Tongtian Tower.

A’Piao carried Lang Jiuchuan into the side chamber with the vermilion door. They had barely set her down when the empty space of the room warped soundlessly without warning. A ripple passed through the air like the surface of water, and the form of the Ghost General materialized. His gaze fell on Lang Jiuchuan, and his brow furrowed.

Fuqi’s entire spirit body tensed. He watched the Ghost General with a guarded look in his eyes. There is something of the same nature on this man that I can sense in myself. He is dangerous — and powerful.

And behind him, an unfathomably deep black void of unknown destination — a cold, mysterious, and profound chill flowed out from within it.

The Ghost General glanced at Lang Jiuchuan only once, then respectfully stepped aside. A figure in a black robe appeared without the slightest sound. His jet-black hair was loosely gathered and draped behind him, tied with a length of gold-embroidered black satin. His features were slightly indistinct, yet the aura about him was one of absolute void and primordial chaos — enough to make one’s hair stand on end.

This person was far more terrifying than the Ghost General.

Fuqi instinctively bowed his head.

“Master.” A’Piao saw Feng Ya and immediately saluted him, his voice anxious. “Little Jiu’s divine soul has almost certainly sustained severe damage. Though this bone bell has been protecting her with its spiritual energy, her consciousness…”

He cast a worried glance toward Lang Jiuchuan. In all his time knowing her, this was the most grievous she had ever been injured — more severe than any time before. He had a strange feeling, as though this time she might actually fade away for good.

This sharp-tongued woman — surely she wouldn’t really just disappear like this?

Feng Ya said nothing. His pair of eyes, deep as the black void behind him, settled on Lang Jiuchuan. He stepped forward and examined her, then said: “The divine soul that had been carefully nurtured back to wholeness — shattered again, mostly gone. What a stubborn woman. Typical of you — fighting to your last breath and still not forgetting to deal a blow to your enemy at the very end.”

A’Piao watched him out of the corner of his eye, catching the tone of those words. There’s genuine resentment there. What exactly is the relationship between these two? How has he never known about it until now?

Feng Ya raised his hand, and a seven-colored lotus lamp appeared in his palm. Within the lamp, a small cluster of light circled and drifted. Inside the light cluster was a tiny ethereal shadow, curled up tight with eyes peacefully closed.

He reached in and drew the small cluster of light out, cradling it in his palm. The moment he held it, both A’Piao and Fuqi’s eyes went wide.

That is… Lang Jiuchuan.

Although the appearance was not entirely identical, somehow, in a way that defied explanation, one needed only a single glance to know with certainty that it was her.

So the one soul and two ethereal spirits that Lang Jiuchuan had lost — they had been nurtured all along in the Master’s care?

A’Piao felt as though he had caught the scent of something scandalous — oh, gossip of the most delicious kind.

Jiangche peeked in from the doorway, his heart in upheaval. This woman — what in the world had she done in her past life? And how did her soul end up with Feng Ya?

“You have waited long,” Feng Ya said, his voice low and calm. “The time has come.”

As his words fell, he flicked his finger, and the one soul and two ethereal spirits drifted lightly through the air. Like birds returning to their forest at dusk, they entered Lang Jiuchuan’s brow without the slightest resistance and moved toward the two souls and five spirits within her that were on the verge of dissolution, beginning to merge.

The wandering soul and spirits had returned to their place.

A faint golden spiritual energy appeared over Lang Jiuchuan’s body, then sank into her five senses. With the pure soul energy and strength contained within that returning one soul and two spirits, her divine soul — which had been shattered and on the verge of complete dissolution — was like parched earth receiving gentle rain at last. It began to drink greedily of this energy and strength, bit by bit fusing and repairing itself.

When the soul and spirits had fully merged, her divine soul finally ceased its dissolution. Her breathing became steady and even. Her complexion, which had been the gray of ash, now held the faintest, most fragile trace of life.

Lang Jiuchuan’s life had been preserved for the time being — yet she had not awakened. Or more precisely: the soul and spirits had returned and were temporarily stabilized, but to fully regain consciousness and recover was a matter of the far-distant future. She required a vast and pure primordial spiritual energy to nurture and repair her from within, until she could pass through the fire and emerge renewed.

