One towering burst of fury shook Eight Trigrams City to its core.
A great many monks and Daoists who had heard the news and were making their way to the scene arrived to find themselves confronted by a human hell draped in a shroud of demonic clouds and deathly silence. All of them were stunned — their faces went pale, their minds and hearts violently shaken.
Then came the sudden thunderous crash, the ground trembling faintly beneath their feet. Their bodies gave a hard jolt and they all turned to look in the same direction.
What they saw was this: the area where the demonic energy had been at its most intense was now enveloped beneath a great mushroom-shaped cloud of thunder. The violet-gold thunderclap rolled outward in sweeping waves, rampaging through the boundless demonic energy and consuming it. This was the cleansing power of a Core Formation Zhenren — the mighty divine authority that had condensed from her intent to slay evil and purge demons — and wherever the golden light of thunder flashed past, the demonic energy seemed to have met its natural nemesis. It scattered and retreated on all sides. In the spot where she stood, the air had already returned to clarity, as though it were a patch of sacred ground.
All those present were filled with reverent awe, and the terror within their hearts settled, if only slightly.
The Dao was not dead. The light of the righteous path would in the end lead them forward without fear.
“You are right — if it is not my fault, then it is my fault, and I will offer my life as atonement.” Lang Jiuchuan’s body trembled slightly. Her fingernails pressed deep into her palms, vivid blood dripping through the gaps between her fingers, yet she seemed to feel nothing at all. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, letting the thunderclap energy wrap and enfold her entirely.
The Core Formation within her, stirred by that burst of towering fury, was spinning at a speed she had never experienced before. Pure core essence carrying the light of meritorious virtue surged forward like an endless crashing tide, washing over and over through the dark shadows and chaotic impulses that had taken root in her sea of consciousness after witnessing the horrors around her.
At the same time, the mind-quieting incantations of both the Buddhist and Daoist schools flowed in silence through her heart, their words transforming into the resonance of the Dao, clearing away every stray thought and stabilizing her shaking foundation — once again hammering it solid.
Feng Ya looked on as she stood there with the ferocity of someone who had utterly committed to a course with no return, and his heart clenched. His lips pressed into a firm, straight line.
After a long while, Lang Jiuchuan slowly opened her eyes. Though grief still lingered within them, that thread of shadow and hidden chaos had already faded away, replaced by a light that was more settled and more resolute than before — like true gold that had been refined through a furnace of primordial fire, now shining even more brilliantly than it had before.
Feng Ya found himself reluctant to meet her gaze directly, feeling only a heavy sorrow in his heart.
“Down in that pit, there is indeed the suppressed skeleton — black and red, thoroughly permeated by wicked demonic energy, with a demonic soul seeped deep into the marrow that has never dissipated. That is the remnant soul of the demonic path’s figure known as the void. Our speculation was not wrong.” Lang Jiuchuan’s expression was stern and cold. “Back then, the head of the Rong Family used the demon-born offspring that the willow immortal had borne him, secretly raising it in the Rong Family’s forbidden grounds to serve as a weapon for his own use — that in itself was already an act of the wicked and demonic. And since the Rong Family head was one of Tantai Wuji’s lackeys, they were naturally all birds of the same feather.”
Tantai Wuji had suppressed the demonic path’s void — outwardly performing a righteous act for the sake of the Dao by eliminating evil, while in secret preserving the demonic tome forged by that wicked being as his own contingency and safeguard against misfortune. And above all of it, he had layered yet another formation to trap and slaughter the heroic souls, using their sacrifice to nourish and intensify the national fortune of the Tantai clan’s founding line — drawing out the greatest surge of fortune since the Tantai clan had established itself.
What a scheme.
Gong Tinglan, leading the cultivators who had rushed over upon receiving word, swept down from the sky. Suddenly hearing these words, everyone was greatly shocked — how was this connected to the legendary demonic figure from antiquity?
They all first offered a respectful salute to Lang Jiuchuan, then pressed her for details.
Lang Jiuchuan concealed nothing. She laid out everything that she and Feng Ya had deduced and personally verified. “Tantai Wuji lost his original body and was driven to fall into demonic ways, then was further corrupted and seduced by the demonic soul of the void. His divine soul has merged with that skeleton and they have become one. Setting aside the matter of whose soul holds dominance for now — purely based on the two of them joining forces to create this human hell, they have already become a demonic lord that all those of our path are duty-bound to destroy.”
