The Emperor An’he sat upright upon the Dragon Throne, continuing to scratch the back of his hand, while the Rong Family head’s words echoed in his mind. He was no fool — he understood perfectly that the Rong Family head’s proposal to have Lang Jiuchuan keep a widow’s vigil was driven largely by personal grievance. But he didn’t care.
A person who harbored no selfish motives was the sort who truly invited wariness. The Rong Family head had been forced to cripple his only heir with his own hands, and had exposed such an unspeakable secret in the process. If after all of that he still bore no shred of hatred or desire for vengeance toward Lang Jiuchuan, then that would be far more frightening — and far more suspicious.
He didn’t think the Rong Family head meant to drag the imperial house into a battle as some tool to fight his enemies. The Rong Family head was already cornered with nowhere to retreat. Rong Huanxuan had been crippled. The only remaining candidate for the Rong Family’s next heir was that Rong the Fourth, sitting in his wheelchair — yet that man had long played the role of an invisible man, and with both legs rendered useless besides. Had he ever been willing to step forward and lead the Rong Family, would the position of Young Lord have ever fallen to Rong Huanxuan?
The Rong Family was already of the second tier. Within half a year’s span, two elders had fallen, along with several capable subordinates — their strength had been declining without pause. The Rong Family head’s only option was to find a powerful backer to rely upon.
He could not choose the Gong Family. The Feng Family was nothing but a reed swaying in the wind. Beyond the imperial house — what other choice did he have?
None.
So the Emperor An’he had no worry that the Rong Family head intended to harm the imperial house. The moment the imperial house fell, the Rong Family would inevitably fall with it.
Bound by this shared interest, the Rong Family head could only hope to see the Tantai clan’s power grow stronger and stronger — not to be crushed beneath another’s heel.
What the Emperor An’he was truly considering was the matter of Lang Jiuchuan herself — and the fate calculation performed by the clan’s guardian elder, cross-referencing her eight birth characters. The phoenix pressing down upon the dragon’s head. A fate configuration of peculiar and uncanny design. Did this mean that if she were to enter the imperial household, she would immediately ride above the Tantai clan entirely?
If that were so, she could never be allowed to pass through those doors.
And yet, if he did not cage her within the deep recesses of the imperial palace, her fate configuration — combined with her close alliance with the Gong Family — would pose a grave and mounting threat to the imperial house. That was not something he or the Tantai clan wished to see.
On the other hand, if he followed what the Rong Family head proposed and truly set his heart on marrying her in — would she not proceed to curse them all one by one?
Caught astride the tiger, unable to move forward or back. Trapped from every angle.
The Emperor An’he was deeply vexed. He genuinely did not know what to do with Lang Jiuchuan anymore.
The chief eunuch carefully offered a suggestion: “Why not summon the elders to deliberate? Or arrange a meeting with Miss Lang — after all, Your Majesty has issued a marriage decree; receiving her in audience would be entirely appropriate.”
The Emperor An’he paused mid-step. The logic was sound. He promptly sent for the elders — the one who had performed the fate calculation in particular.
Yet before the elder could arrive, Elder Ruoxu came first, requesting an audience. Upon entering the hall, he implored the Emperor An’he to retract the imperial marriage decree.
“What is the meaning of this?” the Emperor An’he asked.
Elder Ruoxu had grown visibly frail of late. Upon learning of Prince Jing’s death — and moreover, that the one who had come to collect his soul was the Black Impermanence himself — he felt a bone-deep chill permeate his entire being.
“Your Majesty, since the marriage decree was issued, Prince Jing has died, the third prince has been gravely wounded, and Your Majesty has, in truth, been suffering from poor health as well, has that not been so?”
The Emperor An’he’s pupils contracted sharply. The scratching motion on the back of his hand froze. His eyes, like the keen gaze of a hawk, fixed upon Elder Ruoxu.
Ruoxu showed no fear. “Your Majesty, on that day, this old Daoist was present in the Prince Jing’s residence. With his own eyes, he witnessed the Gates of the Underworld open within the sleeping quarters. The two former wives of Prince Jing came every night at midnight to gnaw away at the Prince’s flesh. Both women have been dead for many years and have already descended to the realm of the Yellow Springs — yet without having gone through rebirth, they were able to emerge from the Underworld Gates and take their revenge, coming and going freely. And why? Because their persons had received the blessing and protection of the Panguan of the Underworld, shielding them from the dragon aura that guards the imperial family. This old Daoist witnessed the Book of Life and Death manifest before his eyes — this is clearly a warning, Your Majesty.”
He had been unconscious during all of this — so naturally the Emperor An’he had known nothing of these events. Hearing this, his brow furrowed deeply and tightly. He looked down at his own hand and instinctively pushed up his sleeve. Apart from the chief eunuch, Elder Ruoxu caught sight of the arm beneath — and drew in a sharp, hissing breath.
Beneath the imperial robe, the exposed arm was mottled with a mass of purple-dark bruising and scarring. And that was not to mention the welt-marks of invisible lashes across the back — even despite the use of talismans, the markings had not faded.
