Yan Ke’s gaze turned toward Bai San Xing. Restrained behind Jiang Ai, Bai San Xing shot her a hateful glance, then met Yan Ke’s eyes and sneered, “What? Do you think I would keep your secret? You’re He Simu’s father’s murderer, yet you stand righteous by her side, deceiving her into killing me—the only witness. If He Simu finds out, she’ll certainly grind your bones to dust.”

Jiang Ai smiled as she took a few steps closer to Yan Ke, her elegant dress swaying. She spoke leisurely, “So Lord Yan was so nervous earlier not because he feared Bai San Xing would come after him, but because he feared the King would learn the truth about the past if she met Bai San Xing. I find it strange—you used Bai San Xing’s power to eliminate the former Ghost King, then used Simu’s hand to eliminate Bai San Xing. On your path to kingship, wasn’t Simu the only remaining obstacle? Why have you been so well-behaved as the Right Chancellor all these years? Have you truly given up on the throne?”

She moved closer to Yan Ke, placing her hand near her lips, and whispered, “The former Phantom Ghost Master behind that poor child was you, wasn’t it, Right Chancellor? You want Simu’s Ghost King Lantern, don’t you?”

Yan Ke stared coldly at Jiang Ai, saying nothing, the light in his eyes flickering.

Jiang Ai covered her mouth and laughed, stepping back. Her laughter was alluring as she trembled like a flower in the wind. “With such a major weakness in my hands, the Right Chancellor still dares to question me? When Bai San Xing becomes a witness against you one day, Simu will thank me.”

“What do you want?”

“What do I want? You know I have no interest in the throne. Whether you or Simu sits on it makes no difference to me. But Lord Yan, let me say a few more words out of pity—you want both the throne and Simu. Don’t be too greedy.” Jiang Ai retreated to Bai San Xing’s side, her eyes containing a hint of coldness. “There’s no way to have everything in this world. Eventually, you’ll have to break with Simu. If you become king one day, don’t forget how I helped conceal this for you today.”

She extended her hand toward the gate, making a gesture of invitation. Yan Ke looked at her for a moment, then disappeared with a cold laugh into the mist.

Jiang Ai’s smile faded. After confirming that Yan Ke’s presence had completely vanished, she released Bai San Xing from his restraints and said, “Well played.”

Bai San Xing seemed somewhat indignant.

Then she walked to the room at the back of the courtyard and opened the door. Behind it stood a magnificent jade and gold screen with several concealment spells. A woman sat behind the screen reading a scroll, a lamp at her waist emitting a faint blue light.

Jiang Ai said, “Your Majesty, he admitted it.”

He Simu closed the ghost register and raised her eyes, looking at Jiang Ai through the carved gaps in the screen. “Hmm, I heard.”

Jiang Ai was silent for a moment, but couldn’t help asking, “Simu… Your Majesty, when did you learn about what happened to the former Ghost King?”

“I’ve pieced most of it together,” He Simu said, her fingers tapping idly on the ghost register. “My father would never have committed suicide for love. Few people could have harmed him. Though Bai San Xing was arrogant and rebellious, he wouldn’t stoop to taking advantage of someone in grief. At that time, my father was consumed by sorrow over his deceased wife. Bai San Xing wouldn’t have chosen such a moment to strike. Besides, if he had done it, he would have announced it to the world. Why use the pretense of a suicide for love?”

“Then Yan Ke…”

“Do you know how Yan Ke died?” He Simu asked.

Jiang Ai hesitated, then shook her head.

“He was a prince who was granted a title, rebelled, was captured, escaped, raised troops again, and was defeated again. After three cycles of rises and falls, he was finally executed by dismemberment and his body was abandoned in the marketplace.” He Simu flipped through the ghost register, saying indifferently, “His obsession was power, to be the supreme ruler of all under heaven. How could he possibly be content to serve under others?”

