Chapter 5

The twenty-fourth of the third month, Mo Fishing Village, deep in the night.

The blood-red moon, the bamboo leaves rustling on the near sea—all heavy as ink.

A wind swept past, and the door of the Xu family’s thatched hut slammed shut with a bang.

Luo Jiao still stood at the bedside. From the moment her threat fell until now, she had neither spoken nor moved—she simply stood in place—

Yet everyone in the hut abruptly began screaming like mad!

Because they saw it: in the candlelight, Luo Jiao’s shadow climbed and climbed, like a stunted sapling shooting suddenly upward, fanning out layer upon layer of branches and leaves.

And in the next breath, those branches twisted, becoming arms that swayed with the dancing candleflame!

The instant after.

Those ‘arms’ came hurtling headlong at the people at the door—

As if they’d truly seen a vengeful ghost, they shrieked, dropped their candlesticks and cudgels, and scrambled over one another for the doorway.

A candlestick toppled; a tiny flame caught the bedding, and with a single lick, acrid smoke filled the whole house.

“AAAAH—there really is a ghost, there really is a ghost—!!”

“Mother… what—what’s happening?”

“Evil Ghost! The Evil Ghost is going to eat us!”

Inside, everyone but Luo Jiao—the three Xus and the two Minor Officials—covered their noses and wailed. “Help! Help! Someone outside… cough cough… open the door…”

Luo Jiao stood amid the firelight, her eyes holding no light at all.

Five people who had swaggered in only moments ago were now all puppets of terror, utterly wretched.

A single locked door barred their way. And in the sea of fire, the shadow kept stretching on.

The moment it touched their skin, the shadow seemed to gain substance, sharp as a blade, slicing through their bodies.

The five crammed against the door, weeping and hammering at it.

Xu Siwei seemed frozen with fright, eyes brimming with tears, at a complete loss.

He turned dully back—and his gaze collided with Luo Jiao’s.

His whole face crumpled in mortal terror. Xu Siwei, who had only been whimpering, burst from his chest into a piercing scream.

As if—just as if he had truly seen a maddened Evil Ghost!—

Outside the thatched hut.

The night was deep, a cold wind whispering, the moonlight keening.

Besides the two Minor Officials Mother Xu had led inside earlier, three petty officers stood outside the Xu hut, standing watch, glancing this way and that.

Then they abruptly noticed the hut’s door had been locked from the inside.

“Why’d they shut the door?” one asked.

“Who cares. Probably some family matter—they’re still talking it out,” another answered. “Just secure the prisoner. One frail little girl—hardly any effort required.”

“Oh.” The first nodded, then suddenly sniffed hard, eyes widening. “Hey—why’s there a smell of smoke? You smell that?”

His companion said, “What’s odd about smoke? This village has all these households—people have to cook.”

The Minor Official shook his head. “It’s awfully late for it…”

“Never had a midnight snack?” his companion cut in.

“Oh… right.” The Minor Official finally nodded.

Still uneasy, he shifted sideways and stole a glance inside.

Through the window, he could only see candlelight flickering within.

The hut was silent.

“Singular.” After a long pause, the Minor Official spoke again. “Old Zhang’s usually loud enough to wake the dead, and now we can’t hear a single word. Nothing’s happened, has it?”

His companion shot him an impatient look. “Imagining things again? Why do you care? Guard your post!”

The Minor Official swallowed his curiosity, muttered an “Mm,” and withdrew his gaze.

Outside, the night wind grew colder, a lone moon hung high, starless and cloudless.

Mo Fishing Village lay quiet as ever.

Under the control of Luo Jiao’s Phantom Heart Art, however the people inside the hut wailed and screamed, those outside heard nothing whatsoever.

As for the vengeful ghost the five inside had seen—it was nothing but an ‘Illusion Realm’ conjured by the Phantom Heart Art.

Luo Jiao stood in the room, expressionless, watching their misery—heads battering the floor—like a cold spectator to a farce.

She had not fully mastered this body yet; driving it left her struggling. The body was not fully recovered, and while conscious she remained tethered to Xu Liangdi’s thoughts and moods.

But just now, Xu Liangdi’s presence had grown feeble beyond measure; from some point on she had cried out once, then fallen utterly silent. Luo Jiao guessed she had wept herself unconscious.

Xu Liangdi had fled from the Sea of Consciousness—but left Luo Jiao an inheritance of despair and fury.

And that was precisely what the Luo Jiao of this moment needed most. To wield the Phantom Heart Art required, first, immense mental force, and second, precisely this: the violent, tangled emotions common to all humanity.

Xu Liangdi was despairing and furious; Luo Jiao was calm and composed. This union made the perfect ground for the Phantom Heart Art—

Everyone harbors fears, and the Phantom Heart Art can magnify them without limit.

Those inside saw demons at every turn and desperately sought escape; those outside remained unmoved.

Watching the five scurry in circles, Luo Jiao felt an unprecedented calm. She simply lowered her gaze to the toppled candlestick.

