Outside the Lang Residence.
The group of Imperial Guards whose eyes had been burning red — minds corroded by demonic energy and stripped of rational thought — had been beaten down to the ground by the Lang Family members or by Fuqi and the others. Only when the bell-toll of Lang Jiuchuan’s demonic energy purification rang out did their frenzied expressions slowly dissolve, and they looked around in bewilderment.
What had happened? How had they come to attack the Lang Family?
The Lang Family’s young men each bore injuries of one kind or another, crouching and sitting on the ground, staring at those people with the fierce intensity of wolf cubs. Even as the demonic energy retreated, they dared not relax their guard — even with the White Tiger King at their backs for protection.
If they let their guard down and allowed someone to slip through and break into the residence, it would be the women and the weak inside who would suffer.
They had won this fight. The feeling was both exhilarating and immensely satisfying — but what filled them most was a proud, soaring boldness. As long as one had the courage to throw everything on the line, they too had the ability to protect their home.
Fuqi and the others exchanged a glance and gave a quiet nod. It was only by going out there that one could grow. Even sustaining injuries — it was only through fighting that one accumulated experience and discovered one’s shortcomings, growing stronger with each battle.
Real combat was the best means of making progress.
These sons of the Lang Family had been stirred to a fierce blood-heat — willing to fight, willing to push forward. This was how the fighting spirit passed down from their ancestors was awakened, and they were proving themselves worthy of the achievements those forebears had won from horseback.
Without this, if they had continued hiding behind Lang Jiuchuan all along, how far could this family truly go?
A familiar yet even more imposing aura suddenly carried through from the void.
Jiangche let out a howl and shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, charging at full speed toward the direction of that aura.
Lang Jiuchuan extended one hand, caught the great tiger by the scruff of the neck just before it could knock her down, hoisted it upside-down, and shook it lightly. “What is the rush.”
“You dissolved our contract — on what grounds? You never even asked me!” Jiangche roared in protest, dissatisfied and aggrieved, its tone carrying the wounded grievance of a beloved pet that had been abandoned, all four limbs endlessly pawing and batting at her sleeve.
Lang Jiuchuan gathered it up into her arms and brushed her hand over it, shrinking it down to a tiny size.
“The heavenly tribulation of the golden core stage is unlike anything ordinary. Even Tantai Wuji — that old fiend — failed and fell at that very threshold. How would I dare gamble?” She explained in a gentle tone. “Dissolving the contract means your spiritual consciousness is whole and intact — from this point on your cultivation will proceed more smoothly, and it is also granting you your freedom.”
“Who wanted freedom? You tricked me into forming that contract in the first place, and now you dissolve it just because you feel like it — utterly unreasonable. You promised we would achieve the Great Way together, yet you broke through the golden core stage and I didn’t get so much as a scrap of benefit.” Jiangche huffed. “Don’t think you can be the kind of person who kicks away the ladder after crossing the bridge — don’t even dream of shaking off this White Tiger King. You’re supposed to be helping me achieve the rank of a divine beast.”
“Fine — from now on you will stay by my side as my spiritual beast!” Lang Jiuchuan scratched the back of its neck, then descended from the void to land before Fuqi and the others. She swept a glance over the chaotic scene in front of the residence gates, and a cold gleam flashed through her eyes — the killing intent she carried toward Tantai Wuji deepened by another layer. She gave Fuqi and Innkeeper Piao a slight nod. “You have both worked hard these past days, watching over the Lang Residence.”
“We have not failed in our duty.” Fuqi’s eyes shone brilliantly. “To be the first cultivator in a thousand years to break through to the golden core stage — congratulations, Xiao Jiu.”
A golden core Zhenren — unique in the world. She had at last become the light of the righteous path!
A’Piao raised an eyebrow with a teasing look. “Enough of the empty talk — give us something practical. Zhenren, is there a reward?”
Lang Jiuchuan smiled. She focused her fingertip, then sent three threads of pure golden core spiritual energy respectively into each of their brows. “Go and contemplate.”
A’Piao and Fuqi were overcome with joy. They exchanged one glance and vanished in an instant. Jiangche nuzzled against her and slipped into her sleeve, while its spiritual consciousness went to the Xiaojiuta.
