Love Beyond the Grave

The young high priest before him, with braided hair adorned in silver ornaments and dressed in white robes embroidered with golden threads, showed a hint of surprise. Luda asked, "You know my father?"

Duan Xu smiled. "Only recently, but perhaps I understand him better than you do. On the surface, he asked me to stop you from returning home, but ever since I left You Province, I’ve been ambushed in turns by humans, those possessed by ghosts, and Evil Ghosts. It was no small feat to finally meet you."

Had assassination not once been his specialty, allowing him to evade most of the ambushes by piecing together clues, it was uncertain whether he would have made it to Luda at all.

"My brother just sent word that he’s fallen seriously ill. I was about to return to the Upper Capital," Luda frowned. "I don’t understand what you mean."

"If I’m not mistaken, your brother is perfectly fine. He’s simply cooperating with your father to keep you from going home. Beyond that, your father also wants me and my friend dead."

Luda’s confusion deepened. Duan Xu chuckled softly. "It’s alright if you don’t get it yet. Come with me to You Province’s Comforting Sight City, and everything will become clear. Don’t worry—I mean you no harm."

Luda studied him for a moment before tucking his bone flute into his sleeve and nodding.

The situation had gone surprisingly smoothly. The young high priest’s reaction caught Duan Xu off guard—he had expected to resort to threats, bribes, or even kidnapping to get Luda to cooperate, given his current unappealing reputation.

"You trust me?"

Luda nodded again. "The Azure God bears witness—your eyes hold no malice."

Hearing the name "Azure God," Duan Xu laughed quietly. But then Luda asked, "Will your friend be alright?"

Duan Xu fell silent for a moment. He picked up the poor, split veiled hat from the ground and dusted it off in his hands.

"She will be."

She was clever—she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. And when she handed him the Ghost King Lamp, it wasn’t so he could protect her, but to conceal and safeguard the lamp itself.

The proud and formidable Ghost King had never relied on others for protection, much less allowed a mortal—especially her Curse-Bound Person—to act as bait for her. Even if this mortal was willing, she would disdain such a tactic.

So the bait wasn’t him—it was herself.

He Simu sat on the uneven cobblestone path in the garden, calmly gazing at Yilier from within the shimmering golden array.

"What a loyal servant. Song Xingyu could evade my Summoning Order because you gave him Danzhi’s sacred relic, didn’t you? Did he promise you that by killing me, he’d become the Ghost King and grant you all the wealth and glory in this world?"

Yilier stood cautiously by the Glazed Tile Pagoda, watching He Simu without a word.

From the swirling Ghostly energy within the pagoda came the laughter of a child—a boy around ten years old, his voice youthful but devoid of innocence. "He Simu, even in your current state, you still talk tough?"

In a dark corner, a half-finger-long insect crawled out from the white peonies of the "Lingxie Luxue" garden, its body faintly flickering with runes.

The insect crept silently along the cracks in the ground until it reached the pagoda, then slowly climbed the outer wall and settled into the mass of Ghostly energy, merging seamlessly into it.

Amid the tension, no one noticed—except the insect’s master.He Simu watched expressionlessly as the insect vanished, then let out a cold laugh. "Bullying the weak while fearing the strong, insatiably greedy, short-sighted, reckless, and stupid—utterly unchanged for a hundred years."

"What are you saying?" came an angry roar from the swirling ghostly energy.

"You."

The pale moonlight reflected in He Simu's eyes as crows cawed and alighted on the rooftops. They arrived in twos and threes, folding their wings as they settled along the corridors, filling the garden in the blink of an eye with their ominous chorus.

Yilier looked around nervously at the courtyard now teeming with crows.

These clever little creatures adored death—they knew who its true master was.

He Simu leisurely adjusted her skirt within the formation, seemingly in no hurry to free herself.

Using a memory illusion to seek her Life Gate? This plan might barely rank in the top fifty among all the assassination attempts she'd encountered. Pity the Rakshasa Hall Master hadn't even reached the memories he wanted to see before she woke.

The moment he spotted a chance to overpower her, this Rakshasa Hall Master had rushed over eagerly, practically sewing a wedding gown for someone else's benefit.

"Rakshasa Hall Master, the Ghost King Lamp isn't in your hands. Even if my body perishes, its next master still won't be you. That brain of yours is neither pleasing to look at nor useful—why keep it at all?"

A furious voice erupted from the ghostly energy. "Shut up! You have no Magical Power left—I could throw you into the South Sea's ice coffin to sleep for eternity! Hand over the Ghost King Lamp now and make it acknowledge me as its master!"

He Simu nearly laughed at his stupidity.

The Ghost King Lamp and Ghost Records were inextricably linked, and the Ghost Records documented the Life Gates of all Evil Ghosts except the Ghost King. Possessing the lamp meant holding the lives of every Evil Ghost in one's grasp.

But knowing the Life Gates was one thing—having the skill to claim them was another.

"You think gaining tenfold Magical Power from the lamp will make you invincible? Leaving me aside, among the twenty-four Ghost Ministers, many surpass you in strength, not to mention the Left and Right Ministers. They'd just kill you and take the lamp back. You're nothing but a pawn. If you succeed, there are others waiting to ambush you. If you fail, the other Hall Masters lose nothing. When I told you to spend time with Guan Huai, it was so you could learn his cunning and self-preservation. Yet you've absorbed none of it."

