Love Beyond the Grave

When the sun rose, Jiang Ai spotted He Simu on the streets of Jade Zhou City. She was strolling alone at a leisurely pace, seemingly lost in thought.

Jiang Ai approached her and pointed curiously at He Simu's mouth. "Your Majesty, what's that on your lips?"

He Simu touched the corner of her mouth and replied, "Just some medicine residue."

This surprised Jiang Ai even more—since when did Evil Ghosts need medicine? She immediately thought of that human boy but swallowed her questions after glancing at He Simu's expression.

They walked side by side through Jade Zhou City. With the Ghost Realm in turmoil, all the Hall Masters had returned to their territories to command their Ghost Armies—some rebelling, others following He Simu's orders to suppress them. Few Evil Ghosts remained in the city now.

"Bai Sanxing has been performing exceptionally well lately," He Simu remarked casually.

"He'd love to tear Yan Ke limb from limb, so of course he fights fiercely on the battlefield. Without the Ghost King Lamp, Yan Ke's own Magical Power is no match for yours." Jiang Ai then asked curiously, "Why can't Yan Ke use the Ghost King Lamp anyway? His power isn't weak—he should be able to control it."

He Simu smiled faintly. "As long as I exist, he'll never wield the Ghost King Lamp."

Turning a quiet corner, they came upon a stretch of begonias in full bloom, their vibrant colors painting the street. He Simu paused, crouching to admire the delicate flowers. They reminded her of the landscape map of Jade Zhou City that Duan Xu had drawn.

Begonias—the grass of longing. These pale pink blossoms resembled the faint afterglow of autumn sunsets, their subtle fragrance cool like scented dew.

Seeing the flowers, Jiang Ai seemed to recall something. "Those materials and pigments you requested have arrived—piled up at the mountain's base. Vermilion, minium, carbon black, malachite, orpiment... What kind of palace are you building that needs such gaudy colors? You can't even see them anyway."

He Simu remained silent, gently touching a begonia petal before suddenly asking, "Aunt Jiang Ai, do you still remember what pain feels like?"

Jiang Ai hesitated, then admitted after some thought, "I've forgotten. Only that it was unpleasant."

"How strange. I shouldn't be able to feel it," He Simu murmured softly.

Yet ever since she first saw Duan Xu, the ache had persisted.

Jiang Ai, Bai Sanxing, Hejia Fengyi—even her long-departed parents—all claimed she possessed immense power, that she would become the mightiest Ghost King.

Was that truly so?

Never before had she felt such urgency—this desperate need for strength to protect him, to save him from aging, sickness, suffering, and death.

Yet she was powerless against the mortal cycle of life and death.

She loathed her helplessness.

Duan Xu had returned from the frontlines with ten thousand soldiers, camped outside the Southern Capital under the pretense of paying respects to the new sovereign. But should the ruler refuse his return to battle, those troops might serve another purpose entirely.After his high fever subsided, Duan Xu rested for a few days before disregarding the doctor's and his sister's advice to ride out of the city, intending to visit the military camp outside. He rode slowly through the streets of the Southern Capital, but once outside the city, he spurred his horse into a gallop. The north wind whipped his clothes and hair ribbon into fluttering banners, while the winter landscape of sparse trees and swirling dust rushed past him in a blur.

When he was still some distance from the camp, his horse suddenly neighed and halted, even taking a couple of steps backward. Stroking the horse's mane, Duan Xu saw a group of armored, weapon-wielding soldiers appear out of thin air before him, as if they had sprung from the ground in an instant.

Judging by their appearance, these soldiers were neither his men nor the imperial guards from the city. Given their eerie emergence and sinister aura, these pale-faced soldiers with pitch-black eyes were clearly not human at all.

Holding the reins, Duan Xu thought to himself that it seemed Simu's battle wasn't over yet.

"Be careful, Lord Duan!" A loud shout came from nowhere as three Daoist-robed cultivators suddenly appeared before Duan Xu's horse.

Surprised, Duan Xu looked at the three young men in white robes. They chanted incantations and tossed an umbrella-shaped magical artifact above his head, quickly forming a magic circle around him. The Evil Ghosts surged forward like a black cloud, and the cultivators charged into battle, their swords flashing like lightning splitting the darkness, sending ashes swirling into the sky.

Duan Xu dismounted, glancing at the golden-lit magic circle beneath his feet and the artifact hovering above him. For a moment, he found the sensation of being protected quite peculiar.

"Excuse me, young heroes, may I ask who you are?" he called out loudly.

"We are disciples of Star Clarity Palace, sent by Senior Brother Feng Yi to protect you," one of them replied while busy fighting the ghosts.

As expected. Watching them engage in this unfamiliar battle, Duan Xu leaned against his horse with his sword in hand, obediently staying within the magic circle. Any Evil Ghost that tried to approach him was repelled by the barrier, left to snarl and claw futilely outside the golden light.

One of the three, a tall and slender cultivator in white, flew forward and swiftly cut down a ghost outside the circle. Just as he was about to turn back to rejoin the fray, his steps suddenly halted.

The cultivator slowly turned his head toward Duan Xu, his movements stiff as he raised his hand to retrieve the artifact and dispel the magic circle. Duan Xu's gaze sharpened.

"What are you doing, Mu Xi?!" his companion shouted.

Before the words faded, Duan Xu's Illusion-Breaking Sword was already unsheathed and resting against the cultivator's neck. Smiling faintly, Duan Xu narrowed his eyes and said, "Come out of his body, Yan Ke."

The cultivator remained silent for a moment before replying, "You have sharp eyes."

Glancing at the sword at his throat, he looked up and asked, "Are you going to kill this cultivator who came to save you?"

