“So, it was this thing that saved him.” Nan Rongchen lay flat on the couch, spinning the dagger in his hand. “Can ghosts even save people in this world?”
Gods, demons, and ghosts all came to follow and pledge allegiance to him. Nan Rongchengyu truly lived up to being the protagonist.
As if unable to bear hearing others talk about it right there on the floor, the ghost immediately chimed in, “Tch. Have some manners. If you don’t want to die, don’t move.”
Nan Rongchen wanted to die, so he raised his hand and clamped his fingers around the ghost’s neck. As expected, when the ghost pressed against his brow, it had already assumed a human form. Its palm felt as cool and smooth as jade, and the texture was not bad at all. “What kind of thing thinks it has the right to talk to me about manners?”
The ghost offered no resistance whatsoever, laughing out of exasperation as it gripped his wrist and slowly pulled him closer.
The distance between the two shrank inch by inch. Nan Rongchen increased the pressure in his hand, hoping that this ghost, in a fit of anger, would strike him down and kill him in one blow. Although he had died a bit too many times recently and none of them had actually stuck, how would he know the outcome if he didn’t try?
Living through days made unbearable by the system’s nagging, how could a self-indulgent tyrant like him possibly endure it? He couldn’t care less who ended up killing him anymore.
Within seconds, a chill brushed against his lips, and his entire body instantly became paralyzed and unable to move.
Being touched by a ghost wasn’t enough to make him uselessly freeze up like this; he had been placed under a binding spell.
It seemed this ghost walked the path of feeding on vital life force. Combined with that appearance, it was undoubtedly a seductive ghost straight out of a tale of the strange.
The process was a bit slow, but its advantage was that it didn’t hurt at all. Satisfied, Nan Rongchen prepared to close his eyes and quietly await the arrival of death.
A sudden clap of thunder echoed outside the window. He belatedly recalled the static-filled disappearance of the system, and the seductive ghost spoke in his ear once more, “I have no hobby of killing people. Let go.”
The spell binding Nan Rongchen’s body was lifted. Assuming the capricious demeanor of a tyrant once again, he raised his hand and wrapped his fingers around the ghost’s neck. “Useless thing.”
“Little ungrateful wolf, do you know who I am? When you were little, you used to bow and offer sacrifices all properly.” Xie Chen rubbed his own neck before restlessly reaching out to stroke the cheek of the person before him. “The texture is probably far worse than it used to be.”
Offering sacrifices? In both lives combined, Nan Rongchen had only ever offered sacrifices to the Witch God in accordance with imperial ancestral rites. At the time, he hadn’t believed in supernatural nonsense and had simply gone through the motions for appearances’ sake.
Seeing that he still refused to speak, Xie Chen hooked a finger, and a concentric knot flew out from beneath the sovereign’s pillow, landing in his palm. “Could it be that you are blaming me for trifling with you and tarnishing your devotion to that Imperial Preceptor?”
He had no interest in worldly matters of romance; he was merely teasing Nan Rongchen because the latter wouldn’t make a sound.
Nan Rongchen didn’t even glance at the concentric knot. “Does the Witch God have a name?”
Xie Chen was pondering the little ungrateful wolf’s thoughts, answering every question put to him. “Xie Chen.”
Nan Rongchen repeated the name, “Xie Chen, how does my destiny look to you? Can I become an emperor of the ages?”
Xie Chen answered without hesitation, “I will naturally help you.”
He must have been the unluckiest god in this world. Upon waking from his tribulation trial, he found nine heavy fate contracts bound to his soul, though he had no idea which idle busybody had done such a thing.
Fortunately, the desires of mortal sovereigns extended no further than uniting the nine provinces. The realm had been divided into three for far too long; it was time to bring them together as one. For him, this matter was effortless, and helping his predestined contract holder achieve his wish was simple enough.
Only, Nan Rongchen was young yet possessed unfathomable thoughts. Not only did he commit suicide in the imperial court, but his divine soul actually refused to awaken, and the wound on his heart showed no signs of healing anytime soon. It was rather troublesome.
Hearing this, Nan Rongchen curved his lips into an innocent smile. This life was truly fascinating; not only did he have a system attempting to rein him in, but even the Witch God had personally descended to the mortal realm to trick him.
In his past life, he had doted upon the Imperial Preceptor, terrified of desecrating the bright moon. His only act of audacity had been letting the Preceptor arrange his hair.
His fingertip hooked a strand of Xie Chen’s white hair falling past his shoulder. “Xie Chen, are all you immortals this good-looking?”
Xie Chen froze slightly at the question, and this imperceptible change was entirely captured in Nan Rongchen’s eyes. “I have fallen for you at first sight. Might you also let me take a look at your heart?”
They always said immortals were heartless. This remark choked Xie Chen so thoroughly he had nothing to say. With a flash of his hand and the drop of a blade, the gold-inlaid jade dagger plunged precisely into Xie Chen’s chest.
Fresh blood stained the moon-white robes. Having vented enough of his anger, Nan Rongchen tossed the short blade aside and lay back down where he was. “If you don’t want to die, get lost.”
Thunder cracked outside the window again, one peal louder than the last.
Xie Chen lowered his gaze to look at the bright, vibrant blood on his chest, facing yet another tribulation amidst the sound of spring thunder.
With a flick of his fingers, he used a spell to burn that obtrusive concentric knot in his palm into ashes, vanishing in an instant.
After all the commotion finally settled into silence, Nan Rongchen began to feel the pain throbbing from the wound on his chest. He silently jotted down a demerit for the Witch God: saving him yet lacking the competence to heal him, truly a useless thing.
[System 365: Please have the Host execute the mission according to the requirements, otherwise the wound will not heal.]
Villains really were not easy to play. Suicide failed to work, and the system kept finding new ways to torment him. Fine, then he would do as they wished.
Following the tyrant plotline? Sure, but how this tyrant behaved would be decided by him alone.
The timing of the system’s departure and reappearance was far too coincidental. Harboring certain suspicions, Nan Rongchen condescended to pick up the dagger and spoke indifferently, “Xie Chen, I am quite satisfied with your heart. If you do not return, I shall assume you have perished and will simply commit suicide to apologize with my death, no, wait, to commit suicide and die for love.”
Such a preposterous statement made even him chuckle softly after he finished speaking.
Yet the creak of the palace doors opening did indeed ring out. Twirling the jewels on the dagger’s scabbard between two fingers, he lowered his gaze and spoke, “Since you didn’t die, why aren’t you coming to change my medicine?”
The Chief Astrologer paused in his footsteps at those words, took the wooden tray laden with healing salves, dismissed the attendants, and walked alone into the main hall where the sovereign was temporarily residing. Setting down the tray, he bowed. “It was this minister’s oversight.”
[Violation comment: Xie Chen didn’t come, right? Wife, just pretend he’s dead.]
[System 365: Host, please do not deviate from the plot.]
Tch. He had guessed wrong. Nan Rongchen discarded the dagