Ch53 – Spirit and soul returned to body

Translator: Abo Dammen

The Emperor steadied himself with the support of the attendants, yet dared not look directly into Jing Liansheng’s eyes. 

Those blood-red pupils against black sclera… Just one glance was enough to send a chill through his entire body, evoking a primal, instinctive fear of death deep within.

Head bowed, his voice trembling, he asked, “Liansheng… wh-what happened… how did you… become a ghost? Heaven and earth as my witness, I never issued an edict to have you killed! Although I was displeased with you in many ways, you are my only son, the Crown Prince I placed all my hopes in. How could I bear to lay a hand on you?”

As he spoke, the Emperor secretly felt relieved that, for the sake of his reputation, he had never explicitly ordered Jing Liansheng’s death nor appeared personally.

Yet this was nothing more than “covering one’s ears to steal a bell”, a futile attempt at self-deception. 

How could Jing Liansheng not understand?

But seeing his once lofty sovereign father now trembling before him, he had no mind to dwell on such foolish lies.

What mattered was not that.

Jing Liansheng’s thin lips parted slightly. “Your Majesty, what exactly did you wish for from the Ancient Lotus?” 

The Emperor froze at the question, cold sweat beading on his temples, yet he forced himself to remain composed. “Naturally… naturally it was for the Lotus Kingdom’s hundred years of prosperity.”

“Why not speak the truth?” Jing Liansheng asked.

Fear surged in the Emperor’s heart, but he still gritted his teeth and said, “How is that not the truth?”

Jing Liansheng replied, “The greater the wish, the higher the price. To pray for national fortune, the wisher likely must pay a price too heavy to bear. I imagine you would have considered this and thus chosen a wish with a smaller cost, one more advantageous to yourself.” 

The Emperor’s pupils contracted sharply, his eyes widening in shock. The color drained instantly from his face.

He opened his mouth, but his throat went dry. Not a single sound could escape.

He inwardly cursed. This was precisely what he despised about Jing Liansheng.

Jing Liansheng was keen, direct, and clear, always able to expose the filth in the Emperor’s heart, leaving it nowhere to hide. 

The Emperor had only this one son, whom he both loved and hated. Sometimes he even thought that if only Jing Liansheng were a bit more dull, a bit more obedient… he would be perfect.

Jing Liansheng was right. The Emperor had indeed not wished for a century of prosperity. That wish was too grand, its price inevitably too heavy. What he had asked of the Ancient Lotus was for himself, to have a life of ease, for his imperial authority to remain unshaken by any force.

And the Ancient Lotus had responded in a dream. The price was to offer a blood relative as sacrifice.

In the Emperor’s view, though a heavy price, it was not one he could not pay. After all, when it concerned the throne and imperial power, sacrifice was inevitable. 

Now, however, a wave of cold dread rose in his heart. He stared blankly at Jing Liansheng, his mind echoing the wish he had made. For his own life to be secure, for his power to be unshakable.

But what if my life ends today?

And “unshaken by any force”… what if the one shaking me is… a ghost?

Wouldn’t the Ancient Lotus still have fulfilled my wish? 

An unprecedented terror gripped the Emperor. His legs went weak, nearly causing him to collapse again. Luckily, the quick-witted attendant caught him before he could fall in disgrace.

The Emperor gasped, yet still forced himself to appear calm. “I… I indeed only wished for… stability of the land… during my lifetime. But… that is also beneficial to the people.” His voice trembled now, fear barely contained. “If you kill me, the throne will have no heir, the dragons will have no head. With enemies encircling us, the Lotus Kingdom will inevitably descend into chaos. The people will be left in fire and water. Surely you do not wish to see that either!”

Jing Liansheng was not the least bit surprised. He had anticipated the Emperor would use the land and its people to restrain him, just as he had anticipated he would one day die at the hands of his closest kin at midnight.

He merely said lightly, “Then I request, Your Majesty, that you be a wise ruler.” 

“Wh-what?” The Emperor froze.

Jing Liansheng’s gaze softened, as if recalling something. “I remember, in Your Majesty’s youth, you were also a man worthy of respect… You know clearly what the correct course of action is. It is not that you cannot act, but that you are unwilling.”

At these words, the Emperor felt a complex surge of emotions.

He recalled the various things from his youth. Back then, he indeed had the bearing of a noble, but that was because he was still young and had not yet obtained the throne. His former self as a virtuous prince felt like a lifetime away. 

The dragon throne could chill a man’s heart to ice, and the Ancient Lotus was adept at turning desire into greed.

The Emperor’s jaw trembled as he looked at Jing Liansheng. “You mean…”

“Do not entrust your wishes to the Ancient Lotus,” Jing Liansheng said. “Do you truly believe that a pure lotus can bloom from filth, fulfilling mortal desires? It is nothing but a deception.”

The Emperor naturally believed in the Ancient Lotus and certainly did not think it was a fraud. 

Yet under the oppressive weight of Jing Liansheng’s blood-red eyes set against black sclera, he could only lower his head and whisper, “Yes… yes, I understand. I will not call for blood relatives as a sacrifice, nor will I rely on the Ancient Lotus. From now on, I will govern diligently and love the people, and will no longer neglect my duties.”

