Chapter Twenty-One: Are you trying to hurry me to my grave?

A loud bang rang out.

The young Taoist priest screamed in pain as the filial rod struck his forearm, causing the coffin lid to slip from his grasp and crash to the ground with a tremendous noise.

As the heavy lid fell, a small splinter of wood was knocked loose and flew out, striking Lang Zhengping at the corner of his eye.

Seeing the wood clearly, Lang Zhengping’s knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, his face drained of color.

His father’s golden nanmu coffin had been carefully prepared for a long time, crafted from a single solid piece of golden nanmu wood. Now that the coffin lid was chipped, it was no longer perfect, and as his son, this was a grave disrespect.

And this disrespect was caused by Lang Jiuchuan’s wrongdoing.

Everyone was stunned by the scene, their eyes wide with shock.

They knew Lang Jiu was eccentric, but they hadn’t expected her to be this unruly—so difficult to deal with!

Madam Fan glanced sharply at her second brother's wife and bit her lip hard. “Second sister-in-law, my apologies.” Then she turned to her son and ordered, “Da Lang, you and your brothers quickly take your ninth sister away. Wu Shi, you lead people to guard the place.”

Madam Cui, who valued her face above all else, wished she could disappear into the ground.

Such a troublemaker wasn’t her child—there was no way it was! How dare she behave like this!

The sudden upheaval in the mourning hall shocked not only the Lang family but also the relatives and friends gathered in the courtyard to pay their respects, who all craned their necks, curious about what was happening inside.

Lang Caimeng and a few other men heard Madam Fan’s orders and charged forward, but though they were fast, Lang Jiuchuan was even swifter. In a single bound, she reached the coffin and grabbed the wrist of the Taoist priest with the characteristic mustache.

“What are you doing? What do you mean by this, Master Lang of the Lang family?” The priest panicked, cold sweat breaking out as the hand he was holding in pain was firmly gripped.

What a strange sight—this young girl with a frail, short-lived appearance possessed such strength that he could not break free.

“Ninth sister, you must not be disrespectful to the master,” Lang Caimeng said, feeling overwhelmed. This cousin of his was so stubborn—just like their late second uncle, a real headache.

But Lang Jiuchuan said, “You all came at just the right time. Hold this charlatan down. You, little brat, go outside and call in two monks and Taoists.”

Her body was truly weak; even holding down a charlatan was a struggle. Repairing her broken body had to be her top priority.

The little brat, Lang Caizhao, pointed at himself. “Village girl, why shout so blindly? I am Lang Caizhao, unchanged in name and nature.”

“Fine, don’t waste time. Go immediately.” Lang Jiuchuan shot him a glare.

Lang Caizhao took a few steps away but suddenly felt uneasy. Who was she, and why was he obeying so readily?

He wanted to turn back and argue, but seeing the chaos inside the hall and his father’s face swollen with rage, ready to strike anyone, he shrank his neck, deciding it was best not to linger and just hide out.

Though Lang Caimeng and the others hadn’t fully obeyed Lang Jiuchuan’s order to seize the priest, their numbers and positions effectively surrounded both her and the mustached Taoist.

The priest felt a flicker of unease and a trace of malice flashed through his eyes. He had only intended to complete his task, but this frail-looking girl had stirred up trouble. Having already taken care of the most important matters, he would not hesitate to act harshly.

The other hand hidden in his sleeve twitched as it reached toward Lang Jiuchuan’s wrist, feigning anger. “Master Lang, this is the Lang family’s way of handling things… Ah!”

Before he finished, a terrible scream escaped his lips as he fell backward, clutching his chest, trembling with terror as he stared at Lang Jiuchuan.

Lang Caimeng and the others exchanged puzzled looks.

They hadn’t even touched him.

“Look at his hand,” Lang Caiguang, the tenth brother of the third branch, said sharply, his face pale with fear.

Following his gaze, everyone saw the priest’s exposed right hand had turned completely black, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his face ghastly pale, and his temples hair visibly whitening.

In the blink of an eye, how had he changed so drastically?

Everyone instinctively looked toward Lang Jiuchuan and stepped back. What had she done?

She had clearly grabbed the priest’s hand, and now not only had he collapsed, but he looked like a living corpse. Had she poisoned him with some deadly toxin that caused instant aging?

Lang Zhengping pushed aside a few younger men and, seeing the priest’s state, his face changed dramatically. Spotting two other junior Taoists trying to flee, he immediately ordered, “Number Three, capture them.”

Lang Zhengwen called for the steward at once.

Lang Jiuchuan lifted her own wrist. To everyone’s eyes, the back of her pale hand showed a small scratch, as if made by a sharp object, bleeding slightly. But to her, that tiny wound glowed a dark, poisonous hue. A sinister energy seeped from the scratch into her body, racing up her wrist and spreading fiercely, causing her to shudder.

This charlatan had openly tried to harm her!

Lang Jiuchuan, looking as frail and short-lived as ever, knew that if an ordinary girl like her suffered such a wound infected with dark energy, she would fall ill and die long before the Lang family’s feng shui was thoroughly ruined.

“You want me to die faster, don’t you?” she smiled at the mustached Taoist.

Her smile seemed harmless to others, but to the priest, it was chilling—especially with the tearing agony in his chest that made him tremble with fear.

He had tried to harm her and succeeded—the coffin’s nails had pierced her hand, letting in the dark energy. She was doomed, but he had paid a terrible price in return.

It was a backlash.

And a swift, brutal one.

He could feel his cultivation retreating and vanishing, his body decaying, while she—

“How… how are you…” he stammered, completely unaffected?

Lang Jiuchuan wiped the blood from the scratch on her hand. How could she be fine? Her body was already crippled, and now with this new injury and dark energy, she was inviting trouble. She was very angry.

“What is going on?” Lang Zhengping saw the fresh wound on Lang Jiuchuan’s hand and said, “Da Lang, take some men to search Master Huang’s belongings.”

Though he had never seen such things before, he now sensed something was deeply wrong. A person aging rapidly under everyone’s watch was no ordinary matter.

Coupled with the earlier incident with the paper effigy’s eyes, it was clear someone was targeting the Lang family.

Madam Fan quickly said, “Better to send servants to investigate.”

The master had changed so suddenly—who knew what harm he’d endured? If he was poisoned, it might endanger her own son.

Madam Wu nodded anxiously. A wise man doesn’t stand beneath a dangerous wall; caution was best.

Everyone agreed silently and cast wary, scrutinizing glances at Lang Jiuchuan.

The priest had been conducting his duties well, but after Lang Jiuchuan stirred things up, the coffin sealing was forgotten. Seeing his eerie premature aging, people couldn’t help but wonder—had Lang Jiuchuan somehow cursed him?

“No need. I’ll handle it,” Lang Jiuchuan said, pressing her tongue against her cheek and smiling as she stepped forward.