The Nine Province Alliance renewed their assault on the Jade Capital. This time, the city fell without resistance. The reason was simple. The Red Lotus Cult’s disciples who had defended it were gone. Peng Chao’s assassination attempt had been his last desperate gambit. With his death, the remaining cultists lost their will to fight. Soon, a clamor erupted from the city’s northwest corner, the sounds of steel and shouts ringing faintly through the snow. Li Yuan couldn’t sense that far, but he didn’t need to. He remained seated in the central command tent, dignified and unmoving, as messengers came and went, carrying reports of the unfolding battle. The Son of Heaven never needed to ride at the frontlines. Even though everyone knew his personal strength was far from weak, the court would never allow the Emperor to gamble his life on open ground. “Reporting to Your Majesty, the Lotus Cult is attempting a breakout!” “Reporting to Your Majesty, the forces of Harmony, Wildsouth, and Swallowcloud Province have crushed the rebels. Scattered remnants are being hunted down!” “Reporting to Your Majesty—!” “Reporting to Your Majesty—!” One after another, the reports poured in, none of them surprising. Li Yuan barely reacted. His thoughts were elsewhere, on the Jade Capital itself, or more specifically, on a place deep within it—Apparel Atelier. He had no doubt in his mind. The Apparel Atelier was far more dangerous than his own Ghost Prison ever was. Later that day, escorted by the hundreds of thousands of soldiers under the nine governors, Li Yuan returned to the Jade Capital. But the imperial city he came back to was hardly the one he remembered. Entire districts lay in ruins, and the palace…the once-proud imperial palace stood teetering on the edge of total collapse. Its splendor had rotted away into desolation. The halls were silent, its courtyards shattered, like a kingdom of ghosts. There was no place fit for an emperor to live now, so Li Yuan temporarily took residence in another surviving palace nearby. Not long after, a steady stream of memorials began arriving from every corner of the Great Zhou Empire. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡⚫𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢⚫𝘯𝘦𝘵 Most of them reported two things. The first were the spoils of war, the artifacts, wealth, and people seized by the forces of the nine provincial governors. The second were the tributes presented for the rebuilding of the imperial palace, also artifacts and manpower, carefully packaged and reverently offered to the throne. The treasures were grand in appearance but mostly ornamental…beautiful, rare, and utterly useless. The war was over, but the game was just beginning. The tributes began arriving in waves, which included servants, guards, attendants, and…women. Many of these women were former disciples of the Lotus Cult. Their names had already been carefully recorded into neat ledgers, now laid open before Li Yuan. He flipped through them lazily, his expression flat. This was the usual dance. Every provincial governor was vying for favor, inserting spies into the palace under the guise of gifts. But he knew perfectly well that the real authority over the imperial palace would not rest with him, at least not yet. That power would belong to the Empress when she arrived. Still, he scanned the names, searching out of habit for any familiar ones—Bai Lingshui, perhaps. But of course, there was nothing. Someone like Bai Lingshui, a saintess of the White Lotus Cult, stood far above the rank-and-file disciples listed here. She had either died in battle or vanished into the wind. Seeing nothing of interest, he set the lists aside for the time being and turned his focus elsewhere, on the Apparel Atelier. The Nine Provinces Alliance had already briefed him extensively on it, as well on the Immortal Worship Cult that it controlled. The alliance’s stance toward Apparel Atelier was strikingly unified. First, every single member of the Immortal Worship Cult was to be executed on sight. No exceptions. Second, the entirety of Apparel Atelier and its surroundings was to be sealed off, declared a forbidden zone. And just like that, one of the most terrifying ghost domains in the land had been neutralized, without anyone stepping foot inside. Li Yuan’s gaze deepened, his thoughts heavy. So that was how it was. Ghost domains weren’t invincible after all. No matter how powerful, how strange, how horrifying a ghost domain might be…simply isolate it, and it would become irrelevant. If Apparel Atelier could be neutralized this way, then Yan Yu’s Ghost Prison could be handled the same. If anyone wanted to destroy Yan Yu, the Ghost Street Judge, the strategy was simple. That was to crush the Court of Judges, then seal the Ghost Prison itself. Oh. And of course…kill Li Yuan too. That last part, admittedly, would be much more difficult. At least, he would make sure of it. In the following days, new tributes arrived. This time, it wasn’t ledgers but scrolls. Beautiful, delicate scrolls. Inside were portraits. The temporary palace eunuch bowed low as he unfurled them carefully before Li Yuan, his voice soft and respectful, “Your Majesty, this is the daughter of the Swallowcloud Province governor…this one is from Stellar Sea Province…and this…” Li Yuan didn’t need further explanation. Marriage alliances. The Son of Heaven must take concubines, only then could the governors