A lifetime of scheming — ruined in an instant.

The Rong Family Head’s savage aura, suppressed to the point of distorting his features by his extreme fury, released outward as Pressure Aura, causing the faces of a great number of guests — particularly those of lower cultivation — to turn white. Many struggled to breathe, stumbling backward.

“Family Head!” The clan elders saw him and felt as though they had found their anchor. Unable to hold back their tears any longer, they wept and cried out: “Qingcang has gone utterly mad — like a demon. Please, Family Head, purge the household.”

Some clan members said nothing. Their eyes held only hesitation. They were merely members of the Rong Family — privy to all its secrets they were not. The scandals that Rong Qingcang had just exposed were quite enough to shake their faith in both the clan and the Family Head.

Was this truly the family they had been so proud of? It felt somewhat… ironic, did it not?

But they were people of little standing and little voice. They did not dare speak.

The Rong Family Head’s crimson eyes carved a vicious path over the elders, filled with accusation and fury. When he saw the furtive shifting of their gazes, his anger deepened further. Useless, every last one of them. They had enjoyed every benefit the clan provided, lived as parasites for years, and yet could not even keep such a situation under control.

Furious as he was, he was also deeply alarmed by his unfilial son, who had not stopped staring at him. How much of his strength had the man recovered? Enough that the clan could not contain him?

The Rong Family Head drew a deep breath. Though his instinct was to personally finish off both the unfilial son and that demon woman in an instant, he understood clearly what mattered most right now. His reputation was destroyed — but it could still be repaired. The road would be long and grueling, but so long as the clan survived, anything remained possible.

So the most pressing matter now was the clan’s survival.

He suppressed the metallic sweetness rising endlessly in his throat, forced himself to endure the pain of both his spirit’s backlash and the agony that came from the fury coursing through him, and spoke in a voice cold as steel, one that carried across the entire square: “The misfortune of our household — Rong Qingcang’s cultivation has lain dormant for over a decade, and his mind has long since broken. All that he has spoken is the raving of a madman, malicious slander and nothing more. The words of Zhengyang Zi, a traitor to the orthodox path, are equally unworthy of trust. Most importantly of all — what you have witnessed today is a vicious scheme hatched between this demon woman Lang Jiuchuan and my unfilial son, designed to seize the Rong Family’s centuries-old foundation.”

The crowd erupted in startled gasps. Every head turned sharply toward Lang Jiuchuan, whose expression remained calm and untroubled.

A’Piao’s face darkened like a thundercloud. “A dog truly cannot stop itself from eating filth. He really does know how to invert right and wrong.”

Fuqi folded his arms and said mildly, “Worthy of his reputation as a formidable power among the mystic lineage. Even now, he can suppress his own rage and attempt to turn the tide.”

“After all, strength determines who commands,” Lang Jiuchuan said with a faint smile. “With enough strength, even truth can be made into falsehood. But whether he possesses that strength — that is another question entirely. These are only the thrashings of a dying man.”

She raised her head and clapped her hands lightly together. “The Rong Family Head is worthy of his title — faced with ironclad evidence, he still refuses to soften his stance. I am most impressed. You regard me as your enemy; that is my honor. But before all else, perhaps you might consider: are the cultivators gathered here fools?”

The assembled guests: “…”

What she meant, of course, was that believing him would make them fools.

The Rong Family Head had no desire to trade verbal barbs with her. He turned to face the crowd and said, “Fellow cultivators, this is a matter of our household’s internal affairs. I must cleanse the clan. Please withdraw from Rong territory immediately so that you are not caught in the crossfire. Once this matter is resolved, I will give you all a full accounting.”

But his words had lost the authority they once commanded. The guests below exchanged uncertain glances. Most did not move. The majority chose to wait and watch, many quietly raising their guard — for the Rong Family Head’s savage aura was deeply unsettling.

Furthermore, Rong Qingcang was still a son of the Rong Family. As a man, would he truly make such claims if there were no truth to them? Zhengyang Zi’s words had been logical, well-supported, and traceable — they were not baseless rumors. Whether the Rong Family was in league with demonic forces — had not the corrupt miasma from the forbidden grounds just now already answered that question?

