clan was mystical clan blood, the supreme rulers of the land, who had held the throne for two hundred years. Their vital fortune was greater than any other mystical clan, and their blessings and protective power were naturally considerable.

And yet all of that protection could not keep a single Jing Wang safe from the gnawing poison of resentful spirits, leaving him teetering on the edge of death. Even Elder Ruoxu, who had gone to perform an exorcism, had suffered a backlash from the effort and collapsed unconscious.

Then there was the Golden Hall, built upon the most powerful dragon-vein the palace had to offer, the hall where imperial energy was at its most potent — and even that had manifested an omen. If that was not the failure of fortune and blessings, what was?

What unsettled the retainer elders most was this: even if a heretic evil cultivator were behind all of this, that person had succeeded. They had done this while fearing neither the backlash of true dragon energy nor the punishment of heaven. Could this person truly be a child of heaven’s own creation?

A thought that had long been suppressed began to stir in the hearts of the retainer elders: did all of this mean that the fortune of the Tantai imperial house was beginning to wane?

Indeed — no dynasty endured forever, and no family line continued unbroken across a thousand years. Unity broke apart, and division reunited; power shifted hands as surely as the sun and the moon turned. Change was inevitable, and one day it would come.

Yet none of these thoughts and feelings could be voiced aloud. Still, a ripple had formed in more than one heart.

Elder Zhishang gazed up at the stars overhead, counting the joints of his fingers, and let out a quiet sigh.

A shadow moved across the Purple Tenuity Star. Another star blazed and pulsed with unusual brightness — this was a threat, a challenge. He could not help but think of the calculations he had made: the national fortune was fading. The reckoning had come.

And that blazing star — could it be her? That ninth daughter of the Lang clan, the one the Golden Lotus had appeared to certify?

“I have only just emerged from my seclusion, and now I learn that a fellow practitioner had their eyes gouged out by a hawk. That was truly…”

Elder Zhishang turned his head, smiling with a hint of helpless irony, and looked at Kong Xu Zi — another retainer elder, now standing beside him. “You also participated in that battle against the corpse demon. Did she truly destroy it herself?”

Kong Xu Zi nodded. “I would swear it upon my entire path of cultivation.”

Zhishang was silent for a moment, a note of uncertainty in his voice. “Could my calculations have been mistaken? I believed she would be the one to throw Da Dan into upheaval.”

Kong Xu Zi gave a calm smile. “Let me ask you this: when the Way of Heaven itself is no longer just, does there not always arise a person who comes to correct it? Such a person is born carrying within them the vital fortune of ten thousand things, and they are equally burdened with a mission. Fellow practitioner Zhishang — the path we have held to for so long, perhaps it is time to let it change with the current of things, to return to the original path, and hold steadfast to the heart of the Dao. Perhaps only then will our years of cultivation and practice have not been in vain.”

Zhishang gave a small start. “But if the common people are thrown into turbulence…”

“Then one enters the world to protect them,” Kong Xu Zi replied easily. “That is precisely why we joined the mystical clans in the first place, isn’t it? It has simply strayed from that purpose over time.” He laughed at himself with a touch of bitterness. “But fortunately, it is not yet too late.”

“Fellow practitioner Kong Xu Zi — what is your assessment of the imperial family’s situation? Do you believe she did this?” Zhishang lowered his voice to ask.

Kong Xu Zi shook his head slowly. “I dare not say. If she did not, then it means the imperial family has lost its righteous support, and their fortune is retreating — a warning from heaven itself. If she did — then to have accomplished this while fearing no backlash from the power of the true dragon line shows that her vital fortune surpasses even that of the imperial family. And since she has the Golden Lotus to certify her path, she will never fall to the side of evil. A person of such immense fortune and virtue, whose cultivation and righteousness stand so high — for the Dao community, that is a good thing.”

Zhishang felt a jolt pass through him.

To make the heavens themselves send an omen while fearing no backlash from the fortune of the Tantai imperial house — that required not just power, but also the blessings of fate and destiny.

“Let us go. We eat the Emperor’s grain; we must at least go look at the yin toxin Jing Wang has been struck with.” Kong Xu Zi said this with a note of weary resignation.

Zhishang’s expression shifted to one of undisguised distaste. For the first time in his life, he felt that this identity was a constraint. Eating the Emperor’s grain — it turned his stomach just a little.

