Old Wang could not answer her, only watching her expression as though weighing something in his mind.
Yu Sangsang understood at once. Cultivation—there was no way her father would ever allow her to cultivate. Though she carried the bloodline of a cultivator, if she never trained, never truly set foot upon the immortal path, then she would age and die within a mere hundred years, just like any mortal. That wretched father hated her so much he wished her to wither away on her own. No doubt he never imagined that the daughter he despised would awaken as Yu Sangsang—who came with her own account.
Thinking of how her body was now nourished by spiritual energy, appearing frail and pitiful yet inwardly transformed, she no longer felt the need to argue. She waved her hand to Old Wang and said, “Forget it. I understand.”
At seventeen, entering the Dao was already considered late. After all, drawing spiritual energy into the body to nourish the meridians and flesh was best begun as early as possible.
But Yu Sangsang did not complain. Rather than lamenting her poor circumstances, she chose to seize whatever she could from the foundation she had been given. With such a gifted constitution now, perhaps she could even carve out her own sea of consciousness through exploration… Yet her eyes shifted.
The King of Dayu ignored her entirely, intent on imprisoning her in the imperial tomb until death. If she wished to break through, perhaps… she should not remain in Dayu. The world was vast; if she could escape this cage, one day the skies would open wide before her.
Yu Sangsang had no desire to linger in Dayu. Since she had come to this cultivation realm, and since the body’s former owner held no deep attachment to Dayu, she longed to step out and witness the boundless, beautiful world.
Through Yu Xian’er’s eyes, the two of them together would behold everything beyond. She would let this body taste the wonders of the cultivation world and the joy of freedom. With such thoughts in her heart, nothing else seemed to matter quite so much.
Yu Sangsang saw that Old Wang was silent, lost in thought, and so she no longer mentioned the belongings her mother had left behind.
That old man also had fallen from favor, stripped of power, and had no means to retrieve such things. Yet…
Yu Sangsang absently turned the silver bracelet on her wrist, carved with a phoenix—delicate, though not worth much—and sank into thought. Her mother had come from such a distinguished lineage; surely she had left many treasures behind. Those things, Yu Sangsang resolved, she must find a way to reclaim from the King of Dayu. No one else deserved to profit from them—least of all that worthless man.
“You are already seventeen years old, and you…” Old Wang studied her face carefully, then asked slowly, “Do you remember anything?”
The question was odd, as if her age mattered greatly to him.
Yu Sangsang thought it over but found no reason, so she simply looked at him inquiringly.
Seeing her confusion, the old man forced a smile. “This old servant thought perhaps you missed the King. Ah…” He sighed heavily. “All these years, why has the King never come to see you?”
Of course he was resentful. If the King were to visit, perhaps Old Wang could curry favor, rekindle old ties, maybe even win a chance to return to the palace. But now he was left to serve a fallen princess, abandoned by her own father.
The unlucky princess and the unlucky old servant exchanged a long look. At last, the servant bent his back and went to fetch refreshments.
Yu Sangsang watched with satisfaction as the old man, who always touched upon sore subjects, shuffled away. He knew she was unwanted, yet he brought it up daily—wasn’t that just stabbing her heart? She did not know how Yu Xian’er might have felt hearing such words in the past.
As for herself, Yu Sangsang only grew more hateful toward that wretched father. One day, when she attained the Dao, she would kill him. For now, that was a distant thought—only a fantasy. Afterward, she breathed easier. It seemed that once her words and actions had been tested and found not too different from before, the princess was judged not to have been possessed. Old Wang lost interest in her. In the days that followed, only a thin-faced, silent old matron remained to watch over Yu Sangsang. She had never been accustomed to being served. Drawing water, washing clothes, tidying her room—she could do all of it herself. Coincidentally, Yu Xian’er had always done the same.
So Yu Sangsang’s independence raised no eyebrows in the tomb. She spent those days absorbing the memories left in this body. The happiest times in Yu Xian’er’s recollections were those when her grandfather and mother were still alive. Back then, she had been the treasure of her elders’ hearts. They cherished her deeply and gave her many precious gifts. But all those treasures—whether clothes, jewelry, or toys—had been taken away when she was cast into the imperial tomb.
If not for the silver bracelet her grandfather had once given her—looking cheap enough to escape notice, and hidden away so carefully—it too would likely have been snatched away by that wretched father.
Digesting the memories up to this point, Yu Sangsang jolted awake from her sleep, clutching her wrist again and again until she could finally breathe out in relief. This was the only keepsake left to her by her elders.
She lowered her head, fingers brushing the bracelet she had worn for fourteen years. She sat dazed for a while, feeling as though a spark of inspiration flickered through her mind—yet she could not grasp it. “I need to get some money.” It was still deep in the night, the tomb growing ever colder and more silent.