“These marks upon Our body — they were caused by those two wretches as well?” The Emperor An’he’s expression turned glacial and savage. “The realms of yin and yang are ordered and distinct. We are the emperor of the mortal world, the true son of heaven. Would the Panguan of the Underworld dare to violate the boundary between yin and yang, and direct underworld sorcery against Our person? Does he not fear the judgment of the Way of Heaven?”
Could anything be more absurd than this?
The underworld and the mortal world were two separate realms, each governed by its own authority. The Panguan held dominion over the Book of Life and Death — but that dominion applied to those who were already dead. This was overstepping the boundary. And the Way of Heaven simply permits this?
It was impossible!
“Your Majesty, perhaps this is a warning? If it was Your Majesty who first committed a transgression—”
“What transgression has the Emperor committed?” The Emperor An’he’s fury erupted, his eyes widening to the size of copper bells.
He, the sovereign of the world, was incapable of transgression.
Elder Ruoxu said carefully: “Your Majesty — all of these events began only after the marriage decree was issued. Might it be that the decree itself was flawed in some way, such that the Underworld holds standing to act on righteous grounds?”
“What manner of flaw?” The Emperor An’he was genuinely perplexed. How could a simple marriage decree be flawed?
“Your Majesty, if this woman already had a prior marriage pact, and Your Majesty then issued a decree over it — that would be forcing a woman into a second marriage and sundering a fated union by force…”
“We have never heard of any prior betrothal for the Lang clan’s ninth daughter,” the Emperor An’he cut him off. “Moreover, those who have had existing betrothals and then received an imperial marriage decree — have We issued so few of those? To name one close to hand: even Prince Jing’s second consort, the Chen woman, was not also—”
He suddenly choked.
That Chen woman had indeed had a prior betrothal. Yet he was the emperor — his decree had the power to void any such prior arrangement between the Chen family and their intended match.
Sundering fated unions by force. And not only once.
The Emperor An’he’s face turned a shade of green, as though he had swallowed something foul.
Elder Ruoxu, thoroughly spent, said: “This is precisely the problem, Your Majesty. What if the marriage pact she holds was a ghost marriage? In that case, the Underworld would have every justification to uphold justice — and the Way of Heaven would naturally have no grounds to punish them for it.”
The Emperor An’he stood dumbstruck, lips moving soundlessly: “The Underworld is that idle, that it concerns itself with even such matters — and crosses its boundary to meddle in mortal affairs?”
Elder Ruoxu replied: “Your Majesty, it is not that the Underworld acts out of idle caprice. What if they had no choice but to act?”
“What do you mean?”
“Lang Jiuchuan.” Elder Ruoxu knit his brows and spoke. “This woman caused the Golden Lotus to appear and bear witness to the Dao — since the founding of Great Pei, she is the only one in whose honor such an auspicious sign has appeared. Elder Cheng said her fate configuration was too peculiar to be fully read, that nothing could be calculated from it — and is this not itself a kind of hint? That it is a heavenly secret, too deep to be revealed, and thus cannot be read. This old Daoist has heard from several of the elders that when Prince Jing died, it was the Black Impermanence himself who came in person to collect the soul. This woman has also made use of the Impermanence’s presence on multiple occasions to issue warnings and provocations against the Rong Family head — and the Impermanence showed not the slightest sign of displeasure.”
The Emperor An’he drew in a sharp breath, and immediately grasped the crux of what had just been said. “Your meaning is that she has already become powerful enough that even the ghost messengers of the Underworld cannot do anything to her?”
Elder Ruoxu shook his head slowly and sighed. “It falls far short of that. If all of this was something she deliberately set in motion — drawing on the power of the Underworld for her own ends?”
The Emperor An’he’s shock deepened. To call it borrowing the Underworld’s power was, in truth, to say she wielded it as leverage — that Lang Jiuchuan, dissatisfied with this marriage decree, had found herself a patron to stand up for her. And the patron she had found was not some powerful figure who governed mortal affairs — but the ghosts and gods of the Underworld itself.
And with this single strike she had landed a killing blow. It was both a warning and a display of overwhelming might — and moreover, a demonstration of force?
It was simply outrageous. If you are displeased, then be displeased — mortal matters are for mortals to resolve. Why drag the realm of the dead into it?
The rebellious streak in the Emperor An’he surged to the surface. His face darkened. “The imperial marriage decree has been issued. An emperor does not take back his word. What if We insisted she honor this betrothal?”
Boom!
Bang!
From outside came an enormous crashing sound — something had come hurtling down and struck the ground. Swiftly, a palace guard rushed inside to beg forgiveness.
“What has happened?” the chief eunuch bellowed.
The guard trembled as he replied: “Your Majesty — the rooftop beast ornament of the hall has been struck down by lightning.”
The chief eunuch immediately dropped to his knees, his face drained of all color.
The Emperor An’he: “—!”
The rooftop beast ornament — the creature with the dragon’s head and the body of a fish, known as the Dragon Maw — was one of the nine sons of the dragon, a guardian against demons and an averter of evil, set upon the roof of the hall for a hundred years without incident. And now it had been struck by lightning?