When the sun rose, Jiang Ai saw He Simu on the streets of Yuzhou City. She was walking alone, her pace slowed as if she were taking a stroll to clear her mind, lost in thought.
Jiang Ai walked up beside her and pointed at He Simu’s mouth corner with curiosity, “Your Majesty, what’s that on the corner of your mouth?”
He Simu touched the corner of her mouth and said, “Just some medicine.”
Jiang Ai was even more surprised—why would an evil ghost need medicine? She immediately thought of that young friend in the human world, but seeing He Simu’s expression, she swallowed her question.
They walked side by side through the streets of Yuzhou City. With the ghost realm in turmoil, each hall master had returned to their territory to lead their ghost armies. Some had rebelled, while those who remained loyal to the current ruler followed He Simu’s orders to suppress the rebellion. Few evil ghosts remained in Yuzhou City.
“Bai San Xing has been performing well lately,” He Simu remarked casually.
“He wants nothing more than to tear Yan Ke apart alive. Of course, he fights most fiercely on the battlefield. Yan Ke can’t use the Ghost King’s Lantern, and with his powers alone, he’s no match for you,” Jiang Ai said, then added curiously, “Why can’t Yan Ke use the Ghost King’s Lantern? His powers aren’t weak; he should be able to control it.”
He Simu smiled lightly and said casually, “As long as I still exist, he’ll never be able to use the Ghost King’s Lantern.”
They walked to an open corner of the street and saw a patch of autumn begonias in full bloom along the roadside, their brilliance stretching to the end of the street. He Simu stopped, crouched down to look at these graceful flowers, and in her mind appeared the map of Yuzhou City that Duan Xu had drawn.
Autumn begonias, lovesick grass. This cluster of flowers was light pink, like the afterglow of a setting sun in autumn—the faint layer that spreads across the horizon after the sun has set. Their scent was subtle, a bit cold, like dew mixed with a touch of perfume.
Seeing the begonias, Jiang Ai seemed to remember something and said, “Those wood materials and pigments you requested have arrived and are stacked at the foot of the back mountain. Cinnabar, red lead, carbon black, stone green, orpiment—what kind of palace are you planning to build? Something so colorful? You can’t even distinguish the colors.”
He Simu remained silent. She reached out to touch the autumn begonias and suddenly asked Jiang Ai, “Aunt Jiang, do you still remember what pain feels like?”
Jiang Ai was taken aback. After pondering for a moment, she said with some frustration, “I’ve forgotten, only remembering that it’s an unpleasant feeling.”
“How strange, even though I can’t feel it,” He Simu said softly.
Why would she feel pain? From the moment she saw Duan Xu until now.
Jiang Ai, Bai San Xing, He Zhi, and even her distant parents and relatives had said she was powerful, and that she would be the strongest Ghost King.
Was that true?
She had never felt so desperate before—desperate to possess the power to protect him, to rescue him from aging, illness, suffering, and death.
But she was powerless; she could not fight against the cycle of birth, aging, illness, and death of mortals.
She despised her powerlessness.
Duan Xu had brought ten thousand soldiers from the front lines, stationed outside the Southern Capital, ostensibly to pay respects to the new emperor after returning victorious. But if the new emperor refused to let him return to the front lines, these soldiers would serve another purpose.
After his fever subsided, Duan Xu rested for a few days, then, ignoring the advice of the doctor and his sister, rode out of the city to visit the military camp outside. He moved slowly through the streets of the Southern Capital, but once outside the city, he galloped swiftly. The north wind blew his clothes and hair ribbons, while in the winter, trees were barren and dust flew. The scenery rushed past him.
When still some distance from the military camp, his horse suddenly neighed and stopped, even backing up a few steps. Duan Xu stroked the horse’s mane and, through the swirling dust, saw a group of people in armor carrying weapons—soldier-like figures who had suddenly appeared before him as if they had emerged from the ground.
