Lang Jiuchuan did not offer Xue Shiyong and the others any detailed explanation. She simply stated her request — that her longevity tablet be enshrined at the academy and offered incense day and night. If he himself could not offer incense, he was to send students in his place, and they must be sincere in doing so.

Upon hearing this, the expressions on Xue Shiyong and the others’ faces became truly a kaleidoscope of colors.

This person wasn’t dead, yet she could run into absolutely anything.

A young girl who had not yet reached the age of fifteen, asking people to carve a longevity tablet and enshrine it for her — what sort of request was this? Would doing so grant her a long life of a hundred years?

“May I ask why you want this longevity tablet? Wouldn’t a young girl prefer gold, silver, and jewels, fine silks and satins, or perhaps a satisfactory marriage? I can agree to any of those,” said Xue Shiyong.

He did not even dare imagine what people would say if he truly did as she asked and enshrined a longevity tablet at the academy. They would probably say he had suffered some great shock and gone mad. After all, a person who kept the seven-character mantra — the Master does not speak of the strange, the forceful, the disorderly, or the supernatural — perpetually on his lips suddenly kneeling before a longevity tablet in worship — such a dramatic change in character could only be madness, could it not?

Lang Jiuchuan said, “Master Xue, gold, silver, silks, and satins only display their beauty when worn on a living person. If one is dead, what good is all the gold and silver in the world? Could you plate a corpse in gold? And if you truly did so, even if you weren’t afraid, I would still fear having my body dug up and stripped by grave robbers hunting for treasure!”

Xue Shiyong: “!”

“Look at me — I have the look of someone fated to die young. How long I can live is itself a question. Gold and silver are all well and good, but what I need more is to stay alive first!” Lang Jiuchuan extended her hands. Those hands were slender, pale, and wan, showing scarcely a trace of vitality.

Both men composed their expressions. This child was indeed somewhat frail.

“The academy is the most upright place, abundant with the aura of the God of Literature. With you enshrining offerings and praying for my blessings there, I can draw upon at least some of that fortune. For me, the merit would be immeasurable.”

Xue Shiyong was slightly surprised. “Would that truly work?”

“For me, it would,” she said. A great deal, in fact.

Xue Shiyong considered for a moment, then said, “I agree to this condition.”

Lang Jiuchuan revealed a smile and said, “I must trouble Master Xue to give me one of his hairs, along with his birth date and hour.”

Xue Shiyong did not hesitate. He plucked a single hair and passed it over, then wrote down his birth date and hour on a slip of paper and handed that over as well.

Lang Jiuchuan had a small sachet hanging at her waist. From it she withdrew a small porcelain bottle, tipped out a bit of cinnabar, then took a sheet of yellow talisman paper and bent over the table to draw a talisman.

As Xue Shiyong and Zhao Kun watched from the side, when Lang Jiuchuan sat at the table’s edge, she gave her hand a flip — and a brush appeared in her palm as if from thin air. Both men rubbed their eyes in astonishment.

Were they seeing things? Where had that brush come from?

Jiangche gave a smug, light snort. Blinded by our young miss’s brilliance, aren’t you?

Lang Jiuchuan first drew a tracking spirit talisman, then used the yellow paper to make a small figure, wrote the birth date and hour upon it, and pasted the hair to the figure’s head.

Xue Shiyong watched, his heart uneasy.

Next, Lang Jiuchuan formed hand seals with both hands and directed a ritual technique onto the paper figure, then tapped the tip of her brush against the figure’s spiritual crown.

The Panguan brush — it could fix a soul in place, and it could summon a soul forth.

Xue Shiyong suddenly felt a slight dizziness. Before he could ponder where the dizziness had come from, he heard Zhao Kun, standing beside him, draw a sharp breath.

For the paper figure that had been lying flat on the table — as if granted life — pressed both hands against the tabletop and stood upright.

A sharp intake of breath.

Xue Shiyong’s expression shifted slightly. A chill ran down his back, and he broke into a cold sweat.

Lang Jiuchuan tapped the tip of her brush against the figure’s feet and said, “Identify objects and track traces. Little Master Xue — go and find the object that bears your birth date and hour and a keepsake from your body.”