She paused, and her voice became somewhat heavy. “I arrived one step too late. I could not save these souls.”
She gazed upon the screaming and wailing sounds of those resentful souls, and compassion filled her eyes.
Gong Tinglan immediately said: “Zhenren, those words are not right. Tantai Wuji is deep in scheming and calculating, and has been planning for a thousand years — he had long since prepared his retreats and contingencies. You are not him — how could you have perceived the full picture? The true perpetrator is none other than the demonic Tantai Wuji!”
“Gong Young Master speaks truly. Zhenren, please do not blame yourself — guard against the demonic energy seizing the moment to enter your heart and corrupt your Dao-heart. We of the righteous path still must rely on Zhenren to lead us in purging evil and protecting the Dao!” An elderly man well past his hundredth year swept his dust-whisk aside with a flourish, and the look in his eyes as he regarded her was one of the utmost reverence and admiration.
Lang Jiuchuan’s achievement of Core Formation had not only added immeasurable confidence and power to their cause of eliminating evil — it had also let them see the hope of breaking through to even higher realms, and strengthened their resolve in the Dao, inspiring them to advance toward the great path.
She was no longer merely a revered and awe-inspiring Core Formation Zhenren. She was a trailblazer who illuminated the way for the great path itself.
“That all of you, fellow Daoists, were willing to come — this too is the fortune of all living beings!” Lang Jiuchuan pressed her fists together in a bow of deep respect, then said: “To dwell upon the past is only to disorder the mind. What must be done right now is to stop him from continuing to bring harm to the common people and plunge the world into true chaos. Furthermore, we must perform the rites to cross over the souls of the dead in this place — for if we do not, this city will become a ghost city, and the demonic energy will only grow more concentrated and harder to disperse, becoming yet another source of power for him. And we must find him and cut off the source of his demonic transformation at the root.”
Her final words were especially sharp and cold. As she looked upon Eight Trigrams City once more, her eyes held absolute resolution.
All the Daoists present voiced their agreement.
To perform the rites for crossing over the souls of an entire city’s dead did not require such a large number of people. Lang Jiuchuan decided to do it herself, selecting only two or three others to assist her. She sent the rest away, for Eight Trigrams City was not the only place that had been transformed into a dead city of demonic earth. There were still many others who had been assimilated by the demonic energy and were continuing their slaughter, and innocent civilians were still dying at the hands of the wicked and demonic. She needed these fellow Daoists to go and drive out demons and eliminate evil.
Lang Jiuchuan looked out at them and called out in a clear, carrying voice: “The tragedy of Eight Trigrams City — our hearts are filled with grief. But the demon calamity stands before us. The common people of this world cannot be saved by my strength alone. Only if we of the same path work together in one heart can we hold up the sky as it falls and protect all living beings. This means holding right thoughts, walking the right path, doing right deeds, and achieving the right fruit. Do you all dare go forward?”
Her voice was clear and resonant, carrying with it the dignity of a Core Formation Zhenren and a sweeping power that settled the hearts of those who heard it, scattering the shadow of dread from their minds.
The elderly Daoist known as Wuwang smiled. “A noble man rectifies himself to illuminate the Dao, walks straight to practice righteousness — what is there to worry or fear?”
Everyone nodded in agreement, pressed their hands together in the Daoist salute, and then departed one by one.
What had come to pass was done. To remain here seething with righteous indignation would accomplish nothing. It was better to take action — to uphold the Dao.
Once the others had left, those who remained were Gong Tinglan and the Daoist Yice, whom Lang Jiuchuan knew well.
“I did not expect that after all the twists and turns, we would come back to this Eight Trigrams City as the starting point.” Gong Tinglan’s aura was cold and heavy. “Tantai Wuji rose here when founding the nation — it seems he had planned this from the very beginning. Once the realm was unified and the Tantai clan had become the ruling dynasty, he immediately set about building this city according to the Eight Trigrams — it must have also been part of his preparation for the so-called great path.”
Lang Jiuchuan said coldly: “This may have been his starting point, but I will transform it into his ending point — the true ground where his bones are scattered and his soul is obliterated.”
What begins from one place must end in that same place. That is the law of things.
Feng Ya glanced at her once more, but said nothing.
“Follow me in crossing over the souls of the dead.” Lang Jiuchuan lifted the tip of her foot and rose into the air, hovering above the ground. She raised the Dizhong Bell at her waist and struck it — a single clear, resonant toll, mournful and compassionate, carried outward on the wind.