No hatred without a cause!

These words struck young Qingyi’s heart like a muffled clap of thunder — heavy and resonant. Her entire body went slightly rigid. She looked at Min Qingfeng, and sure enough, she saw that his weakened ghost-form, fueled by the eruption of his bitter resentment, was beginning to solidify again.

This was the sign of a ghost turning into a vengeful wraith.

What kind of hatred could cause a ghost’s resentment to surge so violently that it transformed him into a wraith? Qingyi recalled his words — that the Min Clan had been destroyed — and felt a tremor at the tip of her heart. But she quickly steadied herself.

“There is no hatred without a cause — that is true enough. But if someone insults my Master and I simply listen without a word, I would be unworthy of being a disciple of my own sect.” Qingyi lifted her chin and said, “I had never met him before. I had only just asked what grudge lay between us — and immediately he insulted my Master as an evil practitioner and called me cut from the same cloth. What, do you take me for a clay bodhisattva?”

She was no bodhisattva. If anything, she was a lit firecracker.

Even granting that there was a grudge between them — without knowing the truth of the matter, what she should defend was, of course, her own side. Especially when the other party had accused her in words of stealing others’ karmic merit energy. Was she supposed to have no temper about that at all?

What she cultivated was the straightforward, blazing light of the righteous path. She would never stoop to the lowly, underhanded art of stealing from others.

“The National Preceptor destroyed my entire clan — he is an evil practitioner of dark arts. You are his disciple, so what better could you be?” Min Qingfeng snarled, his ghost-energy swelling, deepening to a black and viscous darkness — clearly the depth of his hatred.

“You have condemned someone based on nothing but your own one-sided view. You make easy accusations. You say my Master destroyed your clan — on what evidence?” Qingyi sneered. “Furthermore: if I were a practitioner of evil and dark arts, I would take you here and now to refine into a ritual vessel. I am advising you not to become a wraith. If you lose your reason and go out to harm people, I will destroy you.”

As she spoke, she formed her technique seal again, in the manner of someone about to beat down the surging, wraith-like energy of Min Qingfeng before it could overtake him completely.

Small as she was, her eyes were sharp and fierce, her whole body blazing with righteous energy shot through with golden light — enough that even Feng Ya found his gaze resting on her for an extra moment. This child either had a Dao-constitution from birth or was a natural vessel of the Dao with extraordinary talent and comprehension. At such an age, her divine soul already bore innate merit and golden light. If one were to absorb her, it would be a tremendously nourishing substance for one’s soul cultivation, advancing one’s practice greatly.

Yet she seemed entirely unaware of this, and still dared to wander in spirit form like this. Was this fearlessness, or the confidence of one who held some card in reserve?

Or perhaps — was she simply foolish?

Feng Ya swept a cold glance over the large ghosts who had been stirring restlessly. The pressure in that look was enough to make them all drop their gazes, not daring to scheme.

“He used my Min Clan’s hundred years of family fortune to consolidate his Dao and stabilize his foundation — does that count?” Min Qingfeng’s eyes were bloodshot. “He ruined my Min Clan’s ancestral burial ground and severed the bloodline of my clan. Is such a man worthy of the title National Preceptor? Heaven is without justice!”

He suddenly threw his head back and let out a ghostly shriek toward the sky, and the dark resentment energy surged upward in a column.

Qingyi’s eyes twitched. She was about to act when someone moved faster than her, stepping in front of her to intercept. It was that Feng Ya Lord.

“He is my guest — you may not touch him!” Feng Ya looked down at her with a cold, superior gaze. “To move against my people is to oppose me.”

Qingyi pressed her lips together. “If he becomes a wraith and goes out into the mortal world to do harm, does that fall into your karma as well?”

Feng Ya said indifferently, “Every consequence has a cause. If he becomes a wraith, there is a cause for it. Grievances have their source; debts have their owner. Even the Panguan of the underworld can only impose punishments in accordance with what is written in the merit-and-demerit ledger. Since he says your Master is the enemy who destroyed his clan, if he becomes a wraith and harms people, would that not fall on your Master’s head anyway?”

“Without proof or evidence…”

“Then why not seek out the evidence before making your argument?”

