Love Beyond the Grave

The north wind howled bleakly, the winter air was harsh, and Liangzhou City was as silent as death.

Perhaps the word "as" should be omitted.

At this moment, Liangzhou City was strewn with corpses, rivers of blood flowing through its streets, the stench of gore filling the air. The city resembled a massive grave, where even the sound of breathing seemed too loud.

A crow flew in from the distance, landing on a rooftop. Its hoarse caw tore through the silent night, followed by a second, a third, a fourth... They came in flocks, darkening the sky as they descended upon the city, perching on its streets and alleys, stepping atop the piles of bodies that filled every corner.

It was unclear which crow had just landed when a pair of light apricot-colored cloth shoes stepped onto the main street of Liangzhou City, instantly stained mottled with blood.

The owner of the shoes was a young woman in white robes, appearing to be around seventeen or eighteen years old. Against the bleak, blood-red backdrop, she stood out like a white lotus blooming in a pool of blood.

In her hand, she twirled a jade pendant by its cord with her index finger, the pendant emitting a faint blue glow.

"Looks like a massacre..." Her tone was remarkably indifferent.

An ordinary girl would likely faint at such a gruesome and terrifying sight, but unfortunately, He Simu was no ordinary girl.

She was an Evil Ghost.

When humans died with unresolved obsessions and unfulfilled wishes, they became Wandering Souls, unable to pass on. After a century of preying on each other, these Wandering Souls gave birth to Evil Ghosts.

Evil Ghosts fed on humans.

He Simu, as it happened, was an Evil Ghost here to hunt.

The night was pitch black, so dark one couldn't see their own hand. The city was filled with corpses piled upon corpses. Yet He Simu moved without hindrance, nimbly stepping between the bodies, always finding the perfect gap to place her foot. Unfortunately, after just six steps, someone grabbed her ankle.

"Save... save..."

He Simu looked down to see a man clutching her foot, his stomach slashed open, flesh hanging out. His face was too bloodied to make out his features, his eyes already glazed over, but he trembled as he pointed weakly to one side.

"Save... my son... save... Chen Ying..."

He Simu glanced in the direction he pointed. There lay a child of about seven or eight, buried under several corpses, only a pale little face visible. He was still faintly breathing but unconscious, likely having passed out from his injuries.

She turned her gaze back to the disheveled, dying man and said, "Your son is in better shape than you. You're the one about to die."

"Save..." The man seemed deaf to her words, stubbornly pleading.

He Simu crouched down, resting her hands on her knees, meeting the dying man's eyes at his level. "I'll eat you, then save your son. Do you agree? Think carefully—those devoured by Evil Ghosts lose a wisp of their Soul Fire. In their next life, they'll face endless misfortunes, and it may take many reincarnations to recover."

The man seemed to ponder dazedly for a moment before understanding her meaning. His muddy eyes widened in horror, his hands trembling.

"Not willing?" He Simu tilted her head.

The man trembled for a while, tears welling in his eyes. Softly, he whispered, "...I... agree..."

He Simu narrowed her eyes, smiling with a hint of pity. "Good."Then she decisively grabbed the man's hair, forcing him to tilt his head back before sinking her sharp canine teeth deep into his neck. Blood gushed out instantly, splattering across He Simu's face. The jade pendant in her hand flared brightly before dimming again.

The man's hands, which had been clutching her right foot, fell limp into the pool of blood. A glowing orb rose from his body, slowly ascending into the pitch-black night sky.

Humans originally possessed three clusters of Soul Fire—one atop each shoulder and one at the crown of the head. At death, these merged into one, rising like a lantern into the sky, a shooting star in reverse—this was the death only Evil Ghosts could witness.

High-ranking Evil Ghosts like He Simu fed specifically on the Soul Fire from the crown of a human's head.

With one cluster missing, the man's departing soul-light was noticeably dimmer than others'. To suffer for multiple lifetimes for the sake of a single lifetime's familial bond—wasn't that a losing bargain? Yet mortals stubbornly insisted on making such unprofitable deals.

He Simu released her grip without hesitation. The man's heavy body thudded onto the ground with a dull crash. As the sound echoed, the first light of dawn appeared, diluting the impenetrable darkness. It seemed sunrise was approaching, and crows began cawing restlessly all around.