rest easy. An emperor without a harem was a dangerous emperor. The Empress, Xie Wei, finally arrived in the Jade Capital with the crown prince Ji Hu, accompanied by an entire retinue of Xie Clan maids and guards. The moment she began moving into the palace, the other eight governors immediately grew restless. One by one, their scrolls began arriving in greater frequency, each more lavish than the last. Every governor had their beauties. Every scroll was painted by master artists, each portrait brimming with elegance and charm, the kind of beauty that could silence a room with a single glance. By the time Li Yuan officially moved into the restored palace, his imperial study was drowning in these scrolls, stacked high like drifting piles of autumn leaves. He knew he couldn’t avoid it. He had to choose. If he refused, the eight governors wouldn’t stand for it. And besides…the Emperor should have a harem. It was tradition. In the chaos of war, the previous one had been dissolved. Now it was time to rebuild. Because while the loyal soul acknowledged him, he still had no personal army. No blades that were truly his. And the eight other provincial governors would never tolerate letting Xie Wei’s clan dominate unchecked. The Jade Capital was barely stabilized, the remnants of the Lotus Cult not yet fully purged, and already the shadow games had begun. And so Li Yuan sat there, surrounded by scrolls, obligation pressing down from all sides. But deep down…he didn’t want to choose. Every marriage he’d ever entered into had served a purpose. Each of his wives had given him something…alliances, influence, strength, or paths into worlds he couldn’t otherwise reach. And in return, he had treated them sincerely, as family, because that was what he needed most. Li Yuan didn’t crave more titles or wealth. He craved belonging. He needed family. Since they had chosen to support each other, lean on each other, and share warmth together, to him, that was family. And for family, he was even willing to bend a little, take on grievances, let them win arguments, let them tease him, even let them take advantage of him if it made them happy. But family…real family…wasn’t something you could just add on a whim. Take Gu Xuejian, for example. He’d never once thought about touching her, not because she wasn’t beautiful, but because she had no place in his life, no connection to his path. The women in the scrolls sent by the governors were the same. Li Yuan didn’t doubt that they were remarkable. Many of them were undoubtedly stunning, educated, and graceful, some perhaps even surpassing the wives he already had. But…he simply didn’t want them. There were countless flowers in this world, each one delicate, fragrant, and breathtaking in its own right. But if they didn’t bloom in his garden, then to him…they were just flowers. Pretty, yes, but never worth bending down to pluck. Unless, of course, one day he stumbled upon that one, the kind of devastating beauty that could make kings crumble and empires fall. But he hadn’t met her. And so, without hesitation, Li Yuan pushed the entire stack of portrait scrolls across the table toward Xie Wei and said casually, “My health is…unwell. Even if I were to choose, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy their company. Let’s set this matter aside.” “...” Xie Wei’s beautiful eyes widened slightly, her gaze freezing on him. She’d secretly peeked through a few of the portraits herself. She had fully prepared herself for him to pick at least a handful of them. Because logically, politically, emotionally…even in terms of simple desire, it made sense for the Emperor to choose. It wasn’t just expected; it was necessary for balancing power among the governors. And yet Li Yuan hadn’t chosen a single one. A strange ripple moved through her heart, and she couldn’t stop herself from asking the one question she hadn’t meant to voice,“Why?” Li Yuan stepped forward, gently taking her hand into his. His voice softened, warm and unhurried as he said, “I already have an Empress. That is enough.” Xie Wei’s delicate frame trembled faintly. Her lips parted, and after a pause, she whispered, “…But it’s a pity… I am nothing but a shameless woman.” Li Yuan smiled faintly. “If you’re shameless, then you’re shameless only with me. That doesn’t make you wanton, it makes you mine. As long as only I know…then the Empress is still the Empress.” Before she could respond, he continued calmly, his tone turning practical once more, “Tomorrow, I’ll inspect the area around Apparel Atelier. Then, by accident, I’ll let myself be tainted by Yin energy. After that, I’ll announce that I’ve fallen gravely ill and need to remain bedridden. When the time comes…everything will be handed over to you. What do you think?” To Xie Wei, those words were worth more than ten thousand sweet declarations. Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn’t find any reply. Finally, she lowered her gaze and whispered, “You should take advantage of this chaos to balance power. No matter how strong the Xie Clan becomes, we could never fight off the other eight governors at once.” Li Yuan shook his head slightly. “That night, I already told you. All of this…is still the original plan. Nothing more.” Xie Wei bit her lip, her tone shifting to mock scolding. “Can’t you just lie to me? What kind of emperor doesn’t lie? What kind of hidden master doesn’t? I was even prepared for you to deceive me!” Li Yuan’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I won’t lie to you.” Something warm stirred deep within her chest. For the first time since she’d known him, the feelings rising inside weren’t rooted in desire or calculation. It was…something gentler. She lowered her head, fingers tightening around his hand, and murmured softly, “Your Majesty is such a fool… Everything that comes next, the Xie Clan will handle.” Li Yuan’s expression softened. “Then once I’m settled on the imperial sickbed, you’ll issue the decree. Have the crown prince supervise the court…and then take little Hu’er with you onto the Dragon Throne.” “Mhm.” Xie Wei nodded faintly, her voice soft as drifting silk. After a pause, she raised her eyes to him and asked quietly, “And what does Your Majesty want…in return?” Li Yuan raised his hand, gently cupping her chin, tilting her face upward until their gazes locked. Then, in a tone thick with affection—and a shameless touch of mischief—he said, “You. I want you.” Xie Wei’s cheeks burned crimson in an instant. She gave his chest a light, flustered smack and whispered, “How shameless…” Li Yuan threw his head back and laughed, his voice rich with ease, then said, “What I want…is simple. I just don’t want to be blind. And besides, I believe you and I, Empress, are in the same boat. When the critical moment comes, I wouldn’t want you to walk through it with your eyes covered.” Xie Wei’s gaze softened, her voice turning delicate and warm. “I believe you. I don’t believe anyone else.” Li Yuan arrived at the outskirts of the Apparel Atelier. Though still several dozen miles away from the ghost domain itself, the land was already marked with ominous blood-red Forbidden Entry placards. No one dared cross them. He rode at a steady pace, his expression solemn, his tone heavy with nostalgia. “This,” he said, voice carrying over the chilly wind, “this is where the great battle took place that day…” Then, abruptly, he threw back his head, raised his hand to the sky, and shouted with a raw, aching grief, “Lu Xuanxian! My grand general, do you see this? The day we dreamed of…it has finally come!” As he cried out, his tiger-like eyes brimmed with tears. Even his beard trembled faintly, his entire bearing one of a man consumed by deep sorrow. The attendants behind him exchanged knowing looks, their hearts moved. Everyone knew who he was mourning, the grand general Lu Xuanxian. Back then, when Li Yuan was still hiding his true strength, bearing his burdens in silence, Lu Xuanxian had been his closest ally. Together, they’d struck at the ghosts, hoping to derail their plans. But they’d failed. And now, years later, the Emperor stood here again, letting his emotions spill freely. For those who knew the story, his grief was understandable. After all, through those long, lonely years, Lu Xuanxian had been the only one truly at his side. Some among the retinue were quietly awed. Such a loyal, deep-feeling emperor… Others, sharper of mind, had different thoughts. This is deliberate. He’s showing the court he values loyalty above all else. For a ruler who displayed such heartfelt remembrance of his fallen general, what soldier wouldn’t want to pledge themselves to him? Li Yuan rode on, his expression calm even as he murmured laments beneath his breath. But deep within the Apparel Atelier, something stirred. A atelier ghost, clad in a decaying funeral robe, had been watching the Emperor coldly from afar, its eyes as pale as death itself. Unfortunately for it, Li Yuan wasn’t actually within its ghost domain. No matter what powers it possessed, no matter how many dark tricks it commanded, the ghost could not reach him. And then, everything happened in an instant. Before the gathered guards even realized what was happening, Li Yuan’s imperial steed let out a piercing cry and bolted forward, charging madly toward the forbidden zone. Panic erupted, but it was too sudden. Too fast. The stallion thundered across the snow, and within heartbeats, it had crossed the blood-red boundary markers. In the depths of the Apparel Atelier, the atelier ghost’s lifeless gaze flared to life, a glimmer of…hunger, almost human. Its pale, rotting face tilted upward as it fixed on Li Yuan’s rapidly approaching figure. Three meters, two meters, one meter, half a meter. A breath away, and then— CRACK! Li Yuan leapt from the saddle at the precise instant, landing flawlessly just outside the danger zone. At the same moment, the faint sound of something shattering came from within his robes, a jade talisman breaking clean in two. A heartbeat later, a strangled cry tore from his throat as his body crumpled. By the time his guards reached him, his face had turned the pale yellow-white of old parchment. They dragged him out in haste, panicked and shouting, rushing him back toward the palace. Within hours, the imperial court was in chaos. Royal physicians swarmed like startled bees, each one summoned to save the Emperor’s life. And far behind them, deep within the Apparel Atelier, the atelier ghost stood frozen. Its hollow gaze blinked once, slowly. Then twice. A faint, soundless question hung in its expression. It was confusion and disbelief. It wasn’t me. It hadn’t even lifted a finger. So what, exactly…had just happened? The living feared ghosts for their terror and cruelty. But ghosts, too…still had no understanding of just how dangerous the human heart could be.