“Don’t try to sow discord here. Burden of proof lies with the accuser. The question is whether you are determined to protect him today.” Qingyi glared at Feng Ya, calculating internally whether she could win in a fight against this person.

“I am protecting him!” Feng Ya condensed a spectral underworld sword, looking down at her. “You wish to touch him, you fight me first.”

Qingyi stared hard at him, then darted a glance at the dense, dark mass of ghosts.

“Even if you lose, they will not dare touch you — rest assured!” Feng Ya said, as though reading her concern, and could not help but smile.

Qingyi’s eyes darted sideways. “You and I have no grudge and no enmity. Why would I fight you?” She turned to look at Min Qingfeng and said, “Grievances have their source; debts have their owner — very well. If you have the ability, go seek your revenge yourself. But if you harm those who are unrelated to your grudge, I, Qingyi, will destroy you.”

She turned and left, moving swiftly.

Feng Ya was faintly regretful — he had genuinely wanted to spar with this child. What a pity. Young as she was, she had plenty of wits and a cunning little soul. She had been wary of walking straight into a trap on her own.

Such a young age, such strong cultivation. Her Daoist arts were surely nothing lesser, either. Capable of restraining herself. Given time — she would become something extraordinary.

With a Heavenly Master like this in the mortal world, the evil spirits and demons of this realm would have to tread carefully.

“Lord Feng Ya — why did you let her go?” Min Qingfeng’s entire body roiled with dark energy.

Feng Ya cast him a cold sidelong glance. “What — did you think I should have helped you kill her, taking revenge for your clan’s destruction? Who do you think you are? On what basis do you imagine I would kill a little Heavenly Master bearing merit and karmic fortune, taking on the kind of heavenly retribution that would bring? On what basis do you think I would shoulder that kind of karmic consequence for your sake?”

The look in those eyes froze Min Qingfeng to the bone. The dark energy surging around his entire form stopped dead, and he stood there in a daze.

“She had a point. No matter what injustice you carry, grievances have their source and debts have their owner. If you want vengeance, go find your enemy — but don’t implicate the innocent.” Feng Ya stood with his hands clasped behind him. “If you kill someone who ought not to be killed, you will die.”

Either at her hands, or at his.

Because today he had protected him.

Feng Ya gave him no further attention. He had cultivated for no fewer than a thousand years and had seen ghosts of every kind. There were plenty who had suffered greater injustice than him. And in the end, what became of them all?

All were passing travelers.

Every soul that had appeared in his vicinity, then failed to remain — all of them were passing travelers.

Feng Ya glanced in the direction where the child had disappeared. Would she also be a passing traveler?

A large ghost flattered him: “A living soul bearing such merit and karmic fortune — if Lord Feng Ya were to absorb her, becoming an immortal would be within immediate reach.”

Feng Ya’s expression turned cold. “This lord does not stoop to such things. I advise you all not to entertain such ideas either. That child is not the ordinary little child you imagine her to be. Go and provoke her, and be prepared never to come back.”

Meanwhile, the object of Feng Ya’s praise — Qingyi — had floated several hundred li away, and was standing alone in a dark, eerie forest, completely absorbed in Min Qingfeng’s words.

It was impossible. It had to be some misunderstanding. Master was the National Preceptor, revered by the people of all the realm, a guardian deity of the nation. The power of faith and vows flowed toward him without end. How could he have done such a thing?

And yet, however much she wanted to dismiss it, those words had taken root in her heart and refused to leave.

Qingyi’s small face had scrunched up in a frown. She was just about to hear a faint sound and turned her eyes sharply toward it — and saw a girl about her own age, floating in a dazed and aimless manner. Behind the girl, an old ghost was lurking, ready to seize its moment.

Qingyi flicked a technique seal at the old ghost, who screamed and fled wailing into the distance. Then Qingyi grabbed the small girl by the arm. “Hey, what’s your name? How did you get separated from your body? And you ended up floating in a mass grave — are you trying to get yourself killed?”

The small girl raised her head. Qingyi blinked, and instinctively touched her own face. This person looked a little like her.

“My… my name is Lang Jiuchuan,” the little girl said quietly, looking at her. “I can’t find my way back.”