Chapter Forty-Eight: This Spirit Prevails Everywhere

What it means to be as fragile as glazed glass is something Lang Jiuchuan now deeply understands, for at this very moment, she was precisely that.

Seeing her hand hanging limply as if devoid of any supporting bones, Jiang Chi turned red with fury, casting a vicious glare at the reckless Madam Shen.

"She deserves to die!"

Lang Jiuchuan glanced at Madam Shen, who was throwing herself over Shen Peng. The woman had no attention left to spare for anything else except her son, displaying the typical frantic devotion of an affectionate mother.

This ought to be the proper attitude a mother should hold toward her own flesh and blood, rather than coldness and hostility.

Madam Shen paid her no mind, but Shen Qinghe did not. Seeing Lang Jiuchuan knocked to the ground by his wife, his expression shifted abruptly. He reached out to help her up, but upon catching sight of her wretched state, he let out a sharp gasp of air and shouted loudly, "Quickly, go fetch a doctor!"

Lang Jiuchuan’s wrist was fractured, and her forehead, having crashed against the leg of the shelf, was bruised bright red with an egg-sized lump swelling up, the skin slightly scraped.

How terribly fragile.

Seeing that her son had stopped raving and hearing her husband's startled cry, Madam Shen initially assumed he was worried about their boy. But noticing that his attention wasn't on the bed at all, she turned her head to look.

This...

Madam Shen turned as pale as a sheet. Just moments ago, it seemed she was the one who had shoved Lang Jiuchuan down. Was this miserable state, then, the result of her own "venomous hands"?

At this thought, she grew flustered and helpless, completely forgetting about her son. Clutching the corner of her dress, her voice trembled, "I, I didn't mean..."

She took two steps forward, wanting to help her up, yet not daring to touch her. She had perceived Lang Jiuchuan to be delicate, but she never imagined she would be fragile to this degree. She tried to recall if she had really used that much force.

"What are you standing there dazed for? Why aren't you helping the Ninth Lady up?" Shen Qinghe ordered the maidservants who were standing aside, equally dumbfounded.

Recovering their wits, the crowd hurried forward. Yet Lang Jiuchuan waved a hand, and right before everyone's eyes, she calmly snapped her dislocated wrist back into place.

*Crack.*

The spectators' eyelids twitched, a creeping chill washing over them as cold sweat broke out.

How ruthless. Truly ruthless.

Shen Qinghe's gaze darkened visibly.

Lang Jiuchuan stood up, massaged her wrist, and feeling the sharp pain on her forehead, reached up to touch it.

"Don't touch it! Old Mother Liao, go quickly and boil an egg, then fetch the muscle-knitting and bone-mending ointment. Send someone back to the estate for the Jade Complexion Cream, hurry!" Madam Shen gave a rapid succession of orders, then walked over to Lang Jiuchuan with an expression full of remorse. "I am truly sorry. I acted in a moment of panic and did not mean to collide with you. Rest assured, the Jade Complexion Cream can banish scars and marks; use as much as you need, I'll provide an endless supply."

A young maiden's appearance was of utmost importance. If Lang Jiuchuan were disfigured because of this, she would have a guilty conscience for the rest of her life.

Lang Jiuchuan observed her anxious expression and saw that the remorse on her face was not feigned, so she said, "I accept it."

Madam Shen: "?"

"Your apology."

Madam Shen was struck dumb, exchanging a glance with Shen Qinghe, asking silently with her eyes: What is wrong with her?

Having regained his senses, Shen Peng groaned in pain, *Is someone looking at me? It feels as though I've been gelded.*

Hearing the moans, the couple snapped out of their daze and turned back toward the bed, anxiously pressing, "Peng'er, how are you?"

"It hurts, it hurts so much." Shen Peng's voice was hoarse and trembling as his shaking hands drifted toward his groin.

Madam Shen burst into tears.

Fortunately, the accompanying physician was being dragged hurriedly into the room. Although Shen Qinghe was still mindful of Lang Jiuchuan and motioned for the doctor to examine her, Madam Shen—though inwardly frantic over her son's injuries—was somewhat in the wrong since Lang Jiuchuan's wounds were caused by her, and thus kept silent.

