Love Beyond the Grave

In the dark and winding mountain path, Duan Xu and Han Lingqiu led their troops swiftly toward the crucial supply route behind the Hulan Army's lines.

The mountain trail was damp and slippery, yet Duan Xu maintained a brisk pace—already a restrained speed for him. Han Lingqiu matched him effortlessly. They had selected only the fastest soldiers, and the entire unit moved like the wind.

Duan Xu could feel the repeated glances from behind him and remarked leisurely, "I'm quite exhausted. Would Captain Han care to exchange a few words to keep me awake?"

Han Lingqiu stammered a denial, but his tense, rigid posture was unmistakable. Duan Xu turned back with a sigh. "Are you still worried I’m a spy? That I’ll abandon you all to the Huqi People and leave you with no way back?"

"This subordinate… harbors no such thoughts."

"But Captain Han originally came from Danzhi. If you surrendered to the Huqi People, wouldn’t it be like a fish returning to water? Wouldn’t that be far more convenient?"

Duan Xu pressed this treasonous accusation onto Han Lingqiu, who naturally refused to accept it and immediately pushed back.

"I never concealed my origins from Wu Lang Jiang or the Treading White. I remember nothing of my time in Danzhi. From the moment I was saved by a Han couple and brought to Great Liang, I have been a man of Great Liang."

"You simply don’t remember. But what if you had a wife, children, or parents back in Danzhi? Could you still claim to be a man of Great Liang without hesitation?" Duan Xu deftly pinned the accusation back on him.

Han Lingqiu fell silent for a moment before struggling to respond. "General, I was only fourteen when I came to Great Liang."

What wife or children could a fourteen-year-old have? His body, covered in old and new scars, hardly suggested he had ever known parental love.

"Even without family, what if you were once as close to the Huqi People as He Yan was? Or if you had been utterly devoted to them, working for their cause?" Duan Xu pressed relentlessly.

"I don’t want to remember the past. As far as I’m concerned, the person I was before is dead."

"And if one day you do remember? What then?"

"That would be someone else’s life—not Han Lingqiu’s." With that, Han Lingqiu finally shook off the accusation Duan Xu had thrust upon him.

He didn’t realize that what had begun as his own suspicion of Duan Xu had been turned around, forcing him into a debate to prove his own loyalty.

Duan Xu laughed heartily and dropped the subject, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Lightly, he said, "Don’t be so tense. I just wanted to get closer to you, to talk a little more."

…No one had ever used this kind of topic to get closer to someone.

As they whispered and hurried onward, the mountain path soon reached its end, brightening ahead. At the exit stood massive boulders covered in moss. Concealed behind them, they could look down upon the winding official road below.

The road was indeed in poor condition, seemingly neglected for years—likely a relic from the previous dynasty, never repaired even after Danzhi seized the land, as if they couldn’t be bothered to govern properly.

Duan Xu positioned his troops behind the boulders and sent scouts to survey the situation. He ordered his soldiers into formation, instructing them to wait until the enemy convoy reached the foot of the mountain. He would first shoot the captain dead, then have archers take down seventy to eighty percent of the enemy before charging from the left flank to scatter the supply wagons.

"Target the grain carts. Don’t get bogged down in battle." Duan Xu repeated the order again and again.No sooner had the words been spoken than the scout reported the appearance of the grain convoy. Duan Xu promptly asked a soldier for a crossbow, nocked an arrow onto the bolt channel, and raised the weapon, using one arm as a brace. He leaned forward slightly, squinting as he aimed through the calibrated sight.

The boulder was still some distance from the main road, and a strong wind was blowing. Even for an excellent marksman, hitting a moving rider would have been difficult. The second wave of arrows only needed to cover the general area—quantity was the priority.

But the shot Duan Xu was about to take required a single, lethal strike.

Han Lingqiu grew uneasy and was about to suggest taking over when, amidst the biting wind, Duan Xu pulled the trigger without so much as a blink.