Others looked toward the Holy Maiden. She too showed no intention of leaving, seated in perfect stillness, surveying everything as though in quiet judgment.

Seeing that the crowd would not disperse, the Rong Family Head’s expression darkened. “If you will not leave, then do not blame the Rong Family for any injuries you sustain. Men — form the array! Seize the traitor Rong Qingcang and that demon woman Lang Jiuchuan!”

Wu Youzi burst into wild laughter. “An accounting?! Rong Yiming, your filthy deeds are known to heaven and earth, to you and to me and to all the world. You are the Rong Family’s sinner. You have brought shame upon your ancestors for generations. You created the ruin that the Rong Family faces today. For your crimes, ten thousand deaths would not be enough! Fellow cultivators — you have all honored us with your presence today. The performance is over. Forgive me for being a poor host. I offer my apologies — please, see yourselves out. There is no need to linger.”

He was going to shut the gates and deal with the dog inside.

The assembled guests wore expressions of profound complexity. So they had come all this way just to witness the Rong Family’s ultimate downfall, and were now leaving full?

They gazed at the billowing miasma, the shattered formation, and the Rong Family members — ashen-faced, stumbling in panic — shook their heads with expressions of contempt and turned to leave.

Rise and fall: watch his tower built high, watch his tower come crashing down. The Rong Family was simply one among many powerful clans throughout history that had blazed brightly and then collapsed. That was the nature of power.

Were not the mystic lineage clans still a part of the orthodox cultivating world? The same principle applied to them. Nothing lasted forever. Even in the age of immortal cultivation, great powers fell — let alone a family that merely practiced cultivating arts.

The Rong Family was about to meet a great catastrophe.

Tantai Di Ji instinctively glanced over at Lang Jiuchuan. The other woman was watching the Rong Family Head, who stood rigid and suppressed — expression tranquil, but with a faint trace of something like amusement curving her lips that made the heart lurch.

Lang Jiuchuan turned her head idly and gave Tantai Di Ji a small smile.

Tantai Di Ji looked away. She rose and descended the steps. The elder named Bafang Daochang at her side, however, made his way toward Wu Youzi and said, “Fellow cultivator Wu Youzi, the Great Dao lies ahead, and the lives of all beings weigh heavy. Do not allow a moment’s anger to burden you with more than you can bear.”

Wu Youzi sneered. “Wait until your wife and children have been brutalized and killed — then come back and say that to me. Then again, with eyes as blind as yours, I doubt you’ve ever had a wife or children.” He paused, then pointed directly at the Rong Family Head. “Besides, the one who most deserves your counsel is standing right there. Why not walk over and suggest he slit his own throat in atonement, or surrender himself?”

“Insolence!” Bafang Daochang was so incensed that even his eyebrows seemed to stand on end. He raised his Dou Fang Qiankun Chi and was about to strike.

Tantai Di Ji said coolly, “Elder. Let us go.”

Bafang Daochang’s brow creased with reluctance. He walked over and said in a low voice, “Holy Maiden, Wu Youzi is stirring chaos within the mystic lineage.”

Tantai Di Ji glanced briefly at Wu Youzi — at the undeniable grief and desolation radiating from his entire being — then at the Rong Family Head, whose eyes were filled with nothing but killing intent. She lowered her eyelids, concealing the coldness within them, and said, “The Daoist texts say: do not lightly insert yourself into another’s web of cause and effect, lest you be forced to bear their fate. This is his own cause and effect. His own path. Why should we thrust ourselves into it?”

Before Bafang Daochang could respond, she added quietly, “Moreover, this is a matter internal to their clan. To interfere in another family’s affairs would be overstepping.”

The mystic lineage clans had their own dignity and their own taboos. To press too hard, too forcefully — it would drive people to rebellion and madness.

Even a cornered rabbit will bite.

She walked forward. As she passed by Lang Jiuchuan, her steps slowed almost imperceptibly. She turned to look at her, a flicker of probing curiosity entering her eyes. “Who are you, exactly?”

Lang Jiuchuan did not reply. Her pupils contracted sharply. In a single movement, she swept aside and unleashed a bolt of pure lightning from her palm, sending it thundering straight into the massive palm strike that had condensed a terrifying power.

…