"Please examine your young master first." Lang Jiuchuan walked out of the room with exemplary understanding.

Jiang Chi was immensely astonished: "No way, you're just going to let her off like that? What happened to your disposition of 'rather kill someone else than let yourself suffer'—was that all fake?"

Lang Jiuchuan rubbed her wrist and replied, "It was merely an unintentional mishap. No need to make an issue of it."

At most, she would just demand more compensatory benefits later.

She walked over to the window. Beneath the towering Bodhi tree, an elderly monk clad in worn kasaya stood quietly at some unknown moment. His brows and eyes were benevolent; seeing her through the window, he offered a faint smile, brought his palms together, bowed slightly in greeting, and then turned to leave.

"I keep saying the spiritual energy of heaven and earth is insufficient, making it impossible for Buddhist and Daoist arts to reach their peak. This Cien Temple—aside from that abbot just now whose store of merit is somewhat substantial—couldn't even tell that you're a vicious ghost borrowing a corpse..."

Jiang Chi swallowed the word "ghost" back into his mouth, covering his furry snout with a paw. *She can't hear me.*

Lang Jiuchuan sneered: "How do you know he didn't see through it?"

"Ah? He saw through it?" That shouldn't be right. If he saw through it, why didn't he banish Lang Jiuchuan?

Lang Jiuchuan offered no reply. Was she going to admit to him that she had felt somewhat nervous just moments ago? After all, the other party's store of merit and magical power was quite formidable, leaving her with a lingering sense of guilt and the fear that he might perform rites of deliverance upon her.

The Buddhist sect, after all, was most fond of delivering ghosts.

Yet she was human.

Lang Jiuchuan stroked her weak, fluttering pulse, her voice dropping to an inaudible whisper: "Even half-dead, I am still human."

If he had truly attempted to ferry her away, she certainly would have fought him to the death.

"Ninth Lady."

Madam Shen walked forward, evidently having stepped out due to the taboos concerning men and women. Even as a mother, she had to withdraw while a physician examined her son's most private afflictions.

Approaching Lang Jiuchuan, she saw the scraped, blood-stained bump on her forehead and felt an even deeper pang of guilt, bowing once more. "I am deeply sorry for your injuries."

Lang Jiuchuan remarked, "They are merely minor injuries. It's of no consequence."

"Rest assured, I will compensate you for all medicinal decoctions." Madam Shen deliberated for a moment before asking, "My husband said you can save my son. May I ask, what degree of certainty do you have regarding the strange affliction plaguing him?"

"My certainty depends entirely on the price you are willing to pay," Lang Jiuchuan retorted. "For the sake of your young master, to what lengths are you parents prepared to go?"

"As a mother, I can willingly risk my life for my children," Madam Shen said, the corners of her eyes reddening. "I once prayed before the Buddhas that if I could trade for my son's safety, I would gladly shorten my life by ten years. From what I've just witnessed, however, that is still not enough. If it can make my son safe and sound, even taking this life of mine would be acceptable."

Lang Jiuchuan's eyes brightened slightly. "Do you truly agree to shorten your life by ten years?"

"Taking my whole life would be fine as well," Madam Shen said, her voice choking as she looked toward the bedchamber.

That was the precious child she had carried for ten months, bringing him into the world at the risk of losing half her life. He was the flesh of her heart, raised bit by bit—how could she bear to watch him die young from evil sorcery?

"There's no need to go that far; ten years will suffice." A decade of lifespan was a fine treasure, especially when it came from a benevolent person carrying genuine merit.

Lang Jiuchuan felt a stir of excitement.

Jiang Chi looked back and forth, muttering, "What kind of background does she have?"

"She is a benevolent person reincarnated, carrying boundless merit. This lifespan can solidly anchor my destiny." Lang Jiuchuan said with cheerful satisfaction.

Jiang Chi let out a dry scoff.

Even if it had been an unintentional mishap, she had still been knocked until her head was bloodied and her bones broken. Logically, given her vengeful nature, she should have been furious, yet she had chosen to let it go and not pursue the matter. He had foolishly thought she had changed her temperament to become so magnanimous, only to find out it was entirely due to the other person's identity.

This ghost truly reaped profit in every endeavor.