The arrow tore through the air with a sharp, whistling sound, flying straight and swift before piercing the eye of the Huqi rider leading the convoy.

The Huqi man’s head exploded in an instant. With a bloodcurdling scream, he toppled from his horse, sending the Danzhi soldiers escorting the grain into a frenzy.

Duan Xu grinned and raised his hand. "Fire."

A rain of arrows descended, and the enemy’s screams filled the air. Yet Han Lingqiu could only stare blankly at Duan Xu, the image of that arrow piercing the eye lingering in his mind.

Duan Xu had a habit of aiming for the eyes when shooting.

Familiar scenes flashed through Han Lingqiu’s mind, exploding into a headache, but Duan Xu merely said, "What are you standing around for, Han Xiaowei? It’s time to move."

With a push against the rock wall, he leaped down nimbly, drawing the Illusion-Breaking Sword from his waist. Twirling it in both hands, he swiftly cut down enemies in a spray of blood. The few surviving Danzhi soldiers were quickly dispatched, and they secured the grain carts.

Han Lingqiu was a step slower. By the time he reached Duan Xu’s side, the latter suddenly tensed and shoved him aside.

An arrow grazed Duan Xu’s arm, leaving a long gash. A Great Liang soldier standing between them wasn’t as lucky—the arrow pierced him clean through, and he collapsed slowly.

Duan Xu looked up. From the opposite mountain emerged a group of Huqi warriors, bows drawn and swords at the ready, surrounding them from above. There were thousands of them, a dark mass like storm clouds closing in.

After a moment of silence, Duan Xu chuckled. "Ah, so the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. We’ve walked into a trap."

How unfortunate. It almost seemed as if he had led them straight into the Huqi’s clutches, like throwing meat to a pack of dogs.

The Huqi leader stood atop the cliff, reprimanding the archer in their tongue before gesturing toward Duan Xu and Han Lingqiu. He then drew a flat hand horizontally through the air.

The signal was clear: Duan Xu and Han Lingqiu were to be taken alive—everyone else was to be slaughtered.

Duan Xu glanced at Han Lingqiu before slowly turning back to the encircling Huqi. He adjusted his grip on the sword, blood from his wounded arm dripping down the blade, tracing the character for "break."

Just as the character began to glow faintly, an unexpected voice echoed through the valley, repeating the same message in both Chinese and Huqi.

"Hold."

It was a low, measured woman’s voice, abruptly diffusing the tension.

Above the main road, beneath the cliff, in the bright daylight and howling northern wind, a cluster of azure flames burst into existence. The eerie fire burned fiercely without any visible fuel, utterly unperturbed by the gale.From the flames sprouted white threads, cocooning the fire layer by layer until it transformed into a jade-like hexagonal palace lantern with hollowed-out ice-crack patterns. From the lantern's top grew a slender locust wood handle, black and glossy.

Gradually, the figure of a woman materialized atop the lantern handle. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, her left hand caressing the eerie ghost fire while her right rested on her knee. She wore a magnificent red-and-white triple-layered robe, the outermost rust-red garment embroidered with flowing cloud honeysuckle patterns. Her long hair cascaded to her waist, tied with a red ribbon.

In stark contrast to her opulent attire, her complexion was deathly pale, with only the small mole beside her phoenix eyes standing out starkly black. Truly, her skin was like ice and bones like jade—utterly lifeless.

At night, she carries a lantern to guide the living.

By day, she bears a light to lead the dead.

The woman smiled faintly and addressed the Huqi soldiers on the mountainside in their tongue: "I am but an Evil Ghost, with no desire to meddle in your affairs. However, I just indulged my hunger by consuming the young brother you shot dead. He begged me to save these Great Liang soldiers, and I agreed."

The soldier who had been pierced through by a Huqi arrow lay in a pool of blood, faint tooth marks visible on his neck.

Tilting her head slightly, she continued, "Brave warriors of Danzhi, might you grant this Evil Ghost some face and let them go?"