Judging by their appearance, these soldier-like figures were not his men, nor were they the imperial guards from the city. Given their mysterious appearance and eerie aura, these pale-faced, black-eyed soldiers were probably not human at all.
Duan Xu pulled on the reins, thinking that Simu’s battle must not be over yet.
“Be careful, Lord Duan!” a shout came from somewhere, and suddenly three cultivators in Daoist robes appeared in front of Duan Xu’s horse.
Duan Xu looked with surprise at these three young men in white robes. They muttered incantations and threw an umbrella-shaped magical instrument above his head, quickly forming a magical array around him. The group of evil ghosts swarmed like a black cloud, and the cultivators drew their swords and began to fight, like lightning splitting through black clouds, with ashes flying everywhere.
Duan Xu dismounted from his horse, looked at the golden magical array beneath his feet, then at the magical instrument above his head, feeling quite peculiar about being protected by others.
“May I ask who you three young heroes are?” he called out.
“We are disciples of Xingqing Palace, sent by Senior Brother Feng Yi to protect you,” one of the cultivators replied while busy killing ghosts.
As expected. Duan Xu watched them fight back and forth, a domain entirely foreign to him, so he held his sword and leaned against his horse, obediently standing within the magical array. Any evil ghost that tried to approach him was repelled by the array and could only rage wildly outside the golden light.
A tall, thin cultivator in white flew over, killed an evil ghost outside the array with one sword strike, and was about to turn back to rejoin the battle when his steps suddenly halted.
The cultivator slowly turned his head to look at Duan Xu, raised his hand somewhat stiffly to retrieve the magical instrument, and dispelled the array. Duan Xu’s gaze sharpened.
“What are you doing, Mu Xi?” his companion shouted.
Before the words faded, Duan Xu’s Pomo Sword had already been drawn and placed against the cultivator’s neck. Duan Xu narrowed his eyes, smiling as he said, “Come out of his body, Yan Ke.”
The cultivator was silent for a moment, then said, “You have keen eyes.”
Having said this, he lowered his gaze to look at the sword at his neck, then raised his eyes and said, “Are you going to kill this cultivator who came to save you?”
Duan Xu’s eyes flickered.
The ghost-possessed cultivator moved away with his sword, turning against the remaining two. Those two cultivators were both shocked and angry, already struggling to resist the encirclement of numerous evil ghosts.
Evil ghost soldiers who managed to approach Duan Xu were slashed to pieces by his Pomo Sword; he was still more than capable of dealing with evil ghosts of this level. He had called out to He Simu earlier, but there was no sign of her appearing. It seemed she had already entrusted him to He Zhi. Seeing that the ghostly black cloud was about to engulf the two cultivators, Duan Xu thought for a moment, realized that they were no match for Yan Ke anyway, and simply placed his Pomo Sword against his neck.
“Yan Ke, let’s make a deal,” he called out loudly.
The possessed cultivator turned his head, black eyes looking at Duan Xu.
“You came to capture me, surely you don’t want to take back just a corpse? I’ll go with you, just release these three young heroes, and… my horse,” Duan Xu said with a smile, pointing to the fine steed beside him.
The cultivator looked at Duan Xu for a while, then waved his hand, and the attacking evil ghosts stopped. A tall, solemn blue-robed evil ghost emerged from the cultivator’s body, walked through the ashes of the fallen evil ghosts, approached Duan Xu, and said coldly, “Duan Xu, let’s see how long you can keep smiling.”
Duan Xu sheathed his sword, his eyes full of mirth until he saw the Ghost King’s Lantern jade pendant at Yan Ke’s waist, and his smile faded.
Yan Ke said he would make Duan Xu unable to smile, and indeed he kept his word.
Duan Xu was blindfolded and taken to an unknown location, where he was subjected to severe torture, a long-absent expression of rage. His lip was split, and it hurt to smile. Tied to a rack, he felt that few parts of his body remained unharmed; the last time he had been injured this badly was perhaps during his confrontation with Fifteen. Having just vomited blood and run a fever, then enduring such an ordeal, he wondered if his body could withstand it.