The princess lay back down, her eyes fixed quietly on the canopy above her bed. She would leave Dayu and seek her own fortune. Though she knew little of the cultivation world, judging from the travel notes Old Wang had given her, this realm must be much like others—surely filled with countless sects. If she could join even one, even as an outer disciple, she would gain access to true cultivation methods—learning how to channel the spiritual energy that constantly seeped into her body, shaping it into meridians and a dantian.
She needed an opportunity. But for a mortal girl to seek out cultivators, she would need at least enough money for the journey. And money was the great problem. A princess she might be, yet she did not have a single coin to her name. Today was another day to shed tears over her poverty. But being penniless was nothing new. Since things were as they were, she might as well sleep first.
Yu Sangsang fell asleep instantly, deciding to worry about travel expenses tomorrow. Whether in her past modern life or in this present one, her sleep had always been sound and sweet. Yet for the first time, her dreamless slumber felt uneasy. At her ears, sharp and piercing noises kept intruding, though she could not tell why. It was strange indeed.
The imperial tomb was always solemn and silent; loud voices were forbidden, and such shrill sounds would be punished even more severely.
Yu Sangsang was jolted awake by the noise. Inwardly she cursed, “How rude,” rubbing her eyes as she sat up, intending to see who dared make such a racket within the imperial tomb of Dayu.
“Huh?” As she rose and looked around, she froze. Before her stretched a vast, desolate wilderness beneath the open sky.
The night was pitch-black, and overhead hung a blood-red moon. Its crimson light poured down, casting an ominous glow over everything in sight. All around lay silence. Countless tattered spirit-banners drifted beneath the blood moon, their ragged threads trailing far into the distance. Mountains and wastelands loomed in shades of black and scarlet. Through the twisted silhouettes of the trees, vague shadows of countless eyes seemed to watch her, unblinking.
She was sitting inside a blood-colored coffin, rubbing her eyes. It was the perfect scene from a horror film. “Wait—where have I ended up now?”
To wake and find herself somewhere entirely different again left Y Sangsang stunned. Crossing once was already unnatural. Surely one could not—should not—cross twice? This barren wilderness… it was worse than the tomb. At least, the tomb still belonged to the human world. Panicked, she reached up to touch her face. Fortunately, within the coffin lay a silver mirror engraved with a phoenix. After a moment’s hesitation, she lifted it to look at herself.
She did not know how long the mirror had been here, yet it bore no dust, gleaming bright as ever. But when she gazed into it, her reflection was blurred, her face indistinct.
Staring into the silver mirror, Yu Sangsang felt a strange heaviness settle in her heart. And then, at that very moment, the sharp, piercing sound that had disturbed her dreams grew closer—more urgent, more violent.
Yu Sangsang turned her head in a daze—only to realize she was sitting inside an opened coffin. Beside her lay another, blood-red, as though dripping with endless fresh blood, placed side by side. Unlike hers, that coffin was sealed tight. The shrill noises came from within, piercing through the lid in a strange, relentless rhythm. Listening closely, Yu Sangsang suddenly understood why the sound had unsettled her even in her dreams. It was the sound of fingernails clawing against the coffin. As though… something inside was struggling madly, desperate to break free.
She stared, bewildered, at the violently trembling coffin. Bathed in the blood moon’s glow, surrounded by eerie silence, the scene should have been terrifying—enough to fill any girl with dread. And yet, when her gaze fell upon the coffin, a surge of emotion rose within her—alien, unfamiliar, yet somehow belonging to her. Not fear, but… hatred.
Hatred burned like fire in her chest, mingled with revulsion and rejection, until her mind was clouded, nearly stripped of reason. In this strange, dangerous place, she forgot caution, forgot that she was only a mortal girl, and reached out her hand. Though the coffin was sealed, she pressed her palm firmly against it, as if to hold it down, to keep it from rising. A laugh escaped her lips, unbidden.
“You will never come out.” Her voice was soft, frail, yet hoarse.
Inside, the coffin seemed startled by her words. The frantic scratching ceased at once, and silence fell.
Yu Sangsang herself was shaken. She had never imagined she could be so bold—daring to touch such a dreadful coffin, daring to speak such words. She did not even understand why she had said them. What truly frightened her was that the moment her hand touched the blood-red coffin, the silver mirror she held gave a clear, melodious chime.
A phantom phoenix soared skyward, hovering beneath the blood moon. Its gentle, illusory eyes gazed at her for a long while, carrying the warmth of recognition—as though beholding an old friend.
Meeting Yu Sangsang’s stunned, bewildered gaze, the phoenix cried once more, then swooped down into her arms and vanished. At her ear, a mechanical female voice rang out:
“You have discovered the Land of Fallen Gods.”
“You have comprehended the *Supreme Purity Record*.”
In the silent imperial tomb, within her chamber, Yu Sangsang’s eyes flew open—she had awakened from her dream.