Chapter 5: Unwelcome

The Lang family felt that after being "exiled" for over a decade, this person should have returned home with her head down, acting cautiously and low-key. Yet, this Ninth Miss of their family seemed to have grown thorns all over her body like a hedgehog; no matter who it was, she would snap at them.

First, she lashed out at the servant women and insulted the entire family, then she turned her fury on her cousins. How did she dare? Who gave her such courage?

Was she relying on the fact that she was the sole heir of the Second Branch?

Regardless of what she was relying on, the bottom line was that the Lang family was about to deal with a real troublemaker.

Lang Jiuchuan: *Fine, I am the stick, and you are all the shit.*

She cast a faint glance toward Lang Cailing, who was too intimidated by Lang Caimeng's bloodline to speak up, but was instead using her eyes to shoot piercing blades of fury at her.

*Go on, bite me!*

Lang Cailing understood the lip movement perfectly. Enraged, she clenched her fists and shot her a venomous glare.

The younger ones, observing this silent battle of wits, exchanged secret glances and then looked toward Lang Jiuchuan.

She was so arrogant—and so rustic.

Look at her: dressed in mourning clothes, wearing a pair of ill-fitting black cloth shoes, and devoid of any accessories. Since it was a period of great mourning, that was understandable, but while they all wore exquisite silver ornaments in their hair, what about her?

Her jet-black hair was merely braided into a single plait hanging over her left chest, and the thing tying the braid was nothing more than a dingy black strip of cloth?

The Lang juniors showed traces of disdain.

*So provincial.*

What they didn't know was that when Lang Jiuchuan had crawled out of that mass grave, she had long since lost her shoes; those black cloth shoes had been snatched off a corpse at random. As for her hair, it was, naturally, tied up haphazardly.

Furthermore, as soon as she emerged from the woods and before she could even reach the Lang family manor, people from the estate had come to fetch her. Without even letting her enter the manor, they had stuffed her into a carriage to rush back to the capital for the funeral.

Lang Jiuchuan sat kneeling on a straw mat, having no intention of conversing with the Lang family. Her mind hadn't even processed the information she had just obtained; instead, she was enduring the pain and hunger radiating from her internal organs.

Her body was riddled with holes. Not only did it need mending, but it also required merit to nourish it so that flesh could grow over bone and her soul could be stabilized, allowing her to search for her other two soul fragments and her past.

Currently, relying solely on mystical arts to maintain the "normal" Lang Jiuchuan in the eyes of others was extremely draining. If she slipped up for even a moment, she would likely scare this entire large family to death.

She was truly relying on merit to prolong her life.

Once again, she cursed the Judge of the Underworld and his eighteen generations. If she had possessed a healthy, intact body, how could she have come to this?

Suddenly, Lang Jiuchuan raised her head and looked toward the Phoebe zhennan wood coffin, her eyes brightening slightly.

Strands of merit and providence were slowly drifting from the coffin toward her. It was thin, but better than nothing.

This was the protection of her ancestors.

It was the vast merit accumulated by the Old Master of the Lang family and his forebears back in the North, where they had fought the Xiongnu to protect the people. Now, a share of this providence belonged to her as a daughter of the Lang family.

Feeling the nourishment of that merit and providence, Lang Jiuchuan let out a long sigh.

A pity it was so thin; otherwise, she would certainly have received much better nourishment.

It was all because the Lang family lacked descendants capable of following in the ancestors' footsteps, causing the clan to decline like a setting sun, to the point where even this providence was nearly dissipated.

Lang Jiuchuan cast a dissatisfied glance at the people beside her. *Useless.*

The skin of the two whispering juniors tightened. "?"

What did that look mean?

Was she looking down on us?

Heh, this village girl—if the occasion weren't so inappropriate and her eldest brother weren't here to keep things in check, they would have definitely taught her a lesson.

The two exchanged a look. If they weren't going to teach her a lesson, maybe they could play a little trick?

Just as the thought arose, the entrance darkened, and they immediately suppressed their mischievous intentions.

The Second Aunt was coming. No matter how much she loathed this cousin, she was her only child; who knew if she would be fiercely protective?

As Lady Cui walked in, her footsteps faltered slightly. Her gaze swept over Lang Jiuchuan before she moved past her as if nothing had happened, walking to another spot to sit kneeling at a considerable distance.

Everyone saw this and raised an eyebrow. It had been over ten years, and Lady Cui still held the same mindset. There would certainly be a good show to watch in the future.

Lang Cailing, who had just had an unpleasant encounter with Lang Jiuchuan, gave a contemptuous smile. So what if she was the only bloodline of the Second Branch? She was still an outcast.

She looked toward Lang Jiuchuan, hoping to see a look of loss, but instead, she saw the girl stand up and walk toward the coffin. Her eyes widened in shock.

What kind of madness is this village girl up to now?

(End of Chapter)