The formula for curing the corpse poison had been found — but its primary ingredient was the Ghost Orchid, a flower that grew mainly in extremely yin places like burial grounds, rarely seen in the world above. So even with the antidote formula in hand, the scarcity of the primary ingredient meant supply was critically constrained. This was especially true once they learned that corpse plague had broken out across multiple counties, prefectures, villages, and towns — the antidote became even more precious.

There was another complication: the water used to prepare the Ghost Orchid had been refined by the water spirit, and the decoction had been catalyzed with Supreme Yin Profound Darkness True Qi. Considering that one person could not be everywhere at once, and that she could not possibly take the water spirit traveling across all of Dapan, even if she could — she would not be able to save all of Dapan from its crisis in one go.

To make the antidote accessible to ordinary people without requiring Daoist techniques to catalyze its effects, Lang Jiuchuan had no choice but to continue refining the formula.

The refinements: use naturally collected rainwater for brewing, soak the Ghost Orchid in ancient well spring water, and for the catalyzing step — simply extend the simmering time. Most critically, the Righteous Yang Miasma-Dispelling Talismans could be added directly into the decoction, which would also serve as a valid antidote. The effect would certainly not match water refined by the water spirit — far richer in spiritual essence — yet even with only the barest spark of vital life force present, it was infinitely better than nothing. After all, she was only one person and could not be in all places at once — if she was not there in time, people would already have reanimated as corpse demons.

Lang Jiuchuan forwarded the antidote formula to Gong Si. Now with two formulas in hand, the massive quantities of medicinal ingredients required would depend entirely on court coordination and the charitable contributions of compassionate individuals.

But even with the antidote formula available, treatment was falling far behind the rate of spread. Especially for those living dead whose organs had already been corroded — even after drinking the decoction, most could not survive more than three days. At least they would not reanimate as corpse demons. The heads still had to be severed and the bodies burned all the same.

Dapan was plunged into a catastrophe without precedent.

The new year came without ceremony, passing in silence and under a low, oppressive weight. The new Emperor did not even hold the customary ancestral temple rites. He chose the reign name Jian’an and applied himself diligently to governance every single day — yet even so, he heard nothing but worsening news about the corpse plague. The plague was spreading from person to person, and the people were filled with grievances — cursing the heavens, cursing the earth, and cursing the Emperor himself. Public confidence in Dapan had eroded considerably.

Before natural disaster, all are mere insects.

But even insects have their hierarchies and distinctions. The noble families and the privileged always had more resources to protect themselves than the common folk below — securing talismans and formulas for themselves, whether for the antidote or for protection against the plague, they could prepare their own. Households with good deeds to their name would show generosity in a time of national crisis — not by giving out congee and rice, but by distributing medicinal decoctions, offering urgently needed relief.

Yet far more among the common people were simply waiting — waiting for the legendary living bodhisattva, Immortal Lang, to arrive in their region. The antidote was her creation, and decoctions brewed by her own hands yielded noticeably better results.

Lang Jiuchuan departed from yet another town, hiding away in a wild stretch of hills and mountains, exhausted, drawing in the vital energy of the vegetation around her to restore herself.

She was only human — not a god. Endless days without rest had taken their toll.

By great fortune, the more often she appeared and the more people she saved, the more faith and devotional power she received — and her spirit-soul and vital fortune grew stronger with each passing day.

But Jiangche grew more worried with every day that passed.

It felt as though she was following exactly the path that wretched old monster had laid out for her — just like the Pancheng incident of years past. Lang Jiuchuan was relieving suffering and saving lives, accumulating virtue and devotional power. Was she not simply becoming a vessel for collecting fortune and merit? And once it overflowed — she feared it would end just like her previous life, when she had been sacrificed and destroyed.

After restoring herself, Lang Jiuchuan said: “This cannot go on indefinitely. We need to cut off the source first. She is breeding like a mother worm, spreading plague everywhere she goes — and we are always being led around by the nose.”

