Reporting Lang Jiuchuan — that was out of the question. Gong Tinglan and Gong Qi were both devoted to the Way at heart, and they knew perfectly well that what their founding ancestors had done could not withstand scrutiny. No matter how many high-sounding words one wrapped around it — for the sake of peace, for the sake of the people — laying that formation was a violation of the harmony of Heaven, a path that ran exactly contrary to the righteous Way.

Now, two hundred years had passed. The benefits had been extracted for years and years. To be blunt about it — whatever there was to be gained had already been gained in full. Going and reporting someone after all of that would be equivalent to declaring they wanted to squeeze out every last drop until nothing remained — and that was simply not something they could bring themselves to do.

And so, whether out of fidelity to the righteous Way in their hearts, or because Lang Jiuchuan was one of their own people worth protecting, Gong Tinglan was not going to expose her.

But the situation as it now stood was this: the formation guardian was gone. The heroic spirits within the formation were gone as well. The moment this was discovered, an investigation would follow — and what they needed to do was tie up the loose ends of this matter.

“The more one does, the more gaps one leaves behind,” Lang Jiuchuan said. “There’s no need to do anything. When Gong Qi and I entered the city, we had already put on a disguise and given a story for how we came to be here — disciples following the tradition of our sect, traveling the world to temper ourselves.”

Gong Qi glanced over at her. The traveling part was true — but had they actually used any concealing techniques?

Lang Jiuchuan looked toward Gong Tinglan and said, “The Xuan Clans have always been inclined to recruit talented practitioners. For those who do not wish to submit to that arrangement, I imagine quite a few have been pressured into retreating from the world altogether.”

After all, those who refused to be recruited faced suppression — and to avoid drawing attention, many had no choice but to withdraw into deep mountain seclusion or hide themselves away in the bustling world to pursue their cultivation in secret. Some who had entered the Way did so with a genuine, singular devotion to the pursuit of the great path — not for the trappings of status and prestige that the Xuan Clans now embodied.

This world, after all, always had its share of those who cultivated in pure and uncorrupted sincerity.

Gong Tinglan’s face went slightly red. He managed an awkward, strained smile.

This was precisely the flaw of the Xuan Clans as they stood today — the thing that drew contempt. He wanted to change it, and was quietly working to guide the younger generation toward something better — but it was a long road, and not an easy one to walk.

It is hard to return to simplicity once one has grown accustomed to luxury. When one has long since grown used to the advantages and privileges that status provides, how does one lower one’s head and reckon honestly with one’s own shortcomings and vulnerabilities?

Lang Jiuchuan continued: “Beyond the monastic orders and the Xuan Clans, there must certainly exist great practitioners who have hidden themselves away in the midst of the world. Just like us, traveling the world in the tradition of our sect — it is hardly an unusual thing. If the truth of what happened in Eight Trigrams City is discovered and an investigation begins, the trail they’ll be chasing leads into the vastness of the human world, trying to find two people who may very well be elders disguising themselves as children.”

Everyone present was sharp-minded. Once she had laid it out in those terms, they grasped immediately what she was pointing at.

This formation in Eight Trigrams City had existed for two hundred years, and it was the masterwork of the Venerable Tongda himself — a true master of arrays. An ordinary person could not break it. And in truth, the formation had not been broken — the heroic souls within had simply vanished. Either they had shattered and scattered of their own accord, or they had been escorted on.

If they had dissolved and scattered on their own — well, that required no further investigation. But to escort souls across without breaking the formation at all required a monk of immense virtue or a high cultivator of the Dao.

Beyond that, people within the city had apparently heard the sound of the Diamond Sutra being chanted. A Daoist practitioner would hardly go about chanting the Diamond Sutra.

Taken together, the search would most likely focus on a monk — and if not a monk, then two Daoist practitioners who had very possibly used concealing techniques to pass themselves off as children. Which would mean that Lang Jiuchuan and Gong Qi, two actual children, would fall under considerably less suspicion.

And even if the trail somehow led back to the two of them — one was a member of the Xuan Clans’ own household, and the other was, well, exactly as Lang Jiuchuan herself had put it — a figure who looked to be at death’s door, who didn’t appear entirely whole in the first place. Who would believe that such a person had the ability to pull off something of this magnitude?

Thinking on this point, both Gong Tinglan and Gong Qi quietly pressed one lesson into the deepest part of their memories: never judge by appearances, and never underestimate anyone — not even a seemingly frail and unremarkable little girl. Because that person may only appear frail on the surface, and in truth be strong enough to take down a tiger.

