Love Beyond the Grave

In the thirteenth day of the fifth month of the twenty-fifth year of the Taiyuan era, an ominous celestial phenomenon appeared—Mars guarding the heart.

The Emperor suffered a seizure and fainted, waking only after a full day. The Grand State Preceptor, Hejia Fengyi, submitted a memorial interpreting the celestial signs as indicating the presence of an extremely wicked person by the Emperor's side, with the calamity rooted in the imperial harem. He petitioned for a palace-wide search, which the Emperor approved. After five days of searching, several female corpses were discovered in an abandoned well, and three human-shaped wooden figurines inscribed with unknown curse markings—suspected to be voodoo curses—were found in Consort Yu's palace and the Fifth Prince's residence.

Enraged, the Emperor demoted Consort Yu to the Cold Palace and confined the Fifth Prince, Han Mingxuan, to Guanghe Palace.

On the night of the twentieth day of the fifth month, the lights in Guanghe Palace were dim. The candles in Han Mingxuan's bedchamber had already been extinguished, yet he had not retired. Instead, he draped his robes over his shoulders and stepped out into the courtyard, as if waiting for someone. Before long, a figure clad in a black cape entered through a side gate. Upon reaching Han Mingxuan, the figure lowered its hood, revealing none other than Consort Yu herself.

Though nearing forty, Consort Yu's skin remained as smooth and delicate as a young woman in her twenties, which explained the Emperor's unwavering favor toward her. Gritting her teeth, she demanded, "Didn't you say this was foolproof?"

Han Mingxuan frowned deeply. "I cast an optical illusion over the corpses and figurines. Under normal circumstances, they should never have been discovered. Who exactly is this State Preceptor, Feng Yi?"

"Who is he? Just a sickly fraud living off his connections, coasting on Master Qingxuan's recommendation to laze about in his position without any real skill. I warned you countless times that your illusion wasn't reliable and to hide everything properly. Now that we're here, what do we do? What about all your mystical powers?"

"While inhabiting this human form, I cannot use them."

"Then shed this body! Or do you intend to rot away in Guanghe Palace? Everything hinges on His Majesty's will. Whether it's curses or possession, as long as you can make the Emperor speak our pardon, there's still hope."

Han Mingxuan clenched his fists. "Something feels wrong."

"You know nothing of palace affairs. We agreed to cooperate, and in the palace, you follow my lead," Consort Yu said coldly.

After a tense silence, Han Mingxuan reached into his collar and pulled out a bone pendant. "Fine."

"What a fascinating trinket. Mind if I take a look?"

A cheerful, resonant voice rang out as a massive silver-white magic circle suddenly illuminated the entire grounds of Guanghe Palace. A beam of light from the circle enveloped the bone pendant in Han Mingxuan's hand, causing him to recoil as if burned. With a flick of his fingers, the speaker sent the pendant flying into his palm.

Hejia Fengyi stood at the center of the magic circle, clad in white Taoist robes embroidered with a golden Twenty-Eight Constellations Diagram. His right hand leaned on a wooden cane, its bell jingling frantically like a soul-summoning chime. His pale, slender left hand toyed with the pendant as he smiled. "Truly a treasure—half human bone, half eagle bone, sealing the lifelong magical power of at least three highly skilled witch doctors. No wonder Danzhi reveres it as a sacred relic. No wonder you've been able to wreak havoc in the palace for so long without me detecting even a trace of your ghostly energy. A flawless disguise indeed... Rakshasa Hall Master."He tossed the bone pendant upward and pointed his staff at it. As light intertwined, incantations activated, and arc-shaped winds surged powerfully from the pendant, causing all the lanterns in Guanghe Palace to sway violently. Han Mingxuan reached out fiercely to snatch the pendant, but having sealed ghostly energy within it, he was now as powerless as a mortal. Just as his fingers were about to touch it, a brilliant light flared. In the blink of an eye, the pendant returned to Hejia Fengyi's hand, his staff now pointed at Han Mingxuan's heart.

