With the skeletal remains retrieved, Lang Jiuchuan did not pause for a moment. Both hands moved in rapid seals, the tips of her fingers seeming to flicker with spiritual light that transformed into arcs of lightning, which she slashed down upon the now-empty center of the sacrificial altar, bombarding the formation’s base.

Boom.

The formation’s base was shattered by the blow. The entire Extreme Heaven Hall trembled, and a cascade of fine dust and pebbles came showering down from above. The stone walls cracked like spiderwebs, the fractures spreading outward in every direction.

At that moment, a vast and powerful force carrying an ultimate restrictive will — like a black dragon roused from slumber — came roaring toward Lang Jiuchuan, intent on destroying her completely.

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes sharpened in an instant. With a flick of her wrist, she drew out the Dizhong bell at her waist. She channeled an equally majestic resonance of the Dao into the bell’s body and sent it surging toward that restrictive force.

The golden-purple electric serpents conjured from the bell materialized with the speed of rolling thunder, coiling around that black dragon and bearing down upon it with full force.

Two forces collided, sending out a tremendous blast of sound that made the eardrums ache — thin threads of blood seeped from the ears — while the entire sacrificial altar shook violently, the floor fracturing into countless crevices.

A spasm of pain shot through Lang Jiuchuan’s chest. She casually wiped the thread of blood from the corner of her mouth and did not slow for a single heartbeat. With a light push of her tiptoes, she leaped onto the sacrificial altar, ignoring the lingering restrictive aura that swirled undissipated above it. Her hands moved in a blur, drawing upon the profound Abyssal true energy and the Primordial Chaos energy within her body, cycling them in alternation, condensing a soul-shaking Primordial Chaos intent — and drove it, with full force, straight into the altar’s foundations, targeting the very spot where she had passed away in her previous life.

Inside the small Jiuta Pagoda, Feng Ya, watching all of this, let out a quiet sigh. This was a fighting style with no regard for survival. She had already expended a great deal of her vital energy, and when that old ghost Tantai arrived in a moment, another fierce battle awaited.

Yet Feng Ya did not call a halt. They had come this far. It was impossible to hold back for fear of losing power — that would undo everything they had worked for, and make their entire plan far more difficult.

Crack.

As the Primordial Chaos intent drove into the altar’s base, the dark abyssal stone foundations seemed to explode outward, pulverized into fragments that flew off in every direction. The entire sacrificial altar came crashing down with a thunderous roar, revealing a coffin fashioned from thousand-year cold jade.

Lang Jiuchuan spat out a large mouthful of black blood. Her complexion was ashen. She sank to one knee, pressing a hand to her chest, and raised her gaze toward that jade coffin.

It rested upon the spine of the dragon vein, ringed by a circle of stone pieces engraved with five-colored scripture talismans. Unceasing dragon-vein energy and vast, surging golden vital fortune swirled around it, refusing to disperse — while another aura, as vast as the ocean yet thick with the weight of death, emanated from within the coffin.

Exactly as they had anticipated.

Lang Jiuchuan’s lips curved. She had won this round.

She approached and looked down through the jade coffin, a ferocious light passing through her eyes.

Within the jade coffin lay the body of a man — of incomparable beauty, his skin lustrous and radiant, bearing five or six points of resemblance to the National Preceptor in features, yet more commanding in presence, and all the more awe-inspiring. He was dressed in a long black robe, both hands crossed and resting on his chest and abdomen. His skin shimmered with a faint spiritual radiance — he looked nothing like a corpse dead for a thousand years, but rather like someone sunk in deep slumber. His body was shrouded in pure dragon-vein energy and a faint golden vital fortune, which pressed down on the death aura, tempered and neutralized it, then seeped into the skin.

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes burned red. A thousand years of nourishment had already restored this body — which ought to have long since decomposed — to such a startling state. No wonder Old Lord Huang had said the earth-vein energy carried a different aura, as though something terrifying were about to awaken.

He was nearly rousing from his sleep.

Over the course of these thousand years, how much vital fortune had he siphoned from imperial dynasties and clans — even from the common people — to restore himself to this state? This boundless fortune might even surpass what he had possessed in life.

How did he deserve it?

