Lang Jiuchuan left the Xue residence in a carriage laden with gifts, as Xue Shiyong watched her depart.

Xue Shiyong did not turn back until the carriage had disappeared from view. He had no shortage of matters to attend to next — not only must he carve Lang Jiuchuan’s longevity tablet and enshrine it at the academy, but most importantly, he had to thoroughly investigate the affair of the seal.

If his half-brother truly bore even a shred of guilt in this, then he need not blame him for setting aside the bonds of blood — for it was his brother who had cast those bonds away first.

Xue Shiyong summoned his most trusted head steward and issued several instructions in succession.

Outside the window, the sky had darkened and grown heavy. Snowflakes drifted down.

The weather was changing again.

Lang Jiuchuan sat inside the carriage, her hands forming a ritual seal resting on her knees, her eyes closed as she rested and restored herself.

Jiangche lay at her side, a white, fluffy presence, and feeling the aura of fortune circling around her, let out a long, quiet sigh.

Better and better.

Indeed, the more merit and virtue she accumulated, the more it nourished her divine soul, and the stronger her spiritual power grew.

Right now, her abilities were already enough to surpass many practitioners on the same path. So in her prime — with her daoist body whole and intact, her divine soul undamaged — what heights of daoist arts could she have attained?

Jiangche’s tiger eyes half-opened, and it sank into thought.

Just who was she?

It had cultivated in the deep mountains and paid little heed to the mortal world. Yet after failing its heavenly tribulation, its spiritual awareness had drifted to the capital and taken up residence in the old silver ginkgo for over a year — and in all that time, it had never once heard of anyone so formidably skilled on the daoist path.

This should not be.

If she were of the Xuan clans, a successor of such caliber would be worshipped like a deity, celebrated before all under heaven, for such a person was the very foundation upon which their standing in the world rested.

Jiangche raised its head and looked at the woman beside it. She felt like someone veiled in layers of mist — maddening, tantalizing — making it long to part the haze and see what lay beneath.

The carriage wheels rolled along the street, and then from outside came the sound of rapid, urgent hoofbeats. Someone was shouting at people to clear the way.

Jiangche’s attention sharpened. Its spiritual awareness swept out beyond the carriage walls.

On the long street ahead, two men in dark red daoist robes, cloaked in heavy outer garments, with the look of personal guards, came galloping forward on tall horses. Behind them, several more guards flanked a lavishly decorated carriage following at pace.

The lead guards swung their horsewhips mercilessly in wide arcs to either side. Those who did not dodge in time were struck, and their cries of pain rang out. Anyone who was about to curse in response was immediately and desperately muffled by the people beside them.

“Do you want to die? Those are the Qi family’s people.”

The opposing guards quickly closed in on Lang Jiuchuan’s carriage. A whip came down viciously toward the lead horse, with no regard for the fact that the carriage was still in motion.

“The County Mistress of Guiyang is returning to the capital — clear the way immediately.”

Jiangche’s tiger eyes went cold. If that whip caught their horse, it would startle the animal into bolting and crashing wildly about — possibly overturning the carriage entirely.

Lang Jiuchuan was in the middle of her grand circulation of qi. It absolutely could not be interrupted.

Just as the whip was no more than an inch from striking the horse, Jiangche shot over. With a surge of fierce energy, it blocked and deflected the blow — the whip snapped sharply back and lashed the guard’s own horse instead.

The horse shrieked. Its front hooves reared high into the air. Then, caught in the wash of fierce energy, it went wild — bucking and thrashing — and sent the guard flying from the saddle. The horse’s hooves came down and struck the man squarely in the chest. A mouthful of blood shot out, and he fell to the side, senseless.

The other guard was horrified. Watching the panicked horse charge backward toward the procession, he turned white as a sheet and frantically spurred after it, pulling on the reins.

Lang Jiuchuan’s driver, paralyzed with fear, summoned every last bit of his strength to haul the carriage to a stop at the side of the road, shaking so hard he could barely hold himself upright.

This had absolutely nothing to do with him.