The connection between the bone pendant and the Rakshasa Hall Master was severed. The ghostly energy within Han Mingxuan could no longer be suppressed, spreading ominously in thick, dark waves.

The hand gripping Hejia Fengyi's staff began turning red from the fingertips, the crimson patches rapidly climbing up his arm, spreading across his neck and cheeks.

He smiled and said, "Don't come near me. It's too filthy."

His body had always been excessively sensitive to ghostly energy. Aside from his blood-related ancestors, any other ghostly energy would trigger a severe reaction.

With his ghostly energy unleashed, Han Mingxuan finally shed his mortal shell, revealing the ghostly form of a ten-year-old child amidst swirling green smoke. Countless sharp white bones erupted from his body, shooting straight toward Hejia Fengyi, the overwhelming ghostly energy pressing down like storm clouds.

The crimson patches had now spread to Hejia Fengyi's forehead. His birch wood staff traced a perfect circle against the floor tiles, the formation glowing brighter and brighter.

"The Heavenly Way is complete, the Three and Five formed, sun and moon aligned.

From the depths of mystery, into the abyss of darkness, energy spreads through the Dao, energy connects to the divine.

Energy purges all wicked ghosts and thieves.

Those who see me are blinded, those who hear me are deafened.

Those who dare plot against me shall suffer their own calamity."

From the moment Hejia Fengyi uttered the first word, countless beams of light surged from the formation, coiling around the Rakshasa Hall Master like hands, rendering him immobile. By the time the last word was spoken, Hejia Fengyi smiled at the ghost before him—now cocooned in light. His staff spun rapidly three times before pointing at the Rakshasa Hall Master, forcing the Evil Ghost to prostrate helplessly on the ground.

Hejia Fengyi stretched lazily and turned to Consort Yu, who had long collapsed in terror. "What's the matter, Consort Yu? Does this freeloading, swindling State Preceptor still meet your expectations?"

Consort Yu's face was deathly pale, her lips trembling uncontrollably. Hejia Fengyi stepped over the prostrate Rakshasa Hall Master and crouched before her, grinning. "Consort Yu, to be frank, Master Qingxuan once pitied Great Liang for losing half its territory and wished to protect the royal family at all costs. He visited me three times before I reluctantly agreed to leave Star Clarity Palace and come here."

"Times have changed, and now people have forgotten the title of the Mars Star Lord." Hejia Fengyi pointed at himself. "My surname is Hejia."

The Mars Calamity Star, passed down through the Hejia bloodline—curses always fulfilled, kills never escaped, unmatched in every generation as the mightiest sorcerer of their era.

His frail, pale body draped in oversized Daoist robes, the fabric fluttering like banners in the wind, half his face stained crimson. He seemed more ghost than man. Consort Yu mustered her last ounce of strength. "You and I... have no enmity... I..."Hejia Fengyi wagged his finger, leaning on his cane as he said, "Your son, the Fifth Prince Han Mingxuan, fell gravely ill two years ago—on the brink of death before miraculously recovering. But the truth is, Han Mingxuan did die two years ago. To preserve your wealth and status, you conspired with the Rakshasa Hall Master, allowing him to possess your son's body. He used the Dan Branch Spirit Bone to conceal his ghostly energy, making him indistinguishable from a living person. Yet Evil Ghosts must feed on humans to survive. You procured palace maids for him to devour, and at his suggestion, you trapped the Soul Fire of these young women in puppets to maintain your youthful appearance. Am I wrong, Consort Yu?"

"I... I am the daughter of the Minister of War! My son... could become the Crown Prince! The Emperor! If you would just spare—"

"Hahahaha!" Hejia Fengyi couldn't help but laugh. "Consort Yu, just moments ago you accused me of dereliction of duty, and now you ask me to bend the law for you? Let me share my thoughts instead. How about this: Consort Yu and the Fifth Prince conspired to flee the palace and assassinate the Emperor. Upon discovery, they committed suicide within the palace. A fitting tale, don't you think?"