The paper figure swayed and wobbled, gave a small nod of its head, then drifted lightly off the table.

Xue Shiyong and Zhao Kun stared blankly: “!”

What a sight to behold!

The paper figure could understand human speech — and it could walk.

“I have imbued it with spirit. The paper figure carries a trace of your spiritual awareness. It will lead us to find the object that shares its connection.” Lang Jiuchuan was the first to follow after the figure. “Come along — keep up.”

Xue Shiyong’s legs were rooted to the ground. Numb.

Zhao Kun could only take him by the arm and half-drag him along.

The paper figure led the way ahead. Lang Jiuchuan followed at an unhurried pace, without the least worry that the figure might disappear. Seeing this, Xue Shiyong and the others were anxious at heart, yet could only follow along as calmly as they could manage.

But as the paper figure led them forward, Xue Shiyong’s brow furrowed, and he exchanged a glance with Zhao Kun.

This was the direction of his study.

Indeed — the group found themselves standing before the door of his study. The little paper figure slipped in through the crack beneath the door.

Xue Shiyong quickly stepped forward and pushed the door open. He swept his gaze around the room and soon caught sight of the paper figure.

It was clinging to the leg of a chair, huffing and puffing as it tried to climb up. The sight was rather amusing to watch, but Xue Shiyong’s heart had turned to ice.

Lang Jiuchuan had said it herself — she had sent it to find the object connected to it. Now that it had made its way up here, that meant the object truly existed.

The paper figure climbed over the armrest of the chair and from there made its way up onto the desk, where the Four Treasures of the Study were arranged. It crept over and pressed itself flat upon a tian huang stone seal.

Xue Shiyong’s face darkened.

Was it this tian huang stone seal?

He stared fixedly at the seal, his lips pressed into a thin, straight line.

Lang Jiuchuan had already detected the malevolent, corrupted energy on the seal. She walked over, removed the paper figure, used her brush to draw the spirit she had placed within it back out, and re-tapped it onto Xue Shiyong’s forehead.

Xue Shiyong gave a start, and felt the fog over his mind clear considerably. He asked, “Is it this?”

Lang Jiuchuan picked up the seal. A cold, malevolent aura emanated from it, attempting to climb into her body.

Lang Jiuchuan’s mind stirred. She suppressed that cold force with pure righteous intent and examined the seal carefully.

One liang of tian huang stone is worth one liang of gold. This seal was no bigger than a child’s fist. Its top was carved into an exquisite miniature Wenchang Pagoda. Its body was pure and unblemished, warm and smooth to the touch — a fine stone nearly free of any impurities. That was, of course, before it had been tampered with.

It had been left in a place of yin malevolence to be nurtured. Stone naturally carries yin energy. Nurtured further in a place of yin evil, it had become an object of supreme yin. If one handled it for extended periods, the malevolent yin energy within the stone would seep into one’s organs, causing illness and misfortune.

“…The stone itself is a fine stone, and the carving is not lacking either. What a pity.” Lang Jiuchuan turned it over and flipped it to reveal the base. There, Xue Shiyong’s literary name was inscribed.

Master Shi Yong of Xue.

It incorporated both the honorific others used for Xue Shiyong and his given name — a rather clever arrangement.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at those characters, let her fingertip trace over the inscription, then suddenly applied force and pried it apart.

The seal, which had appeared seamlessly joined, was wrenched open at the joint between the base and the Wenchang Pagoda, revealing the hidden interior.

It was hollow. Inside lay two small yellow talismans bound tightly with red thread — and a horrifying black eyeball, reeking beyond description.

Zhao Kun let out a gasp and grabbed Xue Shiyong’s arm. “Old Xue, don’t tell me you’ve been handling this thing day after day?”

Was he not essentially playing with a dead man’s eye every single day?

Xue Shiyong’s face flushed red, then turned dark, then went white, his lips trembling, his chest seized with a sharp, twisting pain, his throat itching.

Pfft!

A mouthful of old blood sprayed onto Zhao Kun.