Those distant events might have become hazy even in Yan Ke’s memory, but they were recorded clearly in the ghost register, which contained things that would neither disappear nor change. He Simu often leafed through the ghost register, which recorded the life stories and weaknesses of all malevolent ghosts. The yellowed pages told her of the misfortunes and malice of these evil spirits surrounding her—insatiable desires without end.

In this ghost realm, she truly trusted only this ghost register and her Ghost King Lantern.

Jiang Ai gazed at He Simu through the exquisite, ornate screen. She had watched this girl grow up in the human world and then rule in the ghost realm for three hundred years, yet suddenly felt she could no longer understand her.

“So when you say you dislike evil ghosts, you’re torturing Yan Ke?”

“Making him my subordinate, unable to obtain either the throne or me, seeing but unable to touch—isn’t that interesting? This maze outside the Nine-Palace Maze Prison is more tormenting than annihilation.”

He Simu’s calm voice came from behind the screen.

“However, I truly dislike evil ghosts. If I could like them, as you and Bai San Xing do, that would be nice too.”

These words reminded Jiang Ai of half a year ago when He Simu had suddenly given her this white bracelet with a bell attached.

At that time, she had asked—What is this?

He Simu had casually dropped the shocking revelation—Bai San Xing’s soul candle.

Astonished, Jiang Ai heard He Simu explain that she had preserved Bai San Xing’s soul candle years ago, kept it lit outside the Nine-Palace Maze Prison, and had it guarded by the He Jia lineage. The twentieth generation He Jia was a formidable and skillful person who modified the soul candle into a magical artifact capable of controlling and suppressing its master.

Jiang Ai had asked suspiciously—Your Majesty, you’re giving this artifact to me?

—Actually, there was some genuine feeling between you and Bai San Xing. He was just too arrogant and wanted to control you, pushing you too hard. I saw how upset you were when you thought he had died.

—Simu…

—Now you control him. He’s suffered greatly in the Nine-Palace Maze Prison, and I’ve just awakened and released him. If you’re willing, give him another chance. Aunt Jiang Ai, you’ve been good to me, and I want you to be happy.

He Simu, both then and now, not only seemed unfamiliar to Jiang Ai but also made her feel somewhat sad. She realized this child had long known the truth—who was responsible for her father’s death and the covetous intentions of those who appeared close. For over three hundred years, she had remained composed, never trying to tell anyone or rely on anyone.

But He Simu was still just a young woman. Having lived only four hundred years, she had once laughed and raged in the human world, a girl who had snuggled in her parents’ laps. How had she matured to this point?

Jiang Ai walked behind the screen. He Simu seemed somewhat surprised by her approach. Seeing the pity in Jiang Ai’s eyes, she waved her hand and smiled, “Aunt Jiang Ai, don’t be like that. Since Yan Ke can’t control you, he’ll certainly accelerate his preparations to avoid complications and rebel as soon as possible. This works well for me to see which others harbor disloyalty, saving me the trouble of hunting them down one by one. I’ll need your support then.”

“Of course. But… Simu, why did you choose this time?” Jiang Ai was puzzled, as He Simu had known about these matters for over three hundred years.

He Simu thought for a moment and said, “Actually, I’ve been waiting for him to rebel for a long time, but he never did. I wasn’t in a hurry.”

Perhaps because she didn’t know which way to go after avenging her father. She had been walking on a fog-shrouded path with the light of revenge guiding her, but after that, even the light would be gone.

After a pause, He Simu continued, “But recently, I feel it’s time to bring this to a close. I should move forward.”

Jiang Ai found He Simu’s expression familiar—it was the same expression she always had when mentioning that young friend in the human world. Though she hadn’t mentioned him directly, Jiang Ai had a feeling He Simu was referring to him.

In the human world, having secured Jing Province and with the Qi Province rebels willing to submit, Duan Xu began contemplating an attack on You Province. Conveniently, the Danzhi general stationed in You Province was his old acquaintance, Feng Lai, who years ago had led troops across the river to capture two provinces and nearly reached the Southern Capital.