Consort Yu's eyes widened. Trembling, she pointed at the Rakshasa Hall Master, tears streaming down her face. "He deceived me! State Preceptor! I... I was just momentarily bewitched—"

Hejia Fengyi tapped his cane against the ground, pressing the struggling Rakshasa Hall Master back down. "As for him... his own sovereign will judge him. Ancestor, it's your turn now."

As his words faded, a figure in red emerged from the array. A tall, pale female ghost wearing a veiled hat adorned with long crimson crystal beads that reached her waist. The beads swayed and clinked softly with each step, revealing glimpses of jet-black hair, striking features, and cold phoenix eyes through the gaps.

He Simu crouched down, lifting the bead curtain to gaze at the prostrate Rakshasa Hall Master. She called his true name: "Song Xingyu."

Without the protection of the Spirit Bone, the summoning command took immediate effect. The Rakshasa Hall Master lowered his head and gritted out, "Your... servant is here."

"How remarkable. I forbade Evil Ghosts from interfering in mortal politics, yet you possessed a prince—planning to contend for the throne and rule the world, weren't you?"

Song Xingyu clenched his fists, glaring up at He Simu. "Who wouldn't want to rule the world? The Ghost Realm is dull. As a mortal sovereign, not just Soul Fire—everything the living possess could be mine."

He Simu studied his eyes and chuckled softly. "An ambitious thought. Who suggested this to you?"

Song Xingyu's gaze flickered. In that moment of hesitation, He Simu let the bead curtain fall and stood, smiling faintly. "You made a pact with him—one that binds you from speaking his name."

The Ghost King Lamp at her waist ignited with blue flames. At this, Song Xingyu finally panicked. "I... I know how the former Ghost King died! Spare me, and I'll tell you!"

The blue fire spread over him without pause. In that instant, he recalled the distant agony of being flayed alive in his mortal days—a pain that tore a wretched scream from his throat. Amid the flames, the young woman before him laughed softly. "Did you truly think I didn't know who incited you? That I didn't know how my father died?""You wanted me to believe he died for love, so I pretended to believe it. My father deeply loved my mother, but he also loved me. He promised to live for me, to depend on each other—he would never abandon me to a chaotic, unfamiliar Ghost Realm and die irresponsibly."

Song Xingyu could no longer make a sound. His limbs and bones turned to ashes in the blazing fire, and though his body should have felt no pain, it was as if a thousand ants gnawed at his heart. He seemed to see his own father from centuries ago, raising a blade. In that still-unfamiliar world, the father he trusted most had sliced him apart a thousand times.

Just moments ago, He Simu had said her father loved her.

How could that be? What did the word "father" even mean? What had his own father done to him?

The last trace of Song Xingyu’s lingering resentment was burned away, reduced to ashes on the ground.

Centuries ago, a village had suffered a calamity. The villagers chose a child to sacrifice to the heavens to appease the disaster, and so a father personally skinned his ten-year-old son to make the offering.

A hundred years later, that village suffered an even greater calamity—razed to the ground by the vengeful child. And now, millennia later, the child who had sought to fill the void of hatred and resentment with everything in the world had finally returned to dust.

Hejia Fengyi walked to He Simu’s side, gazing at the ashes. "What’s wrong, Ancestor? Do you pity him?"

He Simu shook her head.

If one knew the suffering of being human—of being crushed for weakness—then one should not, upon gaining power, turn to crush those even weaker.

Though Song Xingyu had died before he could ever understand this.

Hejia Fengyi was silent for a moment, then said, "Earlier, he mentioned... your father..."

He Simu glanced at him, and Feng Yi understood this was not something he should pry into. Pretending he had heard nothing, he turned to clean up the aftermath.