The Prince of Jing was dead. The betrothal decree was void. But in its place came a barrage of stern admonishments. Lang Zhengping knelt and listened to the full message the head eunuch delivered on the Emperor’s behalf, and felt somewhat numb.

How much time had even passed? The betrothal edict had arrived—and now it had been rescinded. Less than a month, and it had played out like a game.

As for the reprimanding words of the head eunuch, he made a show of listening while inwardly hearing nothing but noise. The point was: Ninth Sister no longer had to marry that ominous wretch the Prince of Jing. As for the reputation of bringing ruin to husbands—well, if that’s the way it was, so be it. As long as she was happy.

“Marquis, you would do well to keep a close watch over your household—especially Lang Cailing. Send her to Canglang Monastery for cultivation soon, lest it bring trouble upon the family.” The head eunuch spoke with a tone dripping with insinuation.

Lang Zhengping kept a smile on his face. “The Gonggong speaks truly. It’s just that this year the stars have not been favorable—we’ve been at home in proper mourning, keeping to ourselves—and yet troubles keep rolling in one after another. Can you believe it? What a headache!” He sighed dramatically.

The head eunuch’s eyelid twitched. He is definitely mocking His Majesty. He had just opened his mouth to fire back a retort when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a young woman walking slowly toward them with a white cat in her arms.

Who else could it be but Lang Jiuchuan herself—that star of calamity who had swallowed a bear’s heart and a leopard’s gall?

The head eunuch hurriedly shut his mouth. The oral decree had been delivered—the sooner he made himself scarce, the better. He did not even collect the customary red envelope that the steward’s staff had ready as a tip, for fear it would turn out to be payment for his own life.

This Marquis’s residence is cursed. I never want to come back. Next time, I’ll send my surrogate son instead.

Lang Zhengping saw Lang Jiuchuan return and walked over to her in delight. “Ninth Sister, has this betrothal decree truly been rescinded?”

“Yes. But don’t be too quick to celebrate—have someone ask my mother to come speak in the study.”

Lang Zhengping caught the gravity in her expression and felt his heart sink.

Cui Shi was summoned to the main study at the front courtyard. She looked first at Lang Jiuchuan, then at the creature in her hands.

Was that… a tiger cub?

But the thought was quickly swept aside by what Lang Jiuchuan said next, and her brow knitted together.

Lang Zhengping spoke. “So in other words—you strong-armed His Majesty himself to get this betrothal rescinded?”

“One could say that.” Lang Jiuchuan spoke plainly. “The so-called betrothal was nothing but a humiliation. My troubles run far deeper than that. By fighting back so openly now, I’ve dragged the Lang Family into it. Even so—he fears my methods and won’t do anything openly. Killing off the family and seizing its assets won’t happen anytime soon. At most, he’ll ensure that no one from the Lang Family rises to prominence, and push the family further from the centers of power.”

“His Majesty still cares about face,” Lang Zhengping nodded. “As for not being able to rise—that matters little. Honestly, those brothers of yours are no great talents anyway. Pushing for prominence would only invite disaster upon the clan. Better to keep a low profile for now. So—continue to stay home and observe mourning and study it is.”

Lang Caizeng, who had been sitting to one side attempting to make himself invisible: …

He had been called to listen in because Lang Zhengping felt that, as the next-generation family head, he could not remain ignorant of these matters.

But Lang Jiuchuan shook her head. “When the threat to his position is genuine, he won’t care about face—he’ll only think of eliminating the threat. As it stands now, the strength I’ve demonstrated makes him wary. And he has used the Lang Family as a check against me. He and I—the imperial clan and I—are at a mutual impasse, each holding the other at bay.”

Given the methods she had displayed in the palace, even if it would stir murderous intent in An He Emperor, it would also fill him with wariness—because her stance was resolute enough, and her strength spoke for itself.

If he truly dared to act, she would go absolutely mad.

Those with nothing to lose, compared to those with everything gripped in their hands—naturally the latter feared losing it more.