“Very well.” Jing Liansheng’s voice drifted away. “Your son takes his leave.”

The Emperor shivered in terror for a long time, his heart pounding like a drum, as if it might leap out of his chest at any moment. He kept his eyes tightly shut, afraid that a single glance would meet those blood-red eyes. A long time passed without a sound from Jing Liansheng before the oppressive atmosphere slightly eased.

Still, he dared not lift his head, only giving a subtle signal to the attendant. 

The attendant understood at once, cautiously lifted his gaze, scanned the room, and then exhaled in relief. “He… he is gone.”

The Emperor felt as if a great weight had been lifted, collapsing back into his chair as if all the strength had been drained from his body.

Just as he began to relax, he vaguely glimpsed those same blood-red eyes, as if Jing Liansheng were still standing before him. He was startled violently and immediately ordered the release of the blood relatives he had previously detained.

Seeing the sea of blood outside the hall, the Emperor was overwhelmed with panic. Realizing that even the elite of the Lotus Sect could not subdue this vengeful ghost, he felt utterly hopeless and could only submit. 

The Empress fell gravely ill, gradually wasting away, her spirit wilting.

A skilled practitioner was summoned to the palace. He carefully examined the Empress’s complexion, then looked at the blood-streaked jade bracelet on her wrist, frowning. He said slowly, “The blood-stained jade bracelet is an ill omen, tainted with resentment. If Her Majesty wishes to recover, she must remove the bracelet and perform proper prayers and fasting. Perhaps then there will be some hope.”

The Empress was stunned for a long moment. She slowly raised her hand, lightly tracing the blood-streaked bracelet with her fingers, and whispered, “Let it be…”

Thus, before she even completed her forty-nine days of mourning, the Empress passed away in quiet despair. On her deathbed, she instructed that the bracelet be buried with the Crown Prince as a funerary companion. 

Jing Liansheng was given a grand funeral befitting a Crown Prince.

At the ceremony, the Emperor personally supported the coffin. It was a sight that moved all who witnessed it to tears.

The Emperor returned to diligent governance, sweeping away corrupt officials with thunderous resolve and meticulously handling state affairs.

Yet whenever he allowed himself even a moment of relaxation, he would dream of Jing Liansheng. 

Forget indulgence and excess—simply eating one extra bowl of rice or rising in the night would trigger an encounter. “Your son has come again to admonish you from beyond death.”

He had to rise in the dead of night and review documents before he could find reprieve.

Over time, the Emperor’s body grew weaker. Perhaps because of this, he saw Jing Liansheng more often. The weaker he became, the more easily he was haunted by the ghost. As his health deteriorated, Jing Liansheng’s apparition began appearing not only in dreams but also in his waking hours.

While strolling in the imperial gardens, the Emperor would see Jing Liansheng standing beneath a distant tree, coldly watching him, silently urging him back to work. While discussing matters in court, he would hear Jing Liansheng’s low, cruel judgments whispering in his ear. 

The Emperor’s mental state gradually collapsed. He dared not sleep alone, requiring attendants to stay at his bedside each night. Yet even then, Jing Liansheng’s ghost followed him like a shadow, tormenting his nerves.

Finally, the Emperor reached the limits of both body and mind.

His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken, and he could no longer focus on state affairs. Under Jing Liansheng’s coercion, he appointed a virtuous relative as Crown Prince. The night he drafted the edict, the Emperor sat alone in the imperial study. He accidentally dropped a cup of already-cold tea.

Outside the window, thunder rumbled and lightning split the night sky, illuminating his pale face. The candle flickered out, plunging the room into darkness. Moments later, an attendant entered, holding a newly lit lamp. As he approached the desk, the sight before him froze him in place. 

The Emperor was slumped over the desk, his body twisted unnaturally. His hands gripped the edges of the desk so tightly that his knuckles whitened, his nails broken and embedded into the wood, leaving trails of blood.

The attendant’s heart raced. Trembling, he raised the lamp, revealing the Emperor’s face. It was twisted, streaked with fresh blood at the mouth, his eyes wide with dilated pupils, filled with ultimate terror, despair, and pain, as though he had witnessed the most horrifying nightmare at the very end of his life.

The attendant fell in panic, unaware that Jing Liansheng’s ghost stood silently behind him.

Jing Liansheng’s gaze was deep, as if he had considered countless thoughts, yet in the end, he merely turned silently and dissipated into a wisp of smoke, drifting slowly toward the Crown Prince’s tomb. 

This malevolent, vengeful spirit would rest in the tomb for a thousand years, until the descendants of the Jing family eventually broke through its grave…

Having witnessed Jing Liansheng’s life, Bai Qing felt profound sorrow.

His heart contracted painfully, a sharp ache rising uncontrollably. Yet before he could fully detach from these emotions, his soul was pulled from this time and space, instantly returning to the modern era.

In the next instant, Bai Qing’s consciousness was restored, back to the moment he was being swallowed by the black mud. 

The swamp behind the Xuanmen Sect’s mountain had engulfed his body. He struggled to shake off Jing Liansheng, allowing himself to sink into the mire. Jing Liansheng collapsed to the ground, eyes flashing with disbelief.

Lin Zhao and the others were equally stunned and were about to move to console him.