A wisp of light smoke curled upward. The pill was coated in wax in advance, requiring some time to melt.
Seizing the time difference, Ling Xiao let out a light laugh. The pearls on her delicate hair bun clinked together, producing a crisp, pleasant sound that, though seemingly faint, reached the ears of everyone present.
The System moved the loudspeaker a little closer.
The Emperor cast a puzzled glance at her, as if asking something.
Though the Ghost-God was smiling, her eyes were filled with malice as she scanned everyone in the room one by one. Anyone who met her gaze felt their scalp tingle, finding it utterly terrifying.
For a moment, the scene fell into dead silence. The previously excited crowd felt as if a basin of ice-cold water had been poured over their heads.
Her words were like the venomous hiss of a snake, piercing straight to the heart: “I’m meeting with my master. What are all these things here for?”
The Emperor’s heart sank. This was bad. He had gotten carried away with himself. The Ghost-God had seemed harmless these past few days, making him forget one crucial fact.
Ghosts are inherently filled with malevolence. It is often said that infant ghosts are the most troublesome, for they pass away too soon, having barely glimpsed the world before departing.
Blinded by the sight of an underworld deity, he had eagerly brought people along to disturb his aunt’s meeting with her master.
Li Yue maintained a calm expression and said, “Aunt, rest assured. These people are here because they deeply admire Taizu and begged me earnestly to come and pay their respects. They will leave after the ceremony and will not disturb you.”
“Oh?” Ling Xiao drew out the syllable, her delicate face rosy and tender. From her adorable lips came a biting remark: “I’ve said it before—my deadbeat father was kicked down by me to be reincarnated. Must we tear off this veil of shame?”
Li Yue forced a bitter smile. “Aunt, please spare me some face. I’ll have them leave right away.”
How pitiful he seemed.
The Ghost-God’s lips curled into a strange, eerie smile, as if her skin moved while her flesh remained stiff. “Then wouldn’t I be too disrespectful to you? How about this—let a few of them stay.”
From great joy to great sorrow, they had thought they would be driven away, but the situation took an unexpected turn. The crowd didn’t know what to feel.
Soon, they rallied their spirits, eager to see how the Ghost-God would choose and wondering if they themselves could stay.
The underworld governs matters after death. This chance to appear in person was an opportunity—at least they would have some support after they died!
The next moment, a sharp pain shot through their fingers as strands of hair swiftly retracted, and a few drops of blood welled up.
“Ah!” The ministers and imperial relatives exclaimed in shock at the sudden attack, causing a slight commotion.
The Emperor looked toward Ling Xiao just in time to see a strand of black hair retract, a drop of fresh blood clearly falling from its tip.
There were countless strands of hair, and the dripping blood soaked the collar of the young girl’s white butterfly-patterned silk garment.
“Aunt…” the Emperor called softly.
“Since the Three Realms were separated, fewer and fewer people possess the aptitude,” Ling Xiao sighed, explaining to Li Yue: “The Mortal Immortal Path is about to fade. For humans to embark on the path to immortality, aptitude is paramount. I measured it with blood, and among your people, only a dozen or so can be considered to have an Immortal Root, and even those are mostly crude and inferior.”
The young girl’s brows furrowed like caterpillars as she said disdainfully, “Forget it. It’s still better than useless trash, at least not enough to taint Master’s eyes.”
She dropped a bombshell!
Walking into the midst of the crowd, she faced their fiery, eager gazes. With a casual point of her finger, she indicated who could stay.
Gradually, even the sound of breathing ceased in the room. Everyone watched the Ghost-God expectantly, silently praying they would be chosen.
If outsiders saw this scene, they might be frightened away—in broad daylight, people stood motionless, allowing a young girl to pick and choose among them.
Those who were chosen, even if previously unsuccessful, felt as if they had ascended to paradise, overflowing with joy. Those not selected, even nobles of the highest rank, were as grief-stricken as if mourning their parents, hanging their heads in dejection.
Wang Fu stood in a relatively secluded spot. Though she was the legitimate daughter of a marquis’ household, her husband’s family was undistinguished.