Clapping her hands clean, she stepped over the haphazardly strewn corpses and followed the blood trail left by the crawling man toward where his son lay.

Truth be told, given He Simu's power, she could have simply devoured the man without any resistance. But ghosts who reached her level always had their own principles. He Simu held deep respect for her prey and always upheld equivalent exchange—her word was absolute.

When she stopped before the pile of torsos, she reached out to lift the corpse that had fallen across the child. Unexpectedly, the body's neck wound caused its head to detach completely when she pulled, sending the bloody torso crashing back onto the child.

The impact made the little boy's face turn several shades paler.

He Simu found herself rather exasperated, holding a grimy severed head while frowning at its wide-eyed, terrified death expression.

"The Great Liang army has arrived!" A shout came from the distant city gates—an aged voice that seemed to pour every ounce of remaining strength into those words, trembling and nearly tearing.

From afar came the clamor of voices and hoofbeats. The overwhelming vitality of living beings scattered the deathly aura like a storm. Joyful weeping arose around them as survivors began emerging sporadically from hiding places, gathering in grief along the long street.

The city gates at the street's end slowly opened. Daylight broke through as morning light appeared, revealing countless hooves and military boots marching into the blood-soaked streets—an endless, mighty procession.

He Simu turned her gaze and immediately spotted the man leading the troops.

He appeared remarkably young, still a youth, riding a tall white horse clad in silver armor as he advanced into the gradually brightening dawn. The young man had a tall, lean yet sturdy build, with prominent brow bones and a straight nose bridge. His slightly upturned almond-shaped eyes shone with extraordinary clarity and brightness.

This was an exceptionally handsome youth of noble bearing.

He came riding toward the morning sun like a blade cleaving through darkness.

This was He Simu's first sight of Duan Xu—as dawn broke and all things awakened, an auspicious hour indeed, though lacking in beautiful scenery. After all, she stood amidst corpses strewn across the land, surrounded by wailing, grief-stricken commoners, still holding a dead man's severed head in her hand.The young man's gaze swept over the devastation in the city, his brow slightly furrowing as he looked up and scanned the long street into the distance.

He Simu, covered in blood, was no different from the surviving civilians and didn't draw the young man's attention. She tossed aside the head in her hand and studied him intently.

—To be precise, He Simu was examining the slender black sword at his waist, its hilt and scabbard adorned with silver carvings.

Evil Ghosts had excellent vision, allowing her to discern every detail of the sword at a glance. It looked so familiar—where had she seen it before?

After searching through her long memory, it suddenly dawned on her. Wasn't this the Illusion-Piercing Spirit Sword forged by her uncle over three hundred years ago when he was still alive?

The Illusion-Piercing Sword was second only to the Buzhou Sword among spirit swords, embodying benevolence, and was highly coveted by immortal sects. This young man seemed like an ordinary little general, not someone who cultivated immortality—how could he possess the Illusion-Breaking Sword?

"General! You've finally come to save us!" A wailing man rushed out from He Simu's right, bumping into her and causing her to stumble. Watching the man kneel and kowtow by the roadside, He Simu glanced at the grieving or overjoyed survivors around her and realized she stood out awkwardly.

Should she at least cry a little?

After a brief thought, she bit her tongue hard, forcing tears from the body she possessed.

With tear-filled eyes and a smile as if seeing a savior, she lifted her skirt, pushed past the kneeling man, and ran straight to the young man's horse, shouting, "General! The Hú Qì People slaughtered the city before retreating! Countless are dead or wounded—have you come to save us?"

The young man reined in his horse, and the soldiers behind him halted. Surveying the surrounding civilians, his face bore an uncharacteristic calm for his age as he clearly stated, "I am Duan Xu, commander of the Great Liang Snow-Treading Army. The enemy has retreated north of the Guan River. Today, Liangzhou is restored to Great Liang."

After a pause, he added, "As long as I am here, the Hú Qì People will never set foot in Liangzhou again."

The survivors erupted in cries of mixed sorrow and joy. He Simu joined in with a few shouts, feigning deep grief, and reached out to tug at the young man's sleeve.

His guards instantly moved to draw their blades, but He Simu trembled, her eyes reddening, prompting the young man to wave them off. He then took a handkerchief from his pocket, bent down, and handed it to her. "Wipe the blood away."

His fingers were long and pale, the blue veins starkly visible—clearly once the hands of nobility, though now marred by bruises and weathered by hardship.

He Simu, still teary-eyed, took the handkerchief and deliberately brushed her fingers against his hand. As she lowered her head, a hint of amusement flickered in her eyes.

Indeed, possessing a beautiful, delicate girl was the right choice—a pitiful sob softened hearts, earning not just tolerance but even a handkerchief.

But when she had checked his pulse earlier, she confirmed he was an ordinary man with no spiritual power at all. Strange—how could the Illusion-Breaking Sword willingly obey such a person? Was he truly its master?

Lost in thought, He Simu suddenly felt her vision blurring. Not good , she thought—the body she possessed was about to faint. Frantic, she pointed at a child among the pile of corpses and cried out, "Save that child for me!"Then she saw her own body tilt and collapse softly before the young general's horse.

...The downside of possessing such a delicate young girl was that the body was far too fragile—missing just one night's sleep was enough to make it faint.

He Simu detached from the body, floating midair with her arms crossed as she sighed.

Naturally, no one could see He Simu hovering above them. The young general glanced down at the pitiful girl collapsed before his horse and said to an adjutant beside him, "Take her away and see to her care."

After a pause, he added coolly, "Pass down the order: today, we'll reorganize military affairs within the city. Apart from those needed for city defense, the rest are to assist survivors. Anyone caught looting or taking advantage of the chaos will face military punishment!"

The adjutant acknowledged the command, and He Simu watched as several soldiers lifted the unconscious body and carried it away. Casually following behind them, she pulled a Bright Pearl from her sleeve and called, "Feng Yi."

The pearl was about the size of a pigeon's egg, crystal-clear and glowing faintly, with tiny runes faintly etched across its surface. Soon, a man's voice came from within the pearl—he sounded as if he had just woken up, lazily yawning.

"What a rare guest, Old Ancestor! The sun's barely up—what brings you to me at this hour?"

Ignoring his complaint, He Simu went straight to the point. "Look into someone for me. Someone from the imperial court."

"Since when are you interested in court affairs? Who is it?"

"The one wielding the Illusion-Breaking Sword."

The man on the other end fell silent for a moment before responding in surprise, "The Illusion-Breaking Sword has reappeared? What's the sword-bearer's name?"

"His name is..." He Simu narrowed her eyes, glancing back at the young general's retreating figure.

That was an excellent question.

What was his name again?

The moment she had seen him, all she had noticed were the glaring words "Illusion-Breaking Sword" hovering over him. As for his actual name... she hadn't paid attention.

Perhaps being dead for too long had made her grow indifferent to remembering such things.

The man in the pearl seemed to guess that He Simu hadn't caught the name, bursting into laughter. The sound of splashing water suggested he was washing up.

"Never mind his name—what do you plan to do once you find him? Take the sword for yourself?"

"Why would I want the Illusion-Breaking Sword? I'm not cultivating immortality."

The young man's white-robed figure gleamed brilliantly under the sunlight. After a moment's thought, He Simu said, "I suppose I'm just bored. It's been decades since I last took a break—might as well find something amusing to do. If the Grand Preceptor isn't too busy lately, why not humor me?"

"Ah, Old Ancestor, you flatter me. Just get me the name, and I'll dig up everything for you."

The pearl flickered before dimming once more.

The man on the other end, Hejia Fengyi, was the twentieth-generation descendant of her granduncle who had died over three hundred years ago—a Mars Calamity Star skilled in curses. Now concealing his true identity, he had climbed his way up to the position of Grand Preceptor in the imperial court.

Calculating the generations, though she could be considered Feng Yi's ancestor, the relation was so distant—eighteen bends in the family tree—that their continued closeness was likely due to her pestering him relentlessly since his childhood.

Tucking the pearl back into her sleeve, He Simu looked up at the sky. The sun had fully risen now, its bright rays so dazzling that even the pools of blood on the ground shimmered brilliantly.She walked through the crowds of weeping, grieving, furious people searching for loved ones and collecting bodies, her hands clasped behind her back with unhurried steps, utterly at ease—like an uninvited guest passing through this mortal realm.

The world suffered calamity, yet heaven smiled—a cloudless sky stretched above.

The joys and sorrows of all things are never shared. Even the wild grasses, long parched by drought and now watered with blood, likely considered this a fine day.