Only then did Lang Jiuchuan look toward the young men of the Lang Family who had been watching her from afar, not daring to draw any closer. “You all did well.”
Several faces flushed red with excitement, and more than one spine straightened a few degrees further. They had been acknowledged by Ninth Sister.
Lang Jiuchuan entered the residence. A servant shouted in excitement: “Ninth Miss is back!”
Everyone came running over, fast-paced. They looked at this woman who seemed like a divine being, and found themselves at a loss, feeling a quiet shame. In less than two years, that unremarkable Ninth Miss had become an existence so elevated they could only kneel and look up.
They were unsure what manner of attitude they ought to take toward this honored and august person — however they conducted themselves seemed insufficient as a mark of respect.
Lang Jiuchuan inclined her head in greeting to the elders such as Lang Zhengping, saying: “The turmoil outside has eased for the time being — Great Uncle, please set your heart at rest.”
She cast her gaze around the room, but did not see Cui Shi.
“Good, good!” Lang Zhengping suppressed the excitement stirring in his chest, let his smile fade, and said with a measure of solemnity: “Your mother saw the images from the imperial mausoleum, and after that — she has not been quite well.”
That kind of “not well” was a loss of the will to live.
Lang Jiuchuan’s form flickered and she was at Cui Shi’s chamber. She waved off those who moved to surround her and came to stand beside Cui Shi’s bed. Seeing the gray, faded deathly pallor that had settled over her face, her brow furrowed.
To lose the will to live was to lose the vitality of life. Cui Shi had suffered blow after blow, and her body, already afflicted with a heart ailment, could not endure it — even though Lang Jiuchuan had again and again snatched her back from the gates of death and used spiritual energy to extend her life.
But she was, after all, only a mortal — one who would pass through the natural course of aging, illness, and death.
Lang Jiuchuan let out a quiet sigh and reached out toward Cui Shi’s brow. Cui Shi seemed to sense her presence. From somewhere she found the strength, and grasped Lang Jiuchuan’s wrist. She opened her eyes — veined through with red — and looked at her steadily.
“I have heard that forcibly reversing the mandate of Heaven invites the backlash of heavenly cause and effect. Do not suffer that kind of pain for me any further — you have already suffered enough.” Cui Shi’s gaze carried a thread of sorrow. “We have shared the bond of mother and daughter. The debt of birth — you repaid it long ago. So there is no need to continue like this.”
Lang Jiuchuan said: “You will die.”
“All people die eventually. I should have died long ago.” Cui Shi said. “I know you still have more important things to attend to. Do not waste your divine power. Save it, and come back alive.”
“I will not extend your life — only replenish your spiritual energy, which will ease your suffering somewhat.” Lang Jiuchuan held her hand and channeled a small measure of spiritual energy: “Do not refuse. This is within the range I can bear.”
Cui Shi did not struggle. She simply looked at her and said: “I am sorry. I was not a qualified mother. I could not protect you.”
Her tone was even and calm — no hysteria, no resentment. Simply flat.
“Though I grew up amidst schemes and calculation, I have still grown into myself. I can protect myself now.”
Cui Shi broke into a faint smile, trembling hands reaching up to touch her face, eyes brimming with pride and worry alike. “Yes. You truly are remarkable — only too much suffering.”
Lang Jiuchuan was silent for a long moment, then said: “All beings suffer. Ten thousand forms have no inherent nature. One can only save oneself. No matter how bitter or difficult it becomes — coming to this place was, for me, nothing more than passing through my own tribulation.”
In this world, who was not trudging along beneath a loaded pack, stumbling step by step? Every person had their own adversity to face.
Ten thousand kinds of suffering — one can only save oneself. A thousand kinds of hardship — one can only strengthen oneself.
Cui Shi watched her — so much more transcendent and clear-sighted than before, her tone calm yet carrying the unshakeable confidence and strength of someone whose single word could settle heaven and earth. Her heart understood completely at last: her daughter was gradually receding further and further away. The person before her now was an Immortal who had transcended the cycle of reincarnation.
Slowly, she loosened her grip on Lang Jiuchuan’s hand.
So be it.