Chapter 23: This Scheme to Destroy the Lang Family

 Chapter 23: This Scheme to Destroy the Lang Family

With Lang Zhengping coughing blood from rage, the already chaotic mourning hall fell into even greater disorder.

After swallowing two heart-protecting pills in succession, Lang Zhengping’s boiling emotions finally calmed somewhat. He took a deep breath, turned to look at Lang Jiuchuan, his eyes carrying scrutiny and something unnamable. Only after a long while did he ask:

“How did you know your grandfather’s body had been tampered with?”

Lang Jiuchuan replied, “Who knows? Perhaps Grandfather appeared in a dream to complain about his headache.”

That infuriating tone made Lang Zhengping’s chest tighten painfully again, blood surging up his throat. He forcibly swallowed it down and said:

“Is there anything else? What are they trying to achieve by doing this?”

That last question was asked through gritted teeth, suppressing fury.

Lang Jiuchuan tore off two talismans pasted inside the coffin and handed them to Daoist Zhong:

“You could see the trick in the coffin nails, so you must have some skill. You tell him.”

Daoist Zhong: “?”

Wait—this little lay believer was so matter-of-fact?

He raised his head toward Lang Jiuchuan, noted her features with some puzzlement, and took the yellow talismans to examine. His brows knit.

“This is a Gathering-Yin Talisman? Master Jingchi, would you take a look?”

Master Jingchi received them, studied carefully, and intoned a Buddhist chant:

“Indeed, these are Gathering-Yin Talismans without a doubt.”

Seeing both men’s faces turn grave, Lang Zhengping’s heart sank with them. He ordered the household members to withdraw outside, keeping only his eldest son and third brother by his side. In a lowered voice, he asked:

“May I ask the two masters, what is the meaning of these talismans?”

Daoist Zhong and Master Jingchi exchanged a glance, reading helplessness in each other’s eyes. They had stumbled into the underworld dealings of a great household—never a good thing for men of religion. But since they had encountered it, they could not ignore it.

Daoist Zhong said carefully:

“My knowledge is shallow, but I know a little. It is said: with Yin Sha needles pinning the bones, Gathering-Yin talismans pasted inside the coffin, and coffin nails soaked in Yin Sha qi sealing the coffin—after a time, the corpse will breed into a ferocious fiend. Once such a fiend is formed, the burial ground itself becomes steeped in Yin Sha. In geomancy this is an ominous curse, bringing calamity to the land and even to descendants for generations…”

Daoist Zhong ended it there.

Custom dictates returning to one’s roots; naturally, the burial ground for the Marquis of Kaiping would be the Lang family’s ancestral tombs. If not for Lang Jiuchuan interfering, the old master would have been buried there, and once the ground turned into a place of fiends, the Lang family’s fengshui would collapse, leaving descendants doomed.

The hand behind this was vicious beyond measure.

The faces of Lang Zhengping and the others changed drastically.

Such a poisonous scheme—this was meant to wipe out the Lang family!

Lang Caimeng, never having encountered such sinister arts before, paled and asked:

“If it succeeds, will my Lang family truly be plagued by endless misfortune? Do such practitioners really exist in the world?”

Daoist Zhong smiled faintly:

“Crooked` arts have always existed, and so too have such evil spells. Practitioners of them we call the ‘Evil Path.’ Those with some ability are not easy to find. Whether the scheme succeeds depends on the skill of the practitioner and the quality of the evil objects used.”

“Then, in your view, Master,” Lang Zhengping asked grimly, “is the one who schemed against my Lang family difficult to face?”

Daoist Zhong instinctively glanced at Lang Jiuchuan, then hedged his words:

“Do not be alarmed, benefactor. The Lang family has virtuous merit and will surely survive this trial safely. And now, has not this ominous formation already been broken?”

And the one who broke it seemed to be this young girl before them. Strange indeed—her face was unreadable.

Master Jingchi also looked at Lang Jiuchuan. When she turned her eyes on him—

Master Jingchi suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his eyes, hastily closing them and chanting a Buddhist prayer, shocked to his core.

Following Daoist Zhong’s gaze, Lang Zhengping grew pensive, rubbing his fingers together.

Lang Jiuchuan bent down to neaten Grandfather Lang’s disheveled hair. Out of sight of the others, a drop of blood seeped from her fingertip, swiftly drawing a sigil on his forehead. When the light of the sigil sank in, she straightened and said to Lang Zhengping:

“The auspicious hour is nearly past. Let us seal the coffin. It would be ill-fated to delay.”

Sealing the coffin was also a way of consoling the departed soul, not something to drag out. Other matters could only be set aside.

Lang Zhengping also knew priorities. He turned and bowed to the two monks and Daoists:

“We know nothing of these crooked arts. I do not know how such things should be dealt with, nor whether my father’s body must be re-prepared. Thus, I must trouble the two of you to preside over the sealing, so that my father may be laid to rest and comforted in spirit. When the mourning is done, I shall light the grandest Eternal Lamps for him at Cien Temple and Qinghua Monastery.”

“Immeasurable Celestial Worth.”

“Amitabha.”

With the two presiding, several more monks and Daoists were summoned, the mourning hall was put in order, and amidst ritual music the sealing of the coffin began. All filial sons withdrew outside to await.

Fan Shi’s face was full of unease. Twisting her hands, she leaned close to ask her husband:

“What just happened inside?”

Lang Zhengping shook his head: “I’ll explain later.”

Behind them, Cui Shi’s eyelids flickered but soon lowered again. She forcibly resisted turning her head toward Lang Jiuchuan.

When the sealing began, the wailing rose once more, for once the coffin lid shut, that person could never be seen again.

As the eldest legitimate son, Lang Zhengping himself drove in the final coffin nail, then fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground, weeping bitterly.

Not far off, others stood or knelt, watching in sorrow.

“To have a funeral handled like ours—there’s not another in the capital, I wager. If word spreads, our Marquis of Kaiping estate will be a laughingstock on everyone’s lips.” Lang Cailing murmured. How would they face people afterward?

Lang Caiguang tugged at his black mourning sash with careless indifference:

“So let them laugh. We’re in mourning and won’t be going out anyway. What, will they laugh for three years straight?”

The capital was never short of novelties. No matter how talked about, the gossip would soon be buried under fresher tales.

That said, such a scandal would surely have people whispering that their household lacked discipline, which would taint even their future marriage negotiations.

All the fault lay with Lang Jiuchuan—that troublemaker! She had just returned and already stirred up such storms.

Looking again at the culprit—she seemed absent-minded, even stifling a yawn.

Lang Cailing glared at Lang Jiuchuan. When the latter’s gaze met hers, she instinctively ducked behind Lang Cailing. Realizing her own reaction, she stamped her foot in frustration.

What was she afraid of?

Yet the memory of that string of eerie actions, and the earlier black mist like a dream, made her heart quail.

Lang Cailing shut her eyes, telling herself: I am not afraid. I am her elder sister—just letting her have her way a little.

Suddenly, commotion sounded from behind. Lang Cailing turned to see someone in white mourning clothes storming in with murderous air, attendants sweating as they tried to restrain him.

The man shoved aside those in his way, shouting madly:

“Out of my way! Lang Jiu, get out here!”