Jing Wang’s Estate.

Quite a few Daoists of no small cultivation level had gathered in Jing Wang’s bedchamber, and every one of them looked at the festering, blackened flesh on Jing Wang’s body with varying degrees of alarm. The tissue had deteriorated so rapidly over just a few days — was it not decaying a little too fast?

Gong Tinglan looked specifically at a black talisman seal on Jing Wang’s neck. His heart gave a sharp lurch. Betraying nothing on his face, he blinked once and stepped back two paces.

The Young Master of Feng was working a string of prayer beads carved from lightning-struck wood, rolling them through his fingers. Catching Gong Tinglan’s reaction, his eyes flickered. He silently moved to stand beside him. “What do you see?”

Gong Tinglan shook his head. “He is certainly going to die. There is no saving him.”

The Young Master of Feng raised an eyebrow. “The yin poison of a mere resentful ghost — surely that would not be beyond you, fellow practitioner Dingshen?”

Gong Tinglan crossed his arms. “Nor would it be beyond you, fellow practitioner Qianyu. Why not try your hand at driving it out, and let me witness the power of those Thousand-Wood Prayer Beads of yours?”

The Young Master of Feng said coolly: “If I do nothing, am I supposed to just sit here and take the blame? The Gong family especially — Anhe Di all but had the accusation on the tip of his tongue. Your family draws more suspicion from the imperial house than even the Feng family.”

“When you have enough lice, they stop itching. Let him think what he will. If I drove out the poison, would it prove my innocence? No — the Gong family will remain a thorn in his eye no matter what. One day spent not going along with him is one day spent as the object of his enmity.” Gong Tinglan looked at him with a faint, knowing smile. “It is the Feng family that should think carefully — especially after all of this. Whatever road you intend to walk from here — think it through well.”

The Young Master of Feng’s eyes flickered, and he did not take the bait. To pronounce final judgment on whether the imperial family’s fortune was truly declining at this stage — it was still too early for that.

Gong Tinglan saw him refuse to engage, and laughed with mild contempt. He looked again toward Jing Wang, and the disgust in his eyes was completely unconcealed. The man’s karmic debt of killing was too great, and even the protection of his blood heritage could no longer cover it. Let him die sooner and be reborn sooner — and spare these fellow practitioners the waste of their cultivation and spiritual energy.

The retainer elders of the imperial family had not arrived at any useful conclusion among themselves. They looked toward Gong Tinglan. “Young Master Gong — in your judgment, how might the yin poison afflicting Jing Wang be resolved?”

“There is no need to save him. His allotted years are at an end.”

Everyone blinked. What did that mean?

It was merely the yin poison of resentful spirits. Couldn’t one simply draw it out? How could it mean he would die?

“Young Master Gong, evil heretics run rampant — this act is without question a challenge to all of us who walk the righteous path. To not rid the world of it — would that not run contrary to the very Dao we cultivate? Surely the combined efforts of everyone assembled here could remove mere yin poison?” someone objected.

Gong Tinglan toyed with the embroidered talisman-pattern on his sleeve cuff. “Fellow practitioners are more than welcome to try. Whether you can wrest someone back from the hands of the King of the Underworld — this practitioner’s cultivation is still shallow. I am afraid I am not capable of it.”

The room fell silent.

The Young Master of Feng was also startled. Was he saying that Jing Wang had already been entered into the King of the Underworld’s register?

Gong Tinglan pointed to the right side of Jing Wang’s neck. “He has been marked with the Soul-Locking Curse. In other words, his soul has already been fixed and claimed — he is a person whom the King of the Underworld has designated for collection. This is what is spoken of in legend as the Underworld King’s Mark. Who here can wrest a person away from the King of the Underworld?”

The King of the Underworld would have a person dead by the third watch — and he never left them for the fifth.

Everyone was shaken. The Underworld King’s Mark — did such a thing truly exist?

Among the crowd, someone who had been standing motionless and silent the entire time, her attention fixed steadily on Gong Tinglan, finally could not hold herself back. Ignoring the warning glance of Elder Liu beside her, Rong Huanxuan opened her mouth and said: “Then why not summon the future consort of Jing Wang? She has the Golden Lotus to certify her path, and the purest of righteous energies. Jing Wang is her betrothed husband. Does she dare or not dare to wrest him back from the King of the Underworld?”