The panicked horse charged toward the carriage at the rear of the procession. The people on the street screamed and scattered. The driver of the Qi family’s carriage was so frightened he forgot entirely to defend himself, and could only watch helplessly as the crazed horse bore down on his own.

It was finished.

“Stop it, stop it!” The several guards who had been flanking the carriage changed expression and spurred their horses forward. One of them leaped from his saddle, touched his toes to the horse’s head as he passed, and landed on its back — straining with all his might at the reins, trying to bring it under control.

But a horse that had been struck by such a surge of fierce energy was not easily stopped. It was a beast to begin with, and its animal instincts had been roused. Sensing opposition, it perceived a threat — and went even more berserk, hurling the man from its back as well.

A whistling sound cut the air.

A flying arrow shot toward the horse’s head.

The panicked horse let out a piercing shriek and went even more wildly out of control.

The driver of the lavish carriage had already been thrown clear. Another guard had seized the reins and was attempting to steer the vehicle away.

Jiangche crouched atop the carriage and watched with cold detachment.

“What is happening?” Lang Jiuchuan’s voice reached it.

Jiangche gave a brief account of events.

Lang Jiuchuan frowned slightly. “Do not let any innocent bystanders be harmed.”

Jiangche immediately looked over. The crazed horse had crashed into the lavish carriage and was now charging toward the bystanders at the roadside. A dense, fierce energy coiled around the animal’s four legs.

Boom.

The crazed horse suddenly collapsed to the ground, its limbs convulsing as it let out a wretched, agonized cry.

The carriage tilted and toppled over to one side, striking the ground with a tremendous crash.

The people on the street stared, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

They could not quite make sense of how things had come to this.

It had clearly been the Qi family’s people who had recklessly spurred their horses at full gallop through the streets, showing no regard for the bystanders — they had even struck people with their whips, and very likely might have beaten someone to death. Yet all of a sudden, their own whip had turned back on their own horse, sent it into a frenzy, and ended with their own carriage overturned.

The whole thing looked bizarre and strange, yet somehow it filled everyone who watched with a quiet, private satisfaction.

The heavens see all; retribution is swift — and this was what it looked like.

A strangely gratifying sense of justice.

Those with clear heads took one look at the scene and immediately pulled their companions away. This was the Qi family’s carriage — that lavish, unmistakable carriage — and they had even cried the name of the County Mistress of Guiyang. That could only be the fourth young miss of the Qi family, Qi Xinyu, the most arrogant and domineering of the lot. Her eldest full sister, Qi Xinfei, had married into the Rong family — one of the three great Xuan clans — and was now a woman of high standing.

The Qi family had no deep roots or distinguished heritage. The highest official currently among them was no more than a fourth-rank Junior Director of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, Qi Zuyao. But he had produced a daughter of exceptional beauty, who was taken as a second wife by a collateral branch member of the Rong family — one who was on very close terms with the main line. From that point on, the entire Qi family had risen to the heights alongside her.

In particular, it was through Qi Xinfei’s efforts that the Qi family had helped forge a connection between the Imperial Noble Consort Qing’s family — the Zhongyong Marquis household — and the Rong family, resolving a thorny matter in the process. As a result, even Qi Xinyu had shared in the reflected glory, and the Noble Consort Qing had petitioned the imperial family on her behalf, securing for her the honorable title of County Mistress.

So while the Qi family had no deep heritage and their official rank was modest, they were nonetheless a force to be reckoned with in the capital — few dared to openly provoke them. After all, they had a daughter who was the young mistress of a Xuan clan.

Oh, but she had only married into a collateral branch — not the main line — so surely that did not count for much?

A collateral branch was still a cut above most, and that branch maintained close ties with the main line. Who would dare provoke them? What if the Xuan clan placed a curse upon you — would that not be the end of you?

And so, seeing that the carriage carrying the County Mistress of Guiyang had overturned, those who knew what was good for them quickly distanced themselves, not wanting to catch a stray calamity simply from watching the spectacle, at the cost of their lives.

Sure enough, the carriage had barely tipped when a guard rushed to assist, while another turned his gaze sharply toward Lang Jiuchuan’s carriage. His eyes were cold and cutting. “Go and detain that carriage,” he said.