In truth, they were being led by the nose even now. The corpse phantom was biting people to spread the toxin — or perhaps had already evolved beyond that, capable of spreading the miasma without biting at all. No matter how capable she and the others were, their energy was finite. And there was the matter of the medicinal ingredients — as the plague evolved, the effectiveness of ordinary protective decoctions would diminish over time, and at that point, where would they find enough Ghost Orchids for the primary ingredient?

So she not only needed to find medicinal substitutes that could replace the Ghost Orchid, but also had to kill the corpse phantom Luo Zheng first.

Lang Jiuchuan pulled out her communication jade talisman, confirmed Gong Tinglan’s location, and prepared to open the shadow path. She then turned to Jiangche: “Go back to Wu Jing. Have A’Piao send his little spirits to search for Ghost Orchids. And take these Righteous Yang Miasma-Dispelling Talismans, the formula, and the spirit water — bring them back to the Lang Family and give them to Elder Uncle. Teach him how to prepare the decoction.”

She hung a small bundle around Jiangche’s neck, and gave its head a pat. “It is hard, yes — but we white tiger sacred beasts do not complain. All this merit you are accumulating will serve you well when you ascend and face your heavenly tribulation.”

But Jiangche could not bring itself to feel glad. Staring at the dense golden radiance of merit and virtue pouring off her, its tiger eyes seemed to turn golden too. “Have you considered — that the one truly leading you by the nose is that old monster Tantai Wuji? Here is an opportunity overflowing with merit and devotional power, and yet he refused to step forward. He lets you be the one to save the world — just like the dragon-sealing formation in Pancheng. This is all a scheme.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s smile faded. “The Buddha said: if not I who descends into hell, then who? Jiangche — I am by nature cold and detached, yet I cannot stand by and watch these people die. That is not my Dao. So even knowing this is most likely a scheme he has laid, with a bottomless abyss beneath — I will still leap into it, without hesitation and without regret.”

“Have you actually started to believe you’re a living bodhisattva?!” Jiangche let out a cold snort.

“No. I am not a god, and I need not be made into one. I only uphold my Dao heart — doing what I am willing to do within the limits of my ability, following my own heart. One can certainly keep to oneself and remain untouched. Yet if all living things perish, what meaning does surviving alone hold?” Lang Jiuchuan clasped her hands behind her back and said calmly: “Besides — this merit and devotional power: even if he laid this scheme to lead me here, I acted, and it fell upon me. It is mine. And what is mine — I decide how to use it.”

He may scheme. He may lay traps. He may lure her into his net. She may take the leap. But who would prevail in the end — that was entirely yet to be decided.

Knowing full well that this was a scheme aimed at her, she would not simply sit and wait to be made his prey.

A glint of sharp, covert light blazed in Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes — piercing through empty space itself, pinning with precision to that person’s every move.

She had said everything there was to say. What else could Jiangche say now? There was nothing left but to stand beside her to the end. It said nothing more — not even the usual warning to be careful. By now, she was no longer the person she had once been. Her only worthy opponent was that old monster Tantai Wuji.

Lang Jiuchuan watched Jiangche depart, then stepped into the shadow path. Setting the plague aside for now, she went to rendezvous with Gong Tinglan.

Gong Tinglan was in a wretched state — and utterly shaken. For days on end he had relentlessly tracked the corpse phantom’s trail, and had clashed with her two or three times. Each time, she was stronger than before — he was nearly unable to keep up with her movements at all. She was especially adept at concealment and shape-shifting.

She was a true white-bone demon — suppress her aura, and she was indistinguishable from an ordinary mortal.

And he — he simply lacked a pair of golden fire-piercing eyes. Like right now: who would guard against a familiar face? And this familiar face, no less, was the very image of the one Lang Jiuchuan had described to him just days ago.

Gong Tinglan looked at the back of his hand where it had been slashed open, a flash of icy intensity in his eyes. Even if it cost him his life and soul, he would destroy this scourge here today.

“The stars revolve and shift, the cosmos rights itself — HOLD!”

He bit down on his tongue-tip, spat a mouthful of yang-pure vital blood onto the Sun-Moon Star Disc in his hand, and hurled it at the corpse phantom who was wearing Lang Jiuchuan’s face.

Are there still readers out there?