Before the Rakshasa Hall Master could retort, He Simu suddenly dropped her mocking tone and spoke slowly. "But I have a question. Answer it to my satisfaction, and I might just give you both the Ghost King Lamp and the throne."

The ghostly energy hesitated briefly before replying skeptically, "What question?"

Leaning against a cluster of rose bushes, surrounded by blossoms, He Simu paused. Her voice was calm, almost indifferent, as she asked, "Why do you want to be Ghost King?"

The energy seemed to find the question absurd. "What kind of question is that? What Evil Ghost wouldn't want to be king? As Ghost King, I'd wield power over life and death, do as I please, take what I want! Every Ghost Minister—even mortal emperors—would grovel at my feet!"

A familiar reason—so predictable it was dull. Evil Ghosts' desires varied wildly, yet they all converged here. How peculiar."They bow and scrape before you, and then what? So-called pleasures and riches—Evil Ghosts can neither perceive nor enjoy them. What meaning does this world you control hold for you?"

The mass of ghostly energy did not respond. For Greedy Ghosts, forever chasing after different desires, what comes after their fulfillment is beyond their consideration.

After a pause, He Simu said coolly, "You all want to be the Ghost King, as if it's some coveted position."

A dismissive laugh came from the ghostly energy as Song Xingyu retorted, "If it's not such a coveted position, then why are you clinging to it so desperately?"

He Simu shook her head. The formation trapped her firmly within its bounds, so she patted her clothes and stood up, her rust-red skirt pooling on the ground. In that moment, the crows filling the courtyard suddenly fell silent.

Dark clouds blotted out the moon, plunging everything into darkness.

In the pitch-black void, she said, "Your answer doesn't satisfy me. I won't hand this world over to someone I despise."

The ghostly energy surged violently—clearly, the Rakshasa Hall Master was on the verge of fury. He shouted, "Yilier, I'm taking her away to throw her into the ice coffin! You—"

Before he could finish, a sword wreathed in blue flames shot through the air, embedding itself into the Glazed Tile Pagoda and splitting the black mass in two.

The blue flames burned like a fuse, tearing through the night. A black-clad youth with blue ghost fire flickering in his palm stepped into the garden. The flames spread with his footsteps, igniting the garden into a blazing sea that climbed up to the pagoda.

The entire garden was as bright as day, casting Yilier's face into stark pallor. Trembling, he whispered, "Luda?"

Behind Duan Xu, the white-robed young high priest hesitated for a moment before enunciating each word, "Father, what are you doing?"

Without waiting for his father's reply, he drew a bone flute from his sleeve and blew into it. The shrill sound shot toward the ghostly energy like a volley of arrows. The ghostly energy swelled menacingly, surging toward Luda. Yilier screamed, "No, no!" but Luda remained unmoved.

The ghostly energy collided with the flute's melody, ultimately dissipating in a furious burst before him.

The flute's song continued unabated. Yilier rushed to Luda and seized his wrist. The moment his grip tightened, the Glazed Tile Pagoda collapsed with a thunderous crash, scattering shards of crystal across the ground.

The formation around He Simu dissolved.

Luda finally lowered the flute and turned to Duan Xu. "Seventeen, stop burning everything down."

Duan Xu snapped his fingers, and the flames throughout the garden vanished instantly, leaving behind pale ashes like a heavy snowfall. Dust swirled in the air as moonlight once again bathed the land.

He Simu stood amidst the fluttering white ashes, raising a hand to cover her nose and mouth as she smiled faintly.

A phrase suddenly came to Duan Xu's mind:

Jade, though burned, remains cold in nature.

Her smile held no warmth, no joy—not even a fraction of what it had been that spring afternoon when she'd regained the sense of touch.

His steps faltered briefly before he walked to her side, brushing the ashes from her clothes and scrutinizing her carefully from head to toe.

"Are you all right?"

"What could possibly be wrong?" He Simu tilted her head slightly. "The Ghost King Lamp—you've mastered it well now. Why are you being so obedient this time?"

"This is a world I don't understand but you do. I thought it best not to cause you any trouble."The wind picked up, carrying with it a crisp yet rich fragrance from Duan Xu, mingled with the charred scent of burning wood—as if it had blown straight out of that illusion.

For a moment, He Simu recalled the bizarre and chaotic memories from the illusion.

This was the first scent she had ever smelled in the mortal world, the one that had snapped her out of the illusion. Perhaps from now on, whenever she thought of the mortal realm, this was the scent she would remember.

"Your sister’s blend is quite pleasant," He Simu remarked casually before turning to walk toward Yilier.

Suddenly, Duan Xu grabbed her wrist, pulling her into an embrace from behind. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, enveloping her tightly—though only for a brief moment. By the time she drew breath, he had already let go. He Simu paused mid-step, frowning as she turned to face him.

Duan Xu smiled with innocent mischief. "Since you like it so much, why not take in a little more? Besides, you’ve been so quiet these past few days—I was half-convinced you’d settle scores with me once your Magical Power was restored. Might as well be a little bolder now."