Gong Tinglan’s words fell with the weight of stone on water, each one striking true — carrying both the worry for the clan’s survival, the concern for the coming calamity that threatened all living beings, and an unwavering insistence on the responsibility of the righteous occult path. Word after word landed like a heavy hammer against the Family Head’s heart.

He was indeed old. In so many ways, he could no longer match the daring and boldness of the young.

Looking at Gong Tinglan’s eyes — so like his long-gone mother’s, and yet burning now with a light of unyielding resolve — and recalling the divination he had performed using yarrow augury during his closed-door cultivation, the one that had turned up something so uncanny it left even him with a vague, creeping unease.

The Family Head fell silent, pressing his lips together, a fierce internal war raging within him — the fate of the human race and all living beings, the survival of the clan, the righteous path of the mortal world…

He was the Family Head. Every decision he made had to be weighed with care and gravity.

After a long silence, the Family Head let out a long, deep sigh. The look of shock faded from his face, replaced by grave solemnity. He gazed at Gong Tinglan at length: “You’ve grown steadier. And you have more boldness than your father.”

Gong Tinglan held his gaze without moving.

The Family Head turned and walked toward what appeared to be an ordinary, unassuming wall at the deepest end of the archives tower. He formed a hand seal, sending several streams of spirit light out from his fingertips into the wall. It shimmered with a ripple like water, and slowly slid open on both sides, revealing behind it a stone chamber more secluded still — one blanketed in dust, clearly not visited in a very long time.

“Come in.” The Family Head’s voice held a trace of weariness, and a trace of quiet resolve. “This archives tower is accessible only to the direct lineage, but not everything within it can be examined by all — what you can see here represents only what is known to the outer circle, and is far from the most closely guarded. What you are about to see contains the true, core secret history of the Gong Family through the generations. Only a Family Head may read it. As for the Imperial Preceptor — your father has long harbored doubts of his own.”

Gong Tinglan’s heart gave a sudden lurch. He quickly followed and asked: “Father’s doubts — what are they?”

“He has lived too long.” The Family Head sighed. “This is no longer an age in which one can ascend to immortality. Those of the occult path who cultivate secret arts and techniques — at most, those who achieve it live somewhat longer than most. If one is fortunate enough to enter the Foundation Establishment realm, relying on the spiritual energy as it is today, a lifespan of a hundred and fifty to two hundred years is already the upper limit.”

In eras when spiritual energy was abundant, cultivators who had reached such a realm might push that upper limit to two or three hundred years — but in this present age of thin and sparse spiritual energy, that was simply not possible.

To say nothing of the fact that most people today were of mediocre aptitude and cultivation — even in the generation of the founding patriarchs, hundreds of years past, when there were far more predecessors of deep cultivation, one never heard of any fellow practitioner ascending and becoming a true immortal. All of them had followed the natural course of life and death, sitting in stillness until they passed on.

“…And yet the Imperial Preceptor has exceeded two hundred years. This defies all natural law. And don’t you find it strange? The emperors of the Tantai clan can be described as a revolving door of sovereigns, with an immovable Imperial Preceptor — no matter who sits on the dragon throne, he stands firm at the summit, undying. Your father’s suspicion was that the Tantai clan possessed some method of cultivating longevity unknown to us, or that he had already reached the Golden Core realm and could approach the Returnal Void. Now, based on what you have told me, there may well be more to it… Who dares trespass in our Gong Family compound?!”

The Family Head suddenly let out a sharp, commanding shout, and from his hand flew a fierce and potent soul-binding, evil-suppressing talisman hurled into the empty air.

Gong Tinglan moved swiftly to intercept it: “Father — this is a guest I invited.”

A ripple like water spread open in the air, and Lang Jiuchuan stepped out from the shadow path. The talisman was pinched lightly between her fingertips. She landed on the ground and clasped her hands in a bow: “This junior arrived unannounced and has disturbed the Family Head. Please forgive the intrusion.”

The Family Head stared at Lang Jiuchuan. The pupils of his eyes shook. He immediately turned to Gong Tinglan, fire flashing in his gaze — a look that said, if you don’t give me an explanation, I will incinerate you with my fury.

Gong Tinglan gave a light cough. “Father — this is Daoist Friend Lang. Her given name is Jiuchuan, and her Daoist title is…”

He glanced toward Lang Jiuchuan. He realized he had never actually learned her Daoist title.