She could be here only because her parents, who doted on their daughter, had secured a spot for her. However, one shouldn’t expect a prime position.
This time, various powerful nobles and ministers fought fiercely over the spots. Just within the marquis’ household, several incidents had erupted over a single quota, highlighting its preciousness.
If only she could… She quickly dismissed the fantasy in her mind. A woman married five times could hardly be considered fortunate.
How could it possibly be her? Thinking this, Wang Fu grew dazed.
Even so, as the Ghost-God’s light footsteps drew nearer, Wang Fu nervously clenched her hands, her knuckles turning white.
“Hmm?” Ling Xiao circled the beauty, took her hand, and gently stroked it.
Turning back, she asked her “nephew” in puzzlement, “There’s actually a Triple Spirit Root here? Barely passable.”
The term “Triple Spirit Root” struck the Emperor’s heart, firmly imprinting itself as significant.
A Spirit Root must be the qualification for immortal cultivation that the Ghost-God mentioned, though there were surely distinctions between good and poor ones.
Since a Triple Spirit Root was considered somewhat better, the remaining ones were likely “crude and unworthy.” It was just unclear how they were classified or which type of Spirit Root was the highest grade.
“Such delicate, fair hands!” Ling Xiao sighed inwardly to the System.
Afterward, a few more people were selected, and the remaining crowd was driven out.
The Princess of Chu gazed tearfully at her elder brother, hoping he would plead on her behalf.
Brother, you’re my only blood-related brother!
Li Yue slowly shook his head. Little sister, it’s not that I won’t help you—I truly have no power to do so.
The Princess of Chu rolled her eyes, stomped away angrily, the golden hairpins and dangling ornaments on her head chiming with indignation.
Going through the motions, they hastily performed the rites for Ling Xiao’s nominal father.
The most crucial moment had arrived!
First, the incense burner suddenly emitted thick, fragrant smoke, carrying a scent both sweet and dreamlike, wafting into everyone’s nostrils.
“So fragrant—” exclaimed the cockroach-fearing man who believed himself lucky to be chosen, stars sparkling in his eyes.
Quite girlish at heart.
Li Yue glanced at him dismissively, focusing his attention on Ling Xiao.
The Ghost-God’s expression turned solemn, her robes billowing as if with a Life of their own. She raised both hands high, eyes tightly closed like a young crane already revealing extraordinary grace.
Soon, a spark of starlight appeared in The Void, and the surroundings darkened.
More and more sparks emerged, almost instantly filling the entire sky. The Emperor quietly extended a hand, and a spark gently landed on his fingertip, illuminating his brows and eyes.
The scattered points of light quickly converged into a river of radiance.
“A thread of spiritual light pries open the Ghost Gate,” Ling Xiao murmured. The river of light, like the Milky Way, passed through her body and poured into the ground.
A faintly visible bronze gate appeared, adorned with auspicious patterns, rare plants, and scenes of countless ghosts suffering.
The Emperor was overcome with excitement, his heart pounding like a drum. He stared fixedly at the gate, as did everyone else.
Though the Emperor held the supreme position in the mortal realm, how could he compare to immortals and gods? Throughout history, too many emperors had sought immortality.
He would be the one to succeed.
Ling Xiao maintained her awkward pose, feeling her hands going numb. If anyone had entered the scene, they would have discovered people lying unconscious all over the ground.
Her dear “nephew” had collapsed in a relatively decent state—at least he hadn’t fallen face-first to eat a mouthful of dirt.
In the dreams of the crowd, the gate remained stubbornly shut. The Ghost-God, as if throwing a tantrum, flung her hands and pouted deeply, then personally went up to bang… knock on the door.
“Ox-Head and Horse-Face, open the door for your great aunt right now! Don’t you dare play dead!”
Li Yue had no time to think about Ox-Head and Horse-Face; a strange sense of pride swelled within him.
I call the Ghost-God “aunt,” and she refers to herself as “great aunt” to Ox-Head and Horse-Face. Rounding it off, I actually came out ahead.