Cui Shi asked, “How did things come to this point?”

Lang Jiuchuan looked at her, her gaze complex, her words measured and indirect: “The moment I returned to the Lang Family, the karmic debt came into existence.”

More precisely—who she was, and who she would become: from the moment she had awakened in this body, all grievances, entanglements, and karmic bonds had already been set. Everything—whether it belonged to the original occupant of this body, or to herself—was inextricably bound up with the great clans.

“Can’t the Cui Family be of any use? What about the favorable connections you’ve cultivated before?”

Lang Jiuchuan shook her head. “Ordinary powerful families are still at a disadvantage when pitted against a great clan with cultivators. Right now, the imperial family is also trying to weaken the strength of the Gong and Feng clans and the like—to have everything under their control.”

A moment of silence fell over everyone.

None of them were foolish. Those long in power were always most wary of subordinates who grew too large to control, and feared influential ministers with too much sway—and so they would do whatever they could to weaken those who threatened them, keeping all power firmly in their own grip.

The Tantai clan was both the imperial family and a great cultivator clan—but in the Daoist arts, it could not match the Gong Family, whose strength had been steadily growing. Of course it would be afraid.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at everyone gathered there. “Kaiping Marquis Manor is nothing more than an aristocratic house. You need not think too deeply about the affairs of the cultivator clans—nor trouble yourselves over them. I’m laying this all out before you simply so you understand the state of things. Go on living as you normally would. The rest is not your concern—I will handle it myself.”

Hearing this, the rest of them felt all the more unsettled.

Lang Caizeng said, “Ninth Sister, you are only one person. How can we rest easy hiding behind your back?”

“What could you do?” Lang Jiuchuan shot back.

Lang Caizeng lowered his head in shame. After a long pause, he managed to force out: “Do you think I have any affinity for the Dao? Would it be too late to start learning now?”

Lang Jiuchuan: …

Even she was rendered speechless for once.

Jiangche let out a series of strange, snickering sounds.

“Doing nothing and not causing trouble is already a help to me. But don’t be timid either—just live your lives as normal.” Lang Jiuchuan looked at Lang Zhengping. “Once Lang Cailing and the others are out of mourning, arrange for them to marry far away—find families with upright household conduct.”

If something truly came down on them, she would save as many as she could.

The others exchanged glances, their hearts filled with something they could not quite name. She was taking precautions, preparing for a time when she could not protect them all.

“There is no need for despair—we won’t be living under someone else’s thumb forever.” Lang Jiuchuan said quietly. “No imperial authority lasts unchanged forever.”

Everyone caught their breath sharply. Was—was this talk of rebellion?

Cui Shi’s face had gone white. “Do you intend to challenge imperial authority by yourself, alone?”

“They were the ones who forced me into this battle circle.” Lang Jiuchuan looked back at her and said, “I only want to live.”

Only want to live.

Four calm, plain words—and yet they carried the weight of a thousand catties, like a great hammer falling onto the hearts of those present. Heavy beyond measure.

When had a noblewoman’s one wish been simply to live?

And those words—how could they not carry with them a note of helplessness? The helplessness of being pressed upon by titanic forces like the imperial clan and the great cultivator families, and being left with no choice but to resist.

Even if you did not seek to fight, others would force the fight upon you—because your strength, your very existence, was itself a form of silent rivalry.

Cui Shi looked at Lang Jiuchuan, who sat in perfect composure as though discussing idle household matters. Her heart constricted sharply, as though seized by something invisible, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

A young woman raised on a rural estate—why had she come to possess such abilities? And how had she ended up drawing the enmity of great cultivator clans and the imperial family alike? What had happened, and what was the true nature of it all? She did not dare think it through carefully. She did not dare try to pry into it.

And Lang Zhengping sat there with his eyes unfocused, his mind a tangled mess of knotted thread. What to do. This great-niece of mine wants to rebel. No army, no wealth, no talent or manpower—how is this to be done? What can I even do? I am utterly hopeless.