This was the greatest ordeal she had faced since her rebirth.

If she could overcome it, she would emerge transformed and flourish. If she could not, she would perish — body and soul extinguished, with no second stroke of fortune to save her again.

Feng Ya lowered his gaze, concealing the faint, nearly imperceptible edge of ruthlessness that briefly crossed the depths of his eyes, then let it return to stillness.

He bent down and gathered Lang Jiuchuan into his arms. He stepped into the unfathomably deep black void, and in an instant, vanished.

Fuqi and Jiangche moved to follow, but were blocked by the Ghost General, who said with quiet indifference: “Cultivate on your own. Wait for her.”

Though both felt reluctant, each quietly probed the Ghost General’s power and found themselves outmatched. With no other recourse, they resigned themselves, consoling themselves with the thought that at least the man would not harm her.

And Feng Ya carried Lang Jiuchuan through the black void and emerged into the depths of an extremely secluded mountain range. Passing through a waterfall, he arrived at a cavern-like hollow in the earth, where stalactites rose like a forest all around them. At the center of a still pool was a semi-circular hollow in the rock, and around it flowed a current of air suffused with golden luminescence.

That current rolled like a surging river, issuing a deep and resonant hum of authority. What it contained was a sweeping, pure, and supremely positive dragon vein energy.

This was the heart of the great Daan dynasty’s dragon veins — the most abundant confluence of spiritual energy in all the land. Even a Daoist cultivator of the outside world who had already achieved Foundation Establishment would have no way of sensing this place.

Feng Ya set Lang Jiuchuan down. Regarding the dragon energy, his whole body’s aura of the Nine Nether depths was entirely incompatible with it — it even seemed to repel him, as though pushing him out of this pocket of the world.

He gave a cold snort. With a flick of his sleeve, he produced a spirit tablet and embedded it into the wall above the stalactites. A resonant hum sounded, and the entire space was sealed off.

Though the outside world could not perceive this place, it was better to be safe and seal away her aura too. Besides, he could not intervene in the matters of this space — she would have to depend on herself.

With her aura sealed away, when the dragon vein energy came into contact with Lang Jiuchuan’s body, it paused for just a moment — then poured forth eagerly through the barrier in threads and strands, wrapping her in layer upon layer of golden luminescence.

Visibly and swiftly, Lang Jiuchuan’s complexion began to flush with color. Her divine soul, nourished by this surging energy, accelerated in its healing and consolidation. And the bone bell at her waist remained suspended above her spiritual platform all the while, channeling an unceasing flow of spiritual energy into her.

Feng Ya stood with his hands clasped behind him, watching in silence. His black robes billowed in the air currents. After a long while, he let out a cold breath and said: “If you were awake, knowing your temperament, you would never consent to drawing upon this vein’s power as those heretics do to serve yourself. When you see the people of Daan suffering, you hold back. If you were willing to take what is yours, how could you have been reduced to such a state today?”

The icy sarcasm sharpened in his voice: “Your generosity and compassion — and yet there are those who count on precisely that mercy to feed you alive to their aims, blade by blade. Tch.”

There has never been another fool like you in this world.

As he continued speaking, he seemed to grow irritated. “What should rightfully belong to you is no theft at all — it is merely returning something to its rightful owner. This is cause and consequence. Whether you wish to receive it or not, you must receive it.”

He looked at her peaceful, unconscious face, serene and oblivious to everything. Feng Ya let out a long sigh. “Entangled fate — this is as far as I can help you.”

He turned and swept away.

At that very same moment, in the Imperial Palace’s Celestial Observatory, the Director of the Bureau of Astronomy was watching the star of the Purple Tenuity suddenly dim, and his pupils contracted sharply. This — what does this mean?

The Emperor’s Star grows dim — was the heavens about to change?

And that man who had been in his Daoist cave running the Great Heavenly Circuit to restore his damaged vital energy — he suddenly went chalk-white, his heart seizing with a jolt, as though something was departing from his divine soul.

He rose abruptly, walked out of the cave, and looking up to see the Emperor’s Star had dimmed, broke into a low, unhurried laugh of uncertain meaning: “Ha — is it truly you? And how very… disobedient you are.”