The crimson embroidered ball ignited karmic hellfire from within, and the Shihun Fan was consumed by an earth-shattering explosion from the inside.

Crack.

Those standing outside watched in terror, their eyes fixed on the Shihun Fan as it emanated a horrifying aura. They shielded themselves with their spiritual energy, only to witness countless blinding crimson flames suddenly burst forth across the surface of the banner, burning away the karmic sins within. The faces of the vengeful souls twisted and shrieked within the hellfire before dissolving into wisps of dark smoke and fading away.

The sins they had carried for so many years were incinerated and destroyed. Though they dissipated into the heavens and earth, was that not, in its own way, a form of release and purification?

As for the Shihun Fan itself — as the karmic sins dispersed, the banner’s surface began to char and crack like paper set to flame, rapidly blackening, fracturing, then shattering apart. Those once-mysterious and fearsome talismanic inscriptions wailed and collapsed in the firelight, crumbling to ruin. The fragments fell with a rushing sound, turning to ash, swept by the wind into every corner of the Rong Family estate.

Tantai Diji and the rest of her group watched this breathtaking scene, their expressions each telling a different story — though what dominated above all else was shock and disbelief.

To think that such a supremely capable person existed in this world.

The tips of Tantai Diji’s fingers trembled faintly. She thought of something she couldn’t quite name, and her nose stung with the urge to cry.

The Daoist Master of the Eight Directions wore a puzzled expression. So young, and yet possessing such power — even surpassing the Holy Maiden in many respects. Who is this person?

“Pfft!” The Rong Family Patriarch, struck by the shockwave, suddenly spat out several mouthfuls of essence blood. He let out a wretched, agonized howl. His divine soul had already been damaged by backlash before, and now it was being scorched by the hellfire on top of that. The backlash far exceeded anything he could have imagined — especially since he had poured his entire strength into driving that sinister power, holding nothing in reserve, leaving his soul with no protection whatsoever.

Now that the hellfire had erupted, burning away the karmic sins while simultaneously burning the divine soul he shared a bond with through his life-bound magical treasure, the damage was unprecedented and catastrophic.

As the Shihun Fan dissipated, both he and Lang Jiuchuan plummeted from mid-air together. His complexion turned ashen as paper, his breath hanging by a thread.

Lang Jiuchuan was also coughing up fresh blood, yet she struggled to stand. With a flick of her slender hand, she struck the Dizhong, sending out a resonant, hammer-like toll that transformed into a sweeping net spanning heaven and earth. This imprisoned the Rong Family Patriarch within its mesh. Simultaneously, her mind worked rapidly — the thunder serpent inscribed on the bell’s body took on physical form, coiling around the Rong Family Patriarch and cinching tight. The binding force of righteously-aligned lightning energy made it impossible for him to draw even a single breath.

This was a death trap from which there was no escape.

The Rong Family Patriarch lay utterly defeated, the blood at the corner of his mouth an inky black. His eyes burned with fury, resentment, and venom. Who is she? Just who in the world is she?

What manner of person possesses an immortal artifact like the crimson embroidered ball? Just what is she?

But whoever she was — he had lost. Lost completely.

And yet, was he simply to surrender without a fight?

He refused to accept this.

He had spent his entire life scheming tirelessly for the sake of the Rong Family. Was he truly willing to fall in such disgrace — and at the hands of that treacherous son, that treacherous daughter, and this nameless witch?

If he was to die, he would drag everyone here down to hell with him, to serve as his burial companions.

A frenzied hatred of the most extreme kind ignited in the Rong Family Patriarch’s eyes. His lips moved as he compressed the chaotic remnants of energy within his body over and over again, forcing it down toward the depths of his dantian energy sea. A destructive, heart-stopping pulse began radiating outward from within him, and the surrounding space began to warp and collapse.

Tantai Diji’s pupils contracted sharply. “Careful!” she cried out. “He intends to explode his foundation!”

Lang Jiuchuan’s gaze remained ice-cold and composed. With one part of her mind, she used the force of her thunder and lightning to bind him tightly. With another, she summoned her jade bone talisman brush and drew a Taiyin Soul-Slaying Talisman in the air, pressing it hard against the center of his brow.

She had not yet gotten the answers she needed — he could not die yet.

