Chapter 35: A Wandering Ghost Must Be Struck Down

 Chapter 35: A Wandering Ghost Must Be Struck Down

Jiangche was fuming. It had gone through all that effort, huffing and puffing to sneak about like a thief, yet that woman stayed at home, busy tormenting it instead. If she wanted to die, fine—but why drag it down with her?

What exactly had she done to it? Did she not understand that their fates were bound together, one flourishing, both flourishing, one damaged, both damaged?

Lang Jiuchuan seized the talisman brush and pressed it against her spirit platform:

“Body of golden light, veil and protect me. Golden light, appear at once, guide the soul back to its palace. By command!”

A faint golden radiance flickered from the talisman brush. Her fragile soul drifted lightly back into her body. In an instant, she opened her hollow eyes, chest rising faintly, ears buzzing, limbs trembling.

So weak!

She needed nourishment.

Lying motionless on the ground, Lang Jiuchuan did not hesitate to snatch at Jiangche’s wish power.

Jiangche, who had just stabilized its divine consciousness: “!”

This bandit.

“I warn you, enough is enough!” Jiangche’s voice was dark and sinister inside the spirit platform.

Lang Jiuchuan replied weakly, “Just borrowing a little. I’ll return it next time.”

Returned? Ha! That would be the day.

“I must enter meditation to restore myself. Hurry back,” she said, and without another word to Jiangche, climbed into bed, shut her eyes, and sank her soul into meditation.

Jiangche: “…”

It was like punching into cotton—maddeningly frustrating.

......

Meanwhile, the stirrings in Lang Jiuchuan’s small room went unnoticed. On the other side, upon hearing Jianlan’s report, Cui Shi nearly suffered another heart attack.

Nanny Cheng hurried to soothe her: “Back when you were giving birth, things were already chaotic enough. You risked half your life then. Mistakes were bound to happen.”

Cui Shi waved her hand, shut her eyes, and could not utter a word.

Seeing this, Nanny Cheng sighed and spoke no further. A person caught in a dead end would only emerge if they themselves were willing. All the facts now lay plain; it was up to Cui Shi how she chose to see them.

If she truly refused to step out, then the bond between mother and daughter had already run its course.

After all, Lang Jiuchuan had already extended a choice. Otherwise, she would not have sent Jianlan with such an earnest reply.

Cui Shi turned her back, pressing her fist against her lips as tears slipped silently down her cheeks.

The quarrels between this mother and daughter of the second branch did not overly concern the Lang clan. But in the shadows, many outsiders who kept their eyes on the Lang family’s funeral noticed everything.

Five hundred li from Wujing, there lay an estate named Xunxianwu, nestled amid mountain and water. Spanning a hundred mu, shaped in the pattern of yin-yang and the Eight Trigrams, life energy flowed around it, serene and elegant.

In the main residence carved with dragons and phoenixes, a dignified noblewoman in a brocade gown of entwined flowers received a message from Wujing. Her brows knit tightly; grave-faced, she hurried to a secluded meditation courtyard.

Within the courtyard, a child in dark robes, after announcing her arrival, led her inside.

“What has you so flustered?”

Inside, a middle-aged man with his hair bound by a purple jade hairpin, wearing a purple robe embroidered with the Eight Trigrams, was reading a scripture. At his side lay turtle shells for divination. He glanced at her indifferently.

The noblewoman bowed respectfully before handing him the message. “Master, news from Wujing—the Ninth Young Miss of the Lang family has returned to the manor to attend the funeral.”

Lang Jiu? She had died beyond all doubt—how could she return?

The man blinked, took the slip, scanned it, then tossed it into a jade bowl of water without care. “Some wandering ghost borrowing a corpse for rebirth. No need for alarm.”

But the noblewoman frowned. “Yet I feel uneasy. What if…”

“What if what? Can you not tell whether it is a stray ghost or not?”

She fell silent, eyes flashing cold before lowering her head again, her expression calm, even gentle. “I overthought.”

Of course it was a ghost. The true soul had long since been captured—escape was impossible.

“Shall we see to matters with the Lang family?” she asked, feigning grief. “A mere wandering ghost clinging to the mortal realm defies Heaven’s law. To prevent calamity, it must be purged so the world may be cleansed.”

The man studied her for a long moment, until sweat gathered at her brow, then looked away with indifference. “Do as you see fit. The one who should die has disrupted the cycle of rebirth—her soul’s scattering is her own sin.”

Her eyes flickered. “Yes.”

“This need not be told to Xuan’er. He is at a critical moment,” he added.

“Rest assured. Such trifles will never reach him,” she replied quickly.

He waved her off, returning to his scripture. Yet his gaze lingered on the turtle shells, fingers brushing them before he shook his head. Too many were called Heaven’s favored, yet in truth, of their clan’s two hundred bloodlines, only one held a true Dao root, a destiny that could cleave demons and ascend the heavens. Pure coincidence.

He returned to his reading, absorbed.

Meanwhile, stepping out, the noblewoman paused, gazing toward a lush mountain. Her eyes softened, brimming with pride.

Her son—who could compare?

Turning west, her expression hardened, nails digging into her palm. No matter what wandering ghost it was, wearing that hateful face was an eyesore. It could not be allowed to remain.

No one could obstruct her son’s path—least of all that wretched girl.

Back in the main residence, as servants bowed, she sat down. Soon her trusted nanny entered, carrying a velvet box. The woman spared it a glance, unperturbed. “Who sent it?”

“The third branch’s young madam. She claims to have come upon fine ginseng and offers it for the young master’s health.” The nanny opened the box: a whole, pristine ginseng root bound with red thread.

The noblewoman was pleased. “She has more sense than the third sister-in-law of old.”

The nanny smiled slyly. “Who in the clan does not revere our young master? Only that arrogant fool—see where it got her? With an impure heart, she could not even bear a child… Forgive my tongue.”

The noblewoman said, “Send her one of Xuan’er’s talismans for protection.”

“The young madam will be overjoyed,” the nanny said with flattery.

The noblewoman, amused, waved her hand. “Enough. Go summon Fang Quan. I have tasks for him.”

The nanny’s heart skipped, but she dared not ask. She obeyed, stepping out to the corridor, muttering inwardly—who would be the unlucky one this time?