Just look at what had happened here — three thousand heroic souls, escorted to their passage without hesitation. No one had helped her. She had broken no formation. It was a pity they had arrived a step too late and missed that moment entirely.

The two of them let their gazes grow a little too telling. Lang Jiuchuan said nothing of it and was quite pleased to let it stand — having a fierce reputation, something to make people think twice, was to her advantage.

Only the mediocre escape envy.

With matters spoken through to this point, Gong Tinglan also concluded that Lang Jiuchuan’s approach was sound. He understood well that there were many sincere, solitary cultivators who had retreated and hidden themselves away in the world — and given that the realm was still at peace and there was no great calamity to call anyone down from the mountains, it was entirely plausible that someone was wandering the world simply out of a desire to follow their heart and contemplate the great path.

Pin the matter on some unknown Daoist of great virtue, a way to sidestep attention for now — that seemed reasonable enough.

As for the only person who had known the full truth: his very soul had been devoured. A pile of bones — one torch, and it was done.

Gong Tinglan looked toward Fuyi, who stood in a shadowy corner of the room, his entire being radiating a cold, suffocating yin energy. “General Fu, do you intend to continue walking in the world of the living?”

Lang Jiuchuan looked up — right, she had forgotten there was still this one to settle.

He had devoured Zixiao Zi’s living soul, and now bore the stain of a life taken. That placed him squarely in the category of a malevolent ghost. If she simply allowed him to wander the mortal world unchecked, and he were to start killing — becoming a truly vicious and violent ghost — the responsibility for that would fall to her.

“I am willing to submit to the young woman’s restraint and direction, and to repay this debt of kindness,” Fuyi said, his gaze resting on Lang Jiuchuan.

Lang Jiuchuan’s head began to ache. The intensity of the man’s gaze — he called it repaying a debt of kindness, but it felt very much like he had simply decided to attach himself to her.

She considered for a moment, then said, “Is it because the historical records of the previous dynasty portrayed you inaccurately, and you wish to clear your name?”

Fuyi was briefly taken aback. He shook his head. “Yesterday’s story is over — dead and done. Whether the record is clean or tarnished, for a person two hundred years gone, it no longer matters.”

His original intention had only been to see the soldiers of the Fu Family Army safely on their way to the afterlife. It was in the course of that endeavor that he had discovered the historical records’ portrayal of himself was less than favorable. The bitterness and resentment were real — but what could be done about it?

The distance between then and now was not a few years or a decade. It was two hundred years. Who could still have records about him from the previous dynasty — and who would be willing to dig them out and revise the historical writings?

More importantly: seeking this so-called vindication of his name would draw the attention of the current imperial family onto Lang Jiuchuan. That would be his gravest sin, and not worth it.

She had already done enough. She had already fulfilled his heart’s original wish.

With those words from Fuyi, Lang Jiuchuan grew quiet. Gong Qi and Gong Tinglan said nothing either. Fuyi’s wrongful treatment was genuine — and if there was an opportunity to clear his name, that would naturally be a good thing. For now, though, there was really only one honest truth to be said: better to stay still than to move.

The reason Gong Qi had urged Lang Jiuchuan not to act rashly was precisely this — she was not standing alone. Behind her stood the Lang Family, and that Marquis’s household was ultimately subject to imperial authority. Those who held imperial power — if they wanted to move against you, it was as simple as opening their mouth.

Lang Jiuchuan was extraordinary in her abilities — but this body of hers was fragile. Her divine soul appeared incomplete as well. She was genuinely ill-suited for head-on confrontation.

Knowing that smashing an egg against a stone would only shatter the egg — and then going ahead and smashing it anyway — was not courage. It was foolishness.

When one must endure, one endures — and once the strength is there, one sweeps the whole board clean…

Ahem.

Gong Tinglan lowered his gaze and silently began reciting a mantra to steady his mind.

Lang Jiuchuan also understood what was reasonable — and Fuyi’s situation was not something that could be resolved in a single sentence. To truly clear his name would require consulting an enormous breadth of historical records and documentation — not to mention that this was a question of rehabilitating the reputation of a general from a previous dynasty. Who would have the heart to take that on?

It was a task harder than a hundred battles against ghosts.

What made it sit so poorly with her was this: that she had to hide, to hold back, to keep herself from stepping forward — all because her strength was not yet sufficient.

Lang Jiuchuan lowered her gaze. Her hand tightened into a fist.

One day — she would make others afraid of her.