Both those above and below wore expressions of sheer terror—as if seeing a ghost in broad daylight. Indeed, they truly were seeing one. The world fell into silence as most rubbed their eyes, doubting what they saw, unable to immediately respond to her words.

Duan Xu, however, stared unblinkingly at the unfamiliar female ghost hovering in the air, pressing his lips together before calling out, "He Xiaoxiao."

The ghost didn't even glance at him, as though unaware of whom he addressed.

Duan Xu chuckled. "Stop pretending."

The ghost seemed to let out a soft scoff before slowly turning her head. A black crow alighted on her shoulder, followed by a dark rain of countless crows descending upon the mountainside, their beady eyes peering everywhere. Not a single crow cawed—the silence was unnerving.

Her pitch-black eyes, devoid of any white, blinked as she smiled. "Who dares bully you now? Never thought our little fox would stumble so badly."

The Huqi soldiers finally snapped out of their shock, clearly unnerved by the eerie spectacle. After a rustling murmur, their leader shouted, "The Azure God protects us! How dare you heathens play at—"

Before he could utter "ghost," He Simu softly shushed him. Blue ghost fire suddenly engulfed his body, and with a scream, he was reduced to charred bones that crumbled to the ground.

Shifting her gaze, He Simu smiled in Huqi. "Did you truly think I was negotiating? If you couldn't recognize me in life, death will teach you."

In this coldly beautiful true form, she exuded an aura entirely unlike He Xiaoxiao's—all traces of laziness and playfulness stripped away. Even her smile was fierce, arrogant, and impatient, like a blade that would cut at a mere glance.

Realizing the dire situation, the Huqi soldiers finally broke, crying out about the Azure God's Calamity as they fled the sinister scene, scattering the crows in their panic.Duan Xu turned his head to see the dazed soldiers of Great Liang beside him, as if trapped in some illusion, standing motionless on the spot. After a moment of silence, he walked over to the Great Liang soldier who had been pierced by an arrow and ultimately met his end in the jaws of an Evil Ghost.

He was just a boy from Liangzhou, no more than fifteen years old.

Kneeling down, Duan Xu closed the soldier’s wide-open eyes and said softly, "Rest now."

Then he stood and walked step by step to He Simu’s side. His injured, bloodstained hand grasped the floating locust wood lantern pole, and she turned her head to look down at him amidst the swirling crows.

A few drops of blood had splattered onto her face—likely from when she had bitten the soldier’s neck moments ago.

Duan Xu used his clean hand to pull out a handkerchief from his sleeve, offering it to her just as he had when they first met. "Wipe the blood from your face, Miss Evil Ghost," he said.

He Simu glanced at the handkerchief in his hand, then shifted her gaze to his face, replying coolly, "And then?"

"And then, in exchange..." Duan Xu pressed the handkerchief to her cheek. Her skin was as cold as a winter wind.

He slowly wiped away the bloodstains, even adding with a hint of playfulness, "Miss Evil Ghost, could you let me keep my memories of this ghostly encounter?"

Given the dazed state of the Great Liang soldiers, they likely wouldn’t remember how they had narrowly escaped death. As for the Danzhi soldiers, they certainly wouldn’t recall why they had retreated or why their leader had died.

He Simu leaned slightly closer, staring into his eyes at close range, searching for even a trace of fear or disgust—anything to prove that this unflappable, grinning demeanor was nothing but a facade.

Duan Xu blinked, but the amusement in his eyes was entirely genuine. "What, do I need to reintroduce myself?" he asked.

"My name is Duan Xu—Xu as in 'to conquer the Wolf Mountain.' My courtesy name is Shunxi. Might I ask, what manner of ghost are you, miss?"

He Simu lowered her eyes and chuckled softly before raising them again to meet his clear gaze. Slowly, deliberately, she said:

"Though unworthy, I am the King of Ten Thousand Ghosts."

Her words were humble, but her tone was flippant.

With a smile, she took the bloodstained handkerchief from his hand and began wiping the blood from his injured left hand. "Clearly," she said slowly, "I am not He Xiaoxiao, and you are not Duan Xu."