The moment the Soul-Slaying Talisman was applied, the Rong Family Patriarch felt as though his divine soul had been hacked open by a blade in several places. He let out a wretched scream of pain. The energy he had been compressing, just on the verge of reaching its apex, suddenly lurched to a halt. His concentration broke, and that energy unraveled and scattered strand by strand.

This talisman did not destroy the soul outright — but it possessed an absolute power to shock and suppress it, like a dull blade cutting through flesh. It was more torturous than a single decisive strike to the divine soul. As things stood now, the Rong Family Patriarch’s features were contorted, and he was enduring suffering the likes of which he had never known.

But what made it even more agonizing was that his self-detonation had been forcibly interrupted. This was no different from a cultivator reaching a critical breakthrough point, only to have someone barge in and shatter the ascent at the last moment. The backlash from that interruption was no less severe than the backlash from his life-bound treasure being turned against him.

Spit. Spit.

The Rong Family Patriarch sprayed fresh blood repeatedly. The aura around him collapsed like a breached riverbank, flooding out in all directions. The madness faded from his eyes, leaving only boundless suffering and emptiness behind. Like an old dog with only a single breath remaining, he twitched uncontrollably, his throat producing labored, rattling gasps of pain. He no longer possessed even the faintest capacity to resist.

The time had come.

Suppressing the fatigue from her depleted vital energy and the stabbing pain in her divine soul, Lang Jiuchuan hauled the Rong Family Patriarch upright. With a few fluid movements, she vanished from the courtyard.

Wu Youzi drifted along behind her in a daze.

The Daoist Master of the Eight Directions had just made to follow when Tantai Diji spoke: “Senior, do not involve yourself in matters that are not yours to manage. This young woman is no ordinary person.”

The Daoist Master of the Eight Directions surveyed the devastation across the courtyard. The Rong Family’s disciples and members were either wounded or fleeing — to say nothing of the clan members with no cultivation at all. And all of this had been set in motion by the Rong Family’s Fourth Master and the young woman.

Then there were those two companions of hers.

The Daoist Master of the Eight Directions searched for A’Piao and the other one, but found no trace of either. His brow furrowed.

The Rong Family was finished.

Meanwhile, Lang Jiuchuan dragged the Rong Family Patriarch into the restricted grounds, which were equally in ruins. She threw him down, first reaching into her robes to swallow a few medicinal pellets, then turned her gaze to Wu Youzi, who was on the verge of dissolution, and said: “I have a magical artifact you can enter to recuperate.”

Wu Youzi shook his head. “It is of no use. Search his soul quickly — if you wait too long, something may go wrong.”

The Rong Family Patriarch, with barely a breath remaining, raised his head wretchedly upon hearing this. His bloodshot eyes turned toward Wu Youzi, his lips trembling, gaze filled with furious hatred.

Wu Youzi’s expression did not waver. His eyes held only boundless hatred for him.

Lang Jiuchuan watched as Fuqi and the others appeared, with Jiangche standing guard at a vantage point above. She walked at a measured pace toward the Rong Family Patriarch as he lay at death’s door, looking down at this man who had once been insufferably arrogant and lofty, but who was now no better than mud beneath her feet.

The original host’s tragedy — and her own — had all begun with a single swap at birth. So who had orchestrated it all? Was it you, Rong Family Patriarch, or someone else?

The Rong Family Patriarch’s face filled with fear. He tried to concentrate his power for a self-detonation, but his dantian felt as though it had been pulverized — not so much as a thread of spiritual energy could be gathered. He had no strength left even to defend himself.

“Just who are you?” he rasped, his voice hoarse with unwillingness.

Lang Jiuchuan had not intended to answer. But she thought of something, and the corner of her lips curved slightly upward. “I am Lang Jiuchuan — the daughter of the Lang Family you had swapped away all those years ago. And I am also your tribulation.”

The Rong Family Patriarch froze, then his expression shifted to one of profound shock. “Impossible. How could you possibly be in her body—” He snapped his mouth shut abruptly. His eyes flickered rapidly, and he drew a few urgent, gasping breaths before speaking again: “Tell me what you want to know. As long as you spare my life, I will tell you everything!”

Lang Jiuchuan studied him with cool, detached eyes. “There is no need for me to spare you. You will tell me regardless.”

What?

“No — please, no—!” The Rong Family Patriarch’s eyes flew wide with terror. He watched her ice-cold hand press against his spiritual platform — his brow — as vast, surging Dao energy laced with divine consciousness pierced into his soul sea. He stared back at her in silent, helpless despair.