That struggle for the crown prince position, which had cost Danzhi three provinces, had finally concluded. The sixth prince, whom Feng Lai supported, had secured his position as crown prince. Feng Lai had received numerous rewards and became Danzhi’s Grand General, normally not required to personally go to the front lines. However, upon hearing that the Great Liang army was led by Duan Xu, Feng Lai immediately jumped up, demanding to lead the expedition. He brought a hundred thousand elite troops to You Province, beheaded the generals who had failed to suppress the rebellions in Jing and Qi Provinces and appeared determined to avenge his previous defeat by driving Duan Xu back and reclaiming all the lost territory.

Duan Xu couldn’t help feeling the beheaded generals had been treated unjustly. The Jing Province general had believed Tang Dequan intended to surrender to Danzhi, so his suppression efforts were half-hearted. Who could have expected Duan Xu to muddy those waters? By the time he wanted to seriously suppress the rebellion, it was too late. As for the Qi Province general, though diligent, he faced the Zhao family with deep roots in the region—half the population bore the Zhao surname, all connected by kinship. The Zhao family had thoroughly infiltrated Qi Province’s government and military through years of networking, making their uprising irresistible once launched.

Of course, the most crucial factor was You Province itself—a strategic location with heavily guarded passes. With Great Liang’s armies watching vigilantly from the Yun and Luo Provinces, Danzhi couldn’t easily divert troops to suppress rebellions.

Duan Xu leisurely arrived in Qi Province and engaged in diplomatic maneuvering with Zhao Xing, reassuring him by citing the comfortable life of Qian Chengyi, who had surrendered Wei Province. Zhao Xing hinted both openly and subtly that he didn’t want to leave Qi Province to receive his title in the Southern Capital. Understanding his calculations, Duan Xu explained that since the Zhao family had deep roots in Qi Province if anything happened to Zhao Xing in the Southern Capital, there would be severe repercussions in Qi Province. Therefore, Great Liang would make every effort to ensure his safety. Besides, the Southern Capital was far more prosperous, offering a much more comfortable life than Qi Province.

Both Duan Xu and Zhao Xing understood that if Zhao Xing left Qi Province, he wouldn’t be able to return for at least twenty years. Zhao Xing was different from Qian Chengyi; the latter was a righteous outlaw without significant influence in Wei Province, while Zhao Xing was essentially a local emperor in Qi Province, controlling officials, merchants, and the military. Leaving him in Qi Province would create an unmanageable threat, so naturally, he needed to be kept under the Emperor’s watchful eye.

At this time, news arrived from the Southern Capital that the Emperor had fainted and remained unconscious for five days. The Imperial Astronomers calculated that this was because the Northern Breaking Army Star had shown unusual signs that affected the Emperor, and this star happened to correspond to the Qi Province area.

The Emperor immediately issued an edict postponing Zhao Xing’s journey to the Southern Capital to receive his title. Zhao Xing was delighted, while Duan Xu found the situation somewhat troublesome. Fortunately, although Zhao Xing wouldn’t follow his instructions, at least he wouldn’t cause problems from behind, so Duan Xu temporarily set the matter aside.

“What’s going on with the Imperial Astronomers? How could Imperial Preceptor Feng Yi allow them to calculate such things?” Duan Xu couldn’t help but sigh.

Luo Xian, who had brought him the news from the Southern Capital, sat in the tent and said indifferently, “Imperial Preceptor Feng Yi has left the Southern Capital to travel and is no longer the Imperial Preceptor. The people in the Imperial Observatory are working hard to present more divinations to the Emperor to secure their positions.”

“The Imperial Preceptor has left the Southern Capital?” Duan Xu was somewhat surprised.

He Jia Feng Yi generally wouldn’t leave the Southern Capital due to his duty to protect the royal family. His departure now—could something have happened in the Ghost Realm? When Simu had visited him earlier, she had mentioned recent unrest in the Ghost Realm.

Duan Xu crossed his hands before his lips, deep in thought, when he heard Luo Xian continue, “There’s also recent news that something has happened with Lord Fang. He has been demoted.”