“Qingyi.” Lang Jiuchuan stepped forward again and offered a full bow. “This junior, Qingyi, pays her respects to the Gong Family Head.”

The Family Head let out a cold “hmph” and was entirely unmoved. He fixed Gong Tinglan with a frosty stare. “Dingshen — this is the Gong Family’s most restricted ground. You privately invited an outsider here, claiming your authority as young master, without the slightest regard for the Gong Family’s rules?”

Not only was this the archives tower exclusive to the Gong Family’s direct lineage — he had also opened the hidden stone chamber behind the secret door, a place only a Family Head could enter, and the woman was already inside. This rebellious creature — was he trying to defect from the Gong Family entirely?

And you said your heart belongs entirely to the dao with no earthly attachments? You showed no regard at all for Gong Family secrets, letting an outsider see everything. You still call her an outsider?

Gong Tinglan said: “Your son and Daoist Friend Lang have made a blood oath of alliance. Since we share the same goal — for the sake of all living beings, for the righteous path, to demand justice — having her come to discuss matters of importance together is entirely appropriate. Besides, I intended to transmit word to her regardless. Moreover, she was once a disciple of the Imperial Preceptor. There are things she may know that we do not. Family Head, rest easy — Daoist Friend Qingyi is the finest of our generation, of boundless merit, her virtue and renown well established. Your son trusts her character without reservation.”

For the first time in his life, the Family Head had the distinct feeling that his son had been bewitched by some fox spirit from outside.

In the past, what had given him the greatest headache was this heir of his with his rebellious streak — outwardly the very picture of a transcendent immortal, keeping all at arm’s length with a coolness that was entirely a facade. To refuse arranged marriages, he could go so far as to disown kin and raise a blade toward himself. Yet now it appeared that all this time, he simply hadn’t encountered whoever it was who could keep his rebellious streak in check.

He should, by rights, be glad — even if it wasn’t true affection, if even one woman proved to be an exception to him, perhaps his mortal heart might yet be stirred. Yet looking at how “generous” Gong Tinglan was being, the Family Head could not muster a single trace of gladness — only a gnashing, grating resentment.

The bewitching potion — this fool clearly went and poured it out himself and gulped it down voluntarily.

Lang Jiuchuan came forward, first returning the soul-binding evil-suppressing talisman, then producing a small, plain-looking wooden case, which she offered with both hands: “Meeting you for the first time, and having caused such a disturbance — this is an apology gift. As for what this junior sees and hears in this place — should it reach outside ears, may I be struck down by the five thunders.”

She raised two fingers and, without a second word, swore the oath.

The Family Head: “…”

Clean and decisive, no time given for refusal.

Gong Tinglan had by then already opened the little case that Lang Jiuchuan had passed along. “In all honesty, you are considered to be in our Gong Family’s camp. You’re practically one of us. I invited you here — there’s no need to bring any apology gift. This is…”

A fragrance hit them with a force that went straight to the divine soul, causing it to tremble in alertness, as though enveloped in a dense and rich spiritual energy — and mingled within that spiritual energy was an undeniable current of golden, merit-laden votive power.

He looked down. Ten slender sticks of violet-gold incense lay neatly arranged within, carrying a strange and remarkable energy of their own.

“Merit incense. Something this junior made myself — hardly worth mentioning. When cultivating, one may light a single stick. The merit and votive power within can nourish the divine soul, and when used during meditative comprehension, it halves the effort for twice the result.” Lang Jiuchuan said this with complete ease.

She was of the same alliance — she was happy to be generous. And besides, a guest who shows up empty-handed is simply bad manners.

Gong Tinglan’s hand trembled faintly. “You’re far too kind…”

Thwack.

“You’re a sensible girl.” The Family Head snatched the case from his hands in a single motion, snapped it shut, and with a fluid gesture pressed a spirit-locking finger seal onto the latch, then tucked it into his sleeve. His face remained hard and impassive. “Consider your offense of unauthorized entry pardoned. Both of you, come in.”

“Of course. Much obliged.” Lang Jiuchuan swept past Gong Tinglan and followed.

Gong Tinglan: “!”

He looked down at his now-empty hands, a touch aggrieved.

He was slower than the old fox.