Each Ghost King throughout history had their unique abilities and temperaments, but there was one strikingly consistent trait—they were all about making an impression, or rather, a ghostly impression.

Whenever they revealed their true form in the mortal world, they always arranged a grand spectacle that would dim heaven and earth, then made their entrance with deliberate poise, causing the living to tremble in fear, like a wolf baring its fangs before lambs.

He Simu’s spectacle of manifestation—with a hundred crows descending and ghostly fire burning people—was already eerie and fierce enough to leave a deep impression.

However, the lamb before her was unusual. Not only was he unafraid, he seemed somewhat excited. Beyond excitement, he even brazenly lied: “What is Ghost King Your Highness saying? I am Duan Xu, surname Duan, given name Xu, courtesy name Xunxi. My maternal grandfather gave me my name, my father gave me my courtesy name. It’s all genuine.”

He Simu smiled slightly, lifting him by the collar with one hand, and said kindly: “You’re deceiving a ghost.”

That was truly deceiving a ghost.

Duan Xu allowed He Simu to hold him up, not struggling at all. He blinked his eyes and responded with composure: “This place is not suitable for a long stay. Why doesn’t Your Highness the Ghost King wait until we return to Shuozhou Prefecture City, and then we can discuss matters at length?”

“Are you trying to stall me?”

“How do you know I’m not begging you?”

Duan Xu smiled openly, his round bright eyes carrying a hint of innocence. He Simu narrowed her eyes and looked at him for a moment, thinking that she had never seen someone beg with such confidence.

When Han Ling Qiu awakened with a start, he found himself leading grain carts along the small mountain path back toward the city. He was confused for a long time, looking at the rope in his hand holding the horse, then at the grain cart beside him, then at the soldiers before and behind him. His mind felt like a bowl of paste.

Just now… they had seized the grain carts but discovered they had fallen into an ambush, and then… the Huqi people who had ambushed them somehow abandoned this fat piece of meat in their mouths and suddenly withdrew. They had then taken the grain carts and started back along the mountain path.

It seemed that was what happened, but the turn of events was too strange as if a link was suddenly missing somewhere.

As Han Ling Qiu was carefully recalling, the image of Duan Xu shooting an arrow through the enemy’s eye appeared in his mind again, making him shudder involuntarily. Some vague images began to swirl in his mind, unclear yet disturbing enough to make one restless. Just then, someone patted his shoulder. He instinctively drew his sword and pressed it against the person’s neck, but the other reacted even faster, spinning away to stand three steps distant.

Duan Xu rubbed his neck with a smile and said: “That was close. What’s the matter with Officer Han?”

Han Ling Qiu stared at Duan Xu with wide eyes, his breathing heavy, as if he wanted to stare a hole through him. Only when he realized that the soldiers in the mountain path had stopped and were watching the confrontation between the general and the officer with unease and confusion did he stiffly say: “Just now we were in danger… I’m too tense. General, please don’t take offense.”

Duan Xu shook his head, seemingly unconcerned about Han Ling Qiu’s abnormal behavior, and said kindly: “It’s fine. I just wanted to tell you that once we’re out of the mountain path, we should blow up the rocks on both sides to block the road. There’s a spy in our army, and if they know we’re coming to raid the grain, they must also know about this path. Leaving it open would be a great danger.”

Han Ling Qiu bowed and said: “Yes.”

Duan Xu walked past him, moving with natural ease to the front of the line. He appeared to be smiling warmly, but his hand was tightly gripping the Powang sword.

Amid these chaotic memories and a sense of familiarity, Han Ling Qiu suddenly had an intuition—if he had indeed known Duan Xu before, their relationship must have been like what just happened.

Theirs was a relationship where swords were drawn and knives faced each other.

Duan Xu walked to the front of the line, not looking back at Han Ling Qiu, and sighed softly: “Look at you, scaring people into seeing snakes in wine cups.”

Walking beside him, visible only to him, the pale beauty turned her head, the silver hairpin tassels in her hair trembling. She tilted her head with a slight smile, clearly disagreeing but too lazy to say anything.

This grain raid had been dangerous, but the grain they brought back could supply the city for more than twenty days. The citizens could at least get through the New Year. When Duan Xu’s group came down from the mountain path and returned to Shuozhou Prefecture City, Commander Wu was unusually enthusiastic, sending many people to meet them. Seeing Duan Xu injured, he even showed signs of guilt. This truly surprised the other officers, but Duan Xu accepted Commander Wu’s enthusiasm as if it were completely natural.

He Simu, watching this rare scene of harmony, thought that the little fox’s words before raiding the grain were indeed meant to win people’s hearts. Commander Qin had repeatedly placed him in danger, perhaps truly intending to kill him, and before going to raid the grain, he probably hadn’t anticipated such peril. Yet he had put on an air of resignation to die for the Tabai Army, making Commander Wu feel guilty.

Duan Xu was truly like a thousand layers of paper, a thousand layers of pretense with no true heart to be seen.

By nightfall, after arranging all matters large and small for the Tabai Army, Duan Xu could finally return to his room to rest. He had just entered and sat on the bed when Meng Wan came in carrying medicine and bandages, wanting to dress the wound on his arm. Duan Xu declined, saying he could do it himself, but Meng Wan became somewhat anxious, putting the medicine down on the table and saying: “Xunxi, your arm is injured, making it inconvenient to bandage. Even if you don’t want my help, you should find someone to take care of you.”

