Chapter 28 There Is Always Someone Blind Enough to Covet Me...

"A woman? Why is it a woman, and such a frail, wind-blown weakling at that?"

Lang Jiuchuan had heard these words repeatedly throughout her journey. She watched the ball of white mist as it constantly shifted shape—now twisting into a line, now swelling into a sphere—muttering the same phrase over and over as if locked in some internal hesitation.

It did not move, and Lang Jiuchuan chose to act as if she were unaware of its existence, her fingers never leaving the Imperial Bell hanging at her waist. She did not know the origin of this spirit, but she could smell a scent akin to her own upon it; therefore, she could not afford to be careless.

Indeed, the white mist was no mere cloud; it was a wandering consciousness. Lang Jiuchuan believed that one should never ignore that which they cannot identify, especially given the state of her current body. It had followed her all the way to the Lang estate, and only upon reaching her courtyard did it seem to have made up its mind.

"A woman is a woman. At the very least, she is my turning point; I cannot afford to pass this up." The consciousness stared at Lang Jiuchuan, squeezing the words through gritted teeth: "A great tiger can be firm or soft; naturally, it can be male or female. As long as I don't speak, who is to know my gender?"

What?

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyelids twitched. She snapped her head up just as the spirit surged toward her with lightning speed.

*Hum.*

A sharp pain pierced Lang Jiuchuan’s soul, nearly knocking it completely out of her body. The spirit struck with brute force, attempting to seize her spiritual altar and shove her soul out entirely. It was overbearing and savage.

Lang Jiuchuan let out a bitter, mocking laugh. So that was it. She had wondered what it wanted; it turned out it was lamenting that she was a woman, hesitating to seize such a ruined vessel. The little ghost in the funeral hall had been the same, and now this stranger was no different.

Truly, there was always someone blind to the truth lusting after her body!

"Miss..." Xiaoman entered carrying a pot of tea.

Lang Jiuchuan’s voice was icy: "Get out!"

Startled by the sudden eruption of rage, Xiaoman set the tea down, scrambled out, and pulled the door shut behind her, clutching her pounding heart as she hurried away.

Inside the room, Lang Jiuchuan gripped the Imperial Bell, her voice cold and grim: "Either you crawl out yourself, or I will beat you out!"

Hearing this, the spirit—which had been struggling to claim territory—shivered like a cat with its fur standing on end. "You can see me? You’ve been watching me mutter to myself this whole time?"

"Don't make me say it a third time. Get out of my body!"

The spirit let out a scoff. "This body is my turning point. Once I seize it, I can make a comeback." It paused, then sneered, "Besides, you’re an outsider yourself. This body wasn't yours to begin with, so it’s survival of the fittest."

***

Survival of the fittest, indeed!

Lang Jiuchuan’s gaze turned frigid. She shook the Imperial Bell, and a long, resonant chime rang out—a sound laden with boundless Daoist intent that swept through the room, striking directly at the heart and soul.

Under the impact of the chime, the spirit—which was just about to take root in her altar—stiffened and began to dissipate. Pain, like a million needles of hellfire, pierced it through and through, leaving it riddled with holes.

"Ah, you lunatic woman!" the spirit shrieked in agony. Instead of retreating, its indomitable nature was ignited. It dug in even harder, snarling, "If I suffer, you won't have an easy time either!"

The wispy, mist-like spirit not only burrowed into the spiritual altar but began to surge throughout her entire body.

Lang Jiuchuan’s face turned deathly pale. She cursed under her breath, pouring her intent into the Imperial Bell. The chimes vibrated in layers, drilling into the altar like a demonic melody, battering the spirit.

It was a battle of wills. Whoever flinched would lose; whoever exposed a weakness would be defeated. Lang Jiuchuan never ceased the chiming, and the spirit, refusing to yield, fought back with equal ferocity. Yet, facing such a ruthless woman, it was shocked.

It had taken root in her spiritual altar, only to realize upon entering that this body was already a ruined husk, broken in many places. The only reason she appeared whole and sound was because Lang Jiuchuan was maintaining it with sorcery. Now, as they battled, the sorcery faltered: her dark, hollow eyes fell limply to the floor, her limbs hung in eerie, unsupported angles, and the gaping hole in her chest was laid bare.

The spirit: "!"

It was a sight too gruesome to behold.

"You dead woman, stop it!" the spirit bellowed.

This madwoman! It was true she played the bell well, but she wasn't looking at where she was striking. She was hitting it, sure, but it was currently inside her body. If it was suffering, how could the body fare any better? She was inside it too; wouldn't she be the one suffering the most? This was clearly a tactic of harming the enemy a thousand times while damaging oneself eight hundred, yet this lunatic didn't care at all.

Lang Jiuchuan acted as if she hadn't heard. Her complexion was that of a corpse, yet she continued to drive the Imperial Bell, attempting to scatter the vast power of vows the spirit possessed.

So, it was the power of vows. This thing actually possessed the power of vows. She craved it, attempting to steal a sliver, but the golden light scorched her so badly that her soul nearly drifted out of her body.

Lang Jiuchuan’s soul was already incomplete. Facing such a fierce opponent now, the pain only intensified. She could not lose. She had already died once; to die again so soon—did she have no dignity? This wasn't some endless death game.

***

Lang Jiuchuan released the Imperial Bell. Just as the spirit thought it had won, she withdrew her jade-bone talisman brush—the Judge's Brush.

She held the brush, rapidly painting a talisman on her palm. A golden light erupted, and she slammed it viciously against her own forehead.

One talisman to settle the world.

The spirit let out a miserable scream; finally terrified, it retreated from her spiritual altar.

*Thump.*

Lang Jiuchuan, unable to hold on any longer, collapsed to the floor. Her soul was so faint it was on the verge of dispersing, so she jabbed the talisman brush into her forehead.

Soul-sealing.

"You, you crazy harridan!" The spirit was even weaker than her. It wrapped itself in the faint golden light of its vows, pointing at Lang Jiuchuan, who lay gasping for air on the ground. "You’re so ruthless—what good does it do you, huh?"

Lang Jiuchuan opened her mouth and spat out a mouthful of black blood. She wiped her mouth, a dirty, mocking smile forming on her lips. "It’s my body. If I want to seize it, I seize it. Did you ask me? At worst, we die together."

The spirit was so angry it nearly dissipated. Damn it, was this the legendary type of lunatic who was so vicious she even terrified herself?

Regardless of its rage, the spirit didn't want to run. It needed this turning point; it was its only hope for survival. It said, "If you had said you could see me earlier, we wouldn't have ended up in this mutually destructive mess. We can talk things over, can't we?"

"I don't know you!"

The spirit restrained itself, forcing a weak smile. "Well, we can consider this an acquaintance through conflict."

Lang Jiuchuan said airily, "A defeated opponent."

*Ah*, it wanted to fight her to the death. But catching sight of her talisman brush and the Imperial Bell, it held back. Sensing the subtle, hidden movements of this madwoman, it weighed its options and transferred a sliver of its vow power to her.

Lang Jiuchuan accepted it without ceremony. Nothing could compare to the feeling of rain after a long drought; indeed, the power of vows and merit were potent tonics! However, that stingy wretch stopped the flow.

Seeing her eyes redden with irritation, the spirit gave a wicked grin. "Want more? Now can we talk properly?"