Just as Lang Jiuchuan was about to blast open the jade coffin and destroy this root of all calamity, a sharp, penetrating aura came bearing down from directly behind her.

“You wretched creature — how dare you!” A shriek, sharp enough to be nearly warped beyond recognition, tore through the air — laden with overwhelming killing intent — locking onto Lang Jiuchuan completely.

Before the words had even finished, a blast of fierce wind arrived. A figure fast as a ghost shot forward, five fingers bent into claws, driving straight for the vital point at her back.

Lang Jiuchuan stiffened all over and whipped around — and found the five clawed fingers of Tantai, the Imperial Princess already nearly upon her. The expression on that face was one of furious outrage, both eyes blazing red. Though it was unmistakably the face she knew — the tone and cadence of the voice just now had unmistakably belonged to Tantai Wuji.

That old ghost. He had changed bodies again. He had…

The rage in Lang Jiuchuan’s chest shot to its absolute peak in an instant. She struck out forcefully, both palms meeting in a clash, true energy surging and churning.

Boom.

Both figures were flung back several steps.

Lang Jiuchuan lifted her gaze. She saw the glass-clear eyes of Tantai, the Imperial Princess — now turned bloodshot — that cold and striking face contorted by fury, the spiritual energy around her body in violent turmoil, yet slightly unstable.

It was an imperfect fit.

She was a woman’s body, and Tantai Wuji had only just seized it. He had likely not had time to fully fuse with the host before being triggered by the restriction’s breaking and charging after her.

Ah-Yue…

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes were red enough to bleed. Her fists clenched tight.

Tantai Wuji’s gaze swept to the scene behind her, and rage surged — he had still been a step too late. She had actually managed to breach the mausoleum.

His eyes shot to Lang Jiuchuan, and a flicker of strange light passed swiftly through his gaze. Even though she had undergone nirvana and rebirth in a new body, the vital fortune and merits that belonged to her had never dispersed — they were, if anything, more surging and abundant than before, enough to make any onlooker covetous with envy.

If he had possessed such fortune back then, he would not have failed at breaking through to Core Formation. He would have ascended to the great Dao long ago — rather than squandering a thousand hollow years re-scheming from the beginning.

But even failing at the breakthrough was no obstacle. He still had his allotted fortune. If Heaven would not allow him to become a True Immortal, then he would become the Sovereign who wrote the rules — for that goal, he would stop at nothing.

He had calculated every move to exhaustion. He was on the verge of achieving the great Dao. And yet — an unforeseen variable had arisen. And this variable was, of all things, his own allotted fortune.

Fortune and misfortune were intertwined.

Perhaps it was his fate — to rise by this hand, and fall by the same?

Tantai Wuji’s expression shifted through several changes. A ruthless light cut through his eyes.

He absolutely would not allow it.

He had paid a tremendous price to peer into the workings of fate, and from that glimpse had discerned this particular allotted fortune. At the time, the divination had shown mountains layered upon mountains, rivers winding through rivers — and he had not understood it. Only after Lang Jiuchuan fled and was reborn did he understand: this was a second chance offered to him.

He could not lose.

Tantai Wuji looked at Lang Jiuchuan’s striking face, one hand clasped behind his back, and said lightly: “Ah-Qing. You have come before your master — why have you not bowed?”

He did not bother with pretense or empty words. Master and disciple reunited — here, of all places, and before his own physical body. It was clear both sides knew exactly what was at stake. To speak any more hypocritical pleasantries would be a gross insult to both their intelligence.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at him wearing the face of Tantai, the Imperial Princess — mouthing words that inspired the deepest revulsion — and let out a cold laugh. “I only bow to the dead. Why not explode yourself right here, and I might just grace you with a bow?”

Tantai Wuji’s face darkened. “Your master never taught you to talk back to your elders.”

“The so-called master I had was the National Preceptor of the current dynasty, Tantai Qing. As for some despicable old ghost who seized the body of a woman — where do you get the audacity to impersonate my master?” Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes blazed with ferocity. “Demonic fiend, foul specter — you deserve to be destroyed!”

Before the words had even left her lips, the Dizhong bell was drawn and swung with savage will straight toward him. “Die!”