Red wax dripped at the bedside; the flame was charring the bedding, breathing out smoke.

The fire grew, the flames wavering, blurring Luo Jiao’s sight; the smoke stung her nose, and the people’s wails were fading from her ears.

Only in the instant before consciousness left her, she saw someone kick through the door with a water bucket.

“Fire! Fire! Save them!—”

“The Xu family of Mo Fishing Village, four in number, and two officers—smoke inhalation, all unconscious…”

“Yes, we’ve determined the cause. A candlestick Lady Xu carried in. It toppled and set the bedding alight…”

Luo Jiao woke the next day. She lay on her side on the bedding, groggy, and lifting her eyelids found the daylight blinding.

She heard a voice thundering with fury. “Are you idiots? A house catches fire—someone would scream, wouldn’t they? Someone would run out, wouldn’t they? There would be—there’d be a smell of smoke, wouldn’t there?” Halfway through, the speaker grew so enraged she began to stutter. “Did—not one of you—notice anything at all?!”

“Vice Minister, all three of us will testify!” someone hastily put in. “We truly, truly didn’t hear a single sound.”

“It’s uncanny… Vice Minister, this is truly uncanny… it wasn’t until the very end of the hour of Zi, when we smelled the burning, that we found out… but before that, the house made not one sound!”

“ABSOLUTE NONSENSE!!!” Zhou Zhaoyue roared, teeth gritted, nearly choking in her fury. “You… cough cough…”

Amid the coughing, the Eldest Princess at her side pushed over a cup of tea. “Ah Yue, have some tea.”

Zhou Zhaoyue started, and coughed harder still.

Before the two of them, several Minor Officials, even while being scolded, didn’t forget to flatter, grinning obsequiously. “Master Prince Consort, the Eldest Princess treats you so well!”… “Yes, yes!…”

Eldest Princess… Master Prince Consort?

Luo Jiao, eyes half shut, stole a vague glance—one figure in broad-sleeved red robes, another in blue official’s dress. The red-robed girl was smiling brightly; the blue-robed one coughed ceaselessly, whether from rage or fright none could say.

But it was precisely that one glance—caught dead-on by the red-robed woman!

“Oh, awake.” She clapped the person beside her on the shoulder. “Xu Liangdi’s awake.”

Before Zhou Zhaoyue could speak, a Minor Official chimed in first, “How wonderful, finally awake! Today, today we finally have one piece of good news!”

Zhou Zhaoyue dropped a vicious “Good news my foot,” and stalked over to Luo Jiao, face black.

“Xu Liangdi. Do you know what crime you’ve committed?”

Yet Luo Jiao, meeting that furious glare, showed not an ounce of a suspect’s awareness.

She asked, “Where is this?”

Zhou Zhaoyue, expressionless: “Did you set the fire?”

Luo Jiao blinked. “Who are you?”

“Answer my question first.” Zhou Zhaoyue strangled her temper. “What exactly happened?”

Luo Jiao, eyes lowered, still wearing that bewildered look, did at least stir. Under everyone’s gaze, she braced a hand against her forehead and stood, letting out a stale breath of air.

Zhou Zhaoyue was tall and long-legged; Xu Liangdi was nothing but a thin little girl, a full head shorter, her presence shorter by half again.

But when she lifted her head there was not a trace of fear—instead she flashed Zhou Zhaoyue a grin.

Then deliberately dropped her voice. “You…”

Zhou Zhaoyue frowned involuntarily and leaned down. “What?”

Luo Jiao said flatly, “A female Prince Consort?”

She had no purpose in saying it—no probing, no power play. She was simply bored. This Zhou Zhaoyue was clearly no petty official either, rising so young; her character couldn’t be too terrible.

Yet at the words Zhou Zhaoyue froze, snapping alert as if facing a great enemy.

And upon meeting Luo Jiao’s gaze, forced the startle back down her throat.

Zhou Zhaoyue composed herself in an instant, tugging her lips into a sneer. “Drunkards’ ravings, a death-row prisoner’s mutterings. Those words suit you well.”

But Luo Jiao shot back, “Death row? I’m to die? On what grounds?”

Zhou Zhaoyue arched a brow, stepping aside, reverting to her earlier fury-twisted-into-laughter. “On the grounds of seven lives at the Zou Manor—and one arson in this Mo Fishing Village.”

“What exactly are you?” Zhou Zhaoyue narrowed her eyes. “Thirteen lives entangled in a matter of days. Truly… bloodthirsty beyond measure, cruel to the bone.”

Luo Jiao lifted her head, the very picture of confusion.

“The seven deaths—that was the Zou Family’s epileptic young master succumbing to his fits and becoming a maddened monster. I ran from the manor with half my life spent, and made it home to the village.”

“As for the fire—my careless Mother… knocked over the candlestick.”

Her eyes were perfectly clear, without a shade of drunken haze.

And when she spoke, there was even a thread of disrespectful mockery.

“So tell me—what has any of it to do with me?”