Duan Xu's eyes flickered.

The possessed cultivator strode away with his sword, turning against his two companions. Shocked and furious, the remaining two struggled to hold their ground amidst the overwhelming swarm of Evil Ghosts.The Evil Ghost soldier who tried to take advantage of the moment to approach Duan Xu was hacked to pieces by the Illusion-Breaking Sword in his hand. Dealing with ghosts of this level was still well within his capabilities. He had called for He Simu earlier, but there was no sign of her now—she must have long since handed him over to Hejia Fengyi. Seeing the eerie black clouds of ghostly energy about to engulf the two cultivators as well, Duan Xu thought for a moment. Since they stood no chance against Yan Ke anyway, he might as well rest the left blade of the Illusion-Breaking Sword against his own neck.

"Yan Ke, let's make a deal," he called out clearly.

The possessed cultivator turned his head, pitch-black eyes fixing on Duan Xu.

"You came to capture me, surely not just to bring back a corpse? I'll go with you—just let these three young heroes go, and... this horse of mine." Duan Xu grinned, pointing to the fine steed beside him.

The cultivator stared at Duan Xu for a while before waving his hand, and the attacking Evil Ghosts halted. The tall, solemn blue-clad ghost emerged from the cultivator's body, stepping over the ashes of the fallen ghosts as he approached Duan Xu. "Duan Shunxi," he said coldly, "I wonder how much longer you'll keep smiling."

Duan Xu sheathed his sword, the mirth in his eyes fading when he caught sight of the Ghost King Lamp Jade Pendant hanging at Yan Ke's waist.

True to his word, Yan Ke made sure Duan Xu wouldn't be smiling for long.

Blindfolded, Duan Xu was taken to an unknown location, where he was subjected to a long-overdue, venting-style round of torture. The corner of his lip split, making even the slightest smile excruciating. Tied to a rack, he felt as though there might not be a single uninjured spot left on his body—the last time he'd been this badly hurt was probably during his duel with Shishi. After just having vomited blood and suffered a fever, he wasn't sure how much more his body could take.

But perhaps the fading pain was a blessing—otherwise, he might have passed out from the agony. Now, no matter how the torturing ghosts cursed and shouted, Duan Xu simply tilted his head—playing dead.

The voices of the surrounding ghosts suddenly fell silent as footsteps approached.

Duan Xu guessed it must be Yan Ke.

"What happened to him?"

"Reporting to Your Majesty, he's been beaten unconscious," the torturing ghost fawned.

Your Majesty? Had Yan Ke already declared himself king? Why did he have the Ghost King Lamp? What had happened to Simu?

A flurry of questions raced through Duan Xu's mind, only to be interrupted by Yan Ke's cold chuckle. "Simu, you've protected him well enough. It took me quite some effort to get my hands on him."

Duan Xu's heart lurched. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and in the utter silence, He Simu's voice rang out—distant and muffled, as if transmitted through some magical artifact.

"Oh? So you already know you're doomed, resorting to such tricks now." After a year's absence, He Simu's voice was as indifferent and calm as ever.

"You were willing to trade the Ghost King Lamp for his life last time. What will you offer in exchange this time?" Yan Ke murmured.

Trade the Ghost King Lamp for his life.

Duan Xu froze.

Memories of their parting a year ago flashed rapidly through his mind—from He Simu's gaze to Chen Ying's later words of comfort, lingering on one particular sentence: It was Little Sister who brought back the antidote.

On the day she left, she hadn't seemed to be carrying the Ghost King Lamp.

So He Simu had traded the Ghost King Lamp for his antidote. At such a critical juncture, she had lost the Ghost King Lamp—which was why the war that should have ended in six months had dragged on until now.Duan Xu's heart sank, plunging into the depths of a lake half frozen and half aflame. Slowly, he clenched his fists.

Over there, He Simu laughed. "Hahaha, exchange what? Don’t you know exactly what I exchanged for the Ghost King Lamp? I’ve already done more than enough for him. Now, there’s no connection between us—kill him if you want."

"He Simu!" Yan Ke’s voice suddenly rose sharply, as if he had smashed something with a loud crash. Furious, he shouted, "What trick did you play on the Ghost King Lamp? Why? Why can’t I use it?"

For a moment, the room fell into silence, followed by laughter.

"Hahahaha... Pitiful, Yan Ke. Three hundred years, and you still couldn’t find my Life Gate. You got the Ghost King Lamp, yet you can’t use it. Can’t defeat me, can’t kill me, and then you fell in love with me. How could anyone be as foolish as you?"

After a pause, He Simu said calmly, "Let me tell you this—three hundred years ago, I tore off a fragment of my own soul and fused it into the Ghost King Lamp. The Ghost King Lamp is the Life Gate you’ve been dreaming of."

The words struck like an arrow through the heart. Yan Ke visibly froze.

He Simu’s voice floated faintly, tinged with both pity and provocation. "If you want to kill me, just destroy the Ghost King Lamp. But can you bear to?"

Without the supreme treasure that was the Ghost King Lamp, how could Yan Ke stand against Jiang Ai and Bai Sanxing united? How could he rightfully claim the title of Ghost King? Evil Ghosts are born of desire—those who vie for power are consumed by incurable greed. Which among them could destroy the Ghost King Lamp they had schemed so hard to obtain?

Yet as long as He Simu had not turned to ashes, as long as that fragment of her soul remained in the Ghost King Lamp, no one could wield it without her permission.

The only way to possess the Ghost King Lamp was to destroy it.

This was the deadlock she had set for every Evil Ghost contending for the throne since the day she entered the Ghost Realm.