The existence of gods depends on believers. As long as faith endures, they endure. Should faith vanish, the gods cease to be.

Lang Jiuchuan’s primordial soul force had departed, yet her physical body remained. Outside, a living shrine had been erected in her honor, with common folk venerating her as an object of faith. All those votive prayers and wishes would be transformed into power, sustaining her physical form even as her soul drifted into nothingness.

It was precisely that faith and those votive prayers that kept the living-sacrifice formation’s eye in existence. Because it had not collapsed, Tantai Wuji naturally had no inkling that she had already escaped.

So when Lang Jiuchuan had once said that the living shrine was a shackle binding her, she had not been wrong.

“The faith and votive prayers sustaining the formation eye have kept it unchanged, leaving him oblivious — that is one reason. There may well be another: he cannot afford to divide his attention. He has most likely suffered some backlash.” A venomous arc curved at the corner of Lang Jiuchuan’s lips. “He schemed and calculated to exhaustion, evading the karmic consequences of the Heavenly Dao, yet the moment he made his move, karma was forged. And to complete a formation of such magnitude — even if he managed to sidestep karmic retribution, he could not escape the backlash that comes from expending such vast spiritual energy to lay the array. Especially since the formation eye involved a living sacrifice of the great destiny’s savior you spoke of. Having harmed her, how could there be no backlash at all?”

All of this combined was why he had gone into seclusion — sealing himself away, refusing to emerge, dreading any unforeseen variable or the possibility that his own cultivation might suffer a reversal from backlash.

“He could wait a thousand years; a few more hours present no difficulty. He will have weighed the advantages and disadvantages with perfect clarity.” Lang Jiuchuan’s mind was lucid and serene.

Here in Feng Ya’s Void Realm, she stood apart from the world’s affairs, untouched by its laws. This distance made it far easier to observe as an outsider — to dismantle things one by one, to bring the situation into clarity.

Even if not everything became clear, it no longer mattered. What had happened had happened. Dwelling on trivial particulars served little purpose; at most, she could examine the situation from the sidelines for any exploitable opening, then lay her plans and schemes accordingly.

In short: Tantai Wuji was her mortal enemy, and she must deal with him.

The moment of truth was fast approaching!

What she was thinking about now was how to enter the Imperial Mausoleum without alerting him — and if she did alert him, how to still withdraw unscathed. If she provoked him into a frenzied rage and forced an all-out confrontation, how should she then respond?

Still, he had schemed for a thousand years. Even if his rhythm were disrupted, he would likely find a way to recover and wait for the auspicious timing he had calculated and deduced, ensuring he would not fall short at the final moment.

So if she were in his position — wanting to guarantee success — what would she do?

If a flaw appeared, there must be a contingency plan ready to substitute… such as…

Lang Jiuchuan gazed at her fingertips in a slight daze, a flash of inspiration igniting in her mind. The color of her eyes deepened.

“What are you thinking about?”

Lang Jiuchuan came back to herself. “I’m thinking about how to dig out those skeletal remains once we’re inside the mausoleum. They lie beneath the sacrificial altar — excavating them will cause considerable noise and movement. The moment Tantai, that old ghost, is alerted, even if I can withdraw with my life intact, I may not be able to take the bones with me.”

Feng Ya said, “At least you have some self-awareness.”

Slipping into the mausoleum might still be done through a rat’s passage, but moving the skeletal remains would inevitably trigger the sealing restrictions!

“So — will you lend me a hand? Rest assured, I won’t let the force of the Dao’s laws annihilate you.” Lang Jiuchuan said.

Feng Ya replied with arrogance, “Mind your own affairs. I could provoke it once, so naturally I dare to do so a second time.”

“Does that mean you’ve agreed?”

“Tell me your plan first. I won’t let you throw your life away pointlessly.” Even in a situation with nine chances of death to one of survival, a clever stratagem could turn that single thread of hope into a fifty-fifty odds — and that would already be more than halfway to success.

“I have a plan…”

Feng Ya listened in silence for a long while, and it was only after she summoned the small Jiuta Pagoda that he finally spoke: “Haven’t I been completely outmaneuvered by you?!”

Outmaneuvered or not — even so, Feng Ya accepted it.

A word once spoken cannot be called back.