Duan Xu seemed to find this amusing. He directly took the bandages and medicine from the table, half-removing his clothes to expose his injured left arm. The wound extended from his upper arm to his forearm, about half a knuckle deep and still seeping blood. It had only been simply bandaged before. With his right hand, he untied and removed the previous bandage. Meng Wan, seeing this, was about to help him rebandage it, but then saw him take the medicine bottle, flick open the stopper with two fingers, and pour it onto the wound. Then he took the new bandage, holding one end with his mouth while using his right hand to wrap it around his arm in a continuous motion downward, finally tying a knot and releasing it from his mouth.

The entire process was swift and efficient, completed in moments, with an uncommon skill.

Meng Wan’s hand froze in midair. Duan Xu smiled and even had the composure to wave his newly bandaged arm, saying: “I don’t find it inconvenient. This small injury doesn’t require anyone’s care. A’Wan, go rest early.”

Meng Wan thought that in all the years she had known Duan Xu, there had never been a time when he needed anyone’s care. One couldn’t say he was competitive and unwilling to show weakness; he wasn’t that kind of person and was even somewhat lazy.

Yet from within that laziness, a faint, immovable hardness emerged.

As Meng Wan left, closing the door behind her with nothing more to say, a mischievous laugh rang out in the room.

Duan Xu looked over to see a pale-faced beauty in rust-red clothing sitting in the sandalwood chair in his room, supporting her head with one hand while twirling a jade pendant in the other, smiling charmingly.

He wasn’t surprised and put his clothes back on properly, saying: “Ghost King Your Highness seems quite familiar with this place. It seems this isn’t your first visit. Last night…”

“I was here last night, watching you strip off the upper half of your clothes. Now that you’ve put them back on, you can no longer maintain your innocence.” He Simu spoke casually, even reassuringly: “It’s just a physical form, nothing to be concerned about.”

After a pause, she pointed in the direction outside the room: “When did you first meet Meng Wan?”

“After I returned to the Southern Capital from Daizhou, we studied together under Scholar Yang.”

“Oh? This Scholar Yang doesn’t sound like that Huqi teacher of yours whose eyes were pecked out by a goose.”

“As the saying goes, ‘Among three people walking, there must be one who can be my teacher.’ I certainly wouldn’t have just one teacher.”

He Simu looked at Duan Xu’s seemingly sincere eyes and smiled slightly: “How pitiful you are. All the friends and teachers you can name are those you met after the age of fourteen. What were you doing before you were fourteen?”

She stood up, stepping in her pale pink upturned brocade boots, walking step by step to stand in front of Duan Xu. She lowered her head to look at this youth who constantly wore a smile, whose gaze was always sincere and forthright, and said softly: “That teacher whose eyes were blinded, was he your teacher before you were fourteen? And that amnesiac Officer Han, was he your friend before you were fourteen?”

Duan Xu looked up directly into He Simu’s eyes without avoiding her gaze.

“The teacher was from before I was fourteen, but the friend was not. Before I was fourteen, I had no friends.”

He Simu’s eyes flickered, her expression changing from casual to serious: “Who exactly are you?”

Duan Xu silently looked at He Simu for a while, gradually revealing a bright smile, and said deliberately: “Duan Xu, Duan Xunxi.”

The air seemed to freeze for an instant, their gazes locked together as the candlelight danced on their faces, creating a subtle and dangerous atmosphere that grew increasingly intense in the silent scene. He Simu’s figure flashed, and the next moment, Duan Xu was pinned to the bed with her hand on his throat.

He Simu sat on top of him, leaning down to look at him, her hand gradually tightening.

Duan Xu’s fingers clutched at the bedding. He blinked his eyes and said with some difficulty: “Ghost King… Your Highness, please… show mercy.”

Even at a time like this, he was still smiling.

He Simu bent closer to him, her long hair falling onto his face. Duan Xu frowned slightly, perhaps finding it ticklish.

“Isn’t your martial arts excellent? Why don’t you struggle or resist?” she asked coldly.

“Before absolute power, all techniques are useless.” As He Simu’s hand relaxed a bit, Duan Xu was finally able to speak fluently, adding an explanation: “I can’t beat you. There’s no option but to beg for mercy.”

He had quite a good understanding of his limitations.

He Simu laughed softly and said: “What if I don’t spare you?”

The strength in her hand began to increase again.

Duan Xu thought for a moment, then raised his hand to point at his head, smiling: “Does Your Highness want to collect my skull?”

This completely off-topic question made He Simu raise her eyebrows.

“Not a bad suggestion.”

“I believe my skull will look much better when I’m fifty. Would Your Highness be patient enough to wait until I’m fifty before eating me?”

He Simu narrowed her eyes and looked at Duan Xu for a long time as if she saw a string of idioms written on his face: “audacious,” “fearless,” “quick-witted,” “ingratiating,” and so on.

With the addition of “refusing to confess.”

She confronted Duan Xu for a moment, then smiled gently and withdrew her hand. Looking down at him, she said slowly: “I won’t eat you. I’ve come to make a deal with you.”