Perhaps the fading pain sensation was a good thing; otherwise, he might have fainted from the pain. At this moment, no matter how those evil ghosts torturing him cursed and shouted, Duan Xu just tilted his head—pretending to be dead.
Suddenly, the voices of the surrounding evil ghosts quieted down, and footsteps approached.
Duan Xu thought it was probably Yan Ke.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Reporting to Your Majesty, he’s been beaten unconscious,” the torturer ghost said fawningly.
Your Majesty? Had Yan Ke already proclaimed himself king? Why was the Ghost King’s Lantern with him? What had happened to Simu?
A series of questions flashed through Duan Xu’s mind as he heard Yan Ke laugh coldly and say, “Simu, you protected him well enough. It took me quite some effort to get my hands on him.”
Duan Xu’s heart instantly tightened. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and in the complete silence, He Simu’s voice rang out. It seemed to come from some magical device, sounding distant and muffled.
“Oh? So you know you’re finished, starting to do such things,” He Simu’s voice was casual and calm after a year’s separation.
“Last time you were willing to exchange the Ghost King’s Lantern for his life. What will you exchange this time?” Yan Ke said quietly.
Exchange the Ghost King’s Lantern for his life.
Duan Xu was stunned.
Everything from their parting a year ago rapidly flashed through his mind, from He Simu’s gaze to Xue Chen Ying’s consolation afterward, stopping at a sentence Xue Chen Ying had said—it was Sister Xiaoxiao who brought back the antidote.
The day she left, she didn’t seem to have the Ghost King’s Lantern with her.
So He Simu had exchanged the Ghost King’s Lantern for his antidote. At such a critical moment, He Simu had lost the Ghost King’s Lantern, which was why the war that could have ended in half a year has continued until today.
Duan Xu’s heart sank and sank to the bottom of a lake half-filled with ice water and half with flames. He slowly clenched his fist.
He Simu laughed and said, “Hahaha, exchange what? Aren’t you clear about the Ghost King’s Lantern I exchanged with you? I have already been exceedingly kind to him, and now there is no relationship between us. If you want to kill him, go ahead.”
“He Simu!” Yan Ke’s voice suddenly rose. He seemed to have thrown something, causing a loud crash. He said angrily, “What did you do to the Ghost King’s Lantern? Why? Why can’t I use it?”
For a moment, the room was silent, then laughter came.
“Hahaha… Poor Yan Ke, for three hundred years you’ve tried to find my weakness but couldn’t. Now you have the Ghost King’s Lantern but can’t use it. You can’t defeat me, can’t kill me, and yet you’ve fallen in love with me. How can there be someone as foolish as you?”
After a pause, He Simu said calmly, “I might as well tell you, three hundred years ago, I played a piece of my soul and melded it into the Ghost King’s Lantern. The Ghost King’s Lantern is indeed what you’ve been dreaming of—my weakness.”
These words seemed to pierce Yan Ke’s heart; he was visibly stunned.
He Simu’s voice floated vaguely, seeming both pitying and provocative. She said, “If you want to kill me, destroy the Ghost King’s Lantern. But can you bear to do it?”
Without the supreme treasure of the Ghost King’s Lantern, how could Yan Ke withstand the combined forces of Jiang Ai and Bai San Xing? How could he legitimately become the Ghost King? Evil ghosts were born of desire, and those evil ghosts who fought for power possessed an incurable greed. Which one could destroy the Ghost King’s Lantern after struggling so hard to obtain it?
But as long as He Simu had not turned to dust, as long as that piece of her soul remained in the Ghost King’s Lantern, without her permission, no one could wield the lantern.
The only way to obtain the Ghost King’s Lantern was to destroy it.
This was the deadly trap she had set for every evil ghost who coveted the throne since she entered the ghost realm.