Twenty li from the Imperial Mausoleum lay a small town called Longtang. “Small” was a relative term, for the garrison troops stationed to guard the mausoleum were numerous, and their families had been settled here as well. As a result, the town had grown to the scale of a county seat — densely populated and, by all accounts, prosperous.

Within the town stood an establishment called Huichun Hall. Though it bore the name of a medicinal herb shop, it was stocked to the rafters. Certain rare herbs unavailable elsewhere could be found here, and while the prices ran high, the quality was excellent and the medicinal properties were immaculately preserved. For particularly valuable herbs, the proprietor could source them upon request, and their authenticity was guaranteed one hundred percent.

The proprietor was known as Old Master Huang. It was said his ancestral home lay in the northeast, and that he had come to this place to deal in medicinal herbs only after a distinguished benefactor pointed him in this direction. He had the air of a cunning man — when it came to business, he would not reduce the price of his medicines by a single coin. Yet where charity was due, he had never fallen short.

Take the calamity of the corpse-toxin plague: Old Master Huang had donated a considerable quantity of medicinal herbs, earning himself the reputation of a benevolent and kindhearted man.

One might wonder how a man from out of town managed to run a prosperous herb shop without suffering harassment from local ruffians. The answer was simple: Old Master Huang had backing. He was a distinguished guest of General Mao, who commanded the mausoleum-guarding garrison. The story went that when General Mao’s elderly mother had been on the verge of dying from a long-standing illness, it was Old Master Huang who had presented a hundred-year-old wild ginseng that snatched her back from death’s doorstep.

For this, the General Mao’s entire family had treated Old Master Huang as an honored guest — and so he had established himself firmly in Longtang Town.

Old Master Huang’s affairs had gone smoothly year after year. Yet tonight, he was unusually agitated, as though some ominous and inauspicious presence was drawing closer and closer to him.

This feeling grew ever more intense as midnight approached. Old Master Huang made a swift decision: he shuttered and locked the shop. He intended to head over to the Imperial Mausoleum and draw in a breath of the majestic imperial dragon energy.

But the moment he closed the door and turned around, he found that someone extra had appeared in the courtyard. The young woman’s aura was dense, vigorous, and upright. In her hand she held a small nine-tiered pagoda, and she looked exceedingly formidable.

This was a Celestial Master. Could she have come here to deal with him?

Old Master Huang grew extremely wary. His pair of small eyes darted about, and he demanded in a low, probing voice: “I wonder what brings this young lady to intrude upon my humble dwelling so late at night. I won’t keep anything from you — I am sworn brothers with the general who guards the mausoleum, and he’ll be here any moment to share a drink with me.”

“Lang Jiuchuan of the Lang Family, Daoist name Qingyi. Congratulations to Old Master Huang on his attainment of fortune — walking the human world in a human form.” Lang Jiuchuan cupped her hands in a respectful gesture toward Old Master Huang, then added, “The reason for this visit is to ask Old Master Huang for a small favor.”

She had thus made her identity plain.

Old Master Huang blinked and said, “Immortal Master, you flatter me with your regard. Since you know of my origins, you should also know that I am insignificant and my abilities are slight. Never mind helping an Immortal Master — it would already be a great good if I didn’t drag you down.”

“Old Master Huang has attained a rare fortune — there is no need for false modesty. Nor am I asking you to do anything difficult. I only ask that you show me the way. I wish to enter the Imperial Mausoleum.” Lang Jiuchuan smiled. “Serving as a guide — surely that much is possible.”

He was finished. She had truly come for him!

“Immortal Master, the Imperial Mausoleum is protected by a great formation array. To trespass is certain death. Forgive this Huang for being too fond of his own life — I cannot do this. Please seek out someone more capable. I won’t see you out.”

Lang Jiuchuan smiled. “It is precisely because there is a great formation array that I wished to find your passage. That rat tunnel of yours — lead me through it. If you refuse, I have no choice but to take you into custody and hand you over to the Imperial Preceptor. You’ve been burrowing your rat tunnel and stealing the imperial dynasty’s vital fortune energy; he’ll melt you down and refine you into an elixir!”

“You dare!”

“Yes, I dare quite well.”

Old Master Huang was so furious his tail nearly burst out from behind him. “Even if I could take you there, can you even get in? What do you suppose a rat tunnel is? It’s this!”

He suddenly shifted form, transforming into his true body — from the heap of clothing, a small yellow head emerged, glaring fixedly up at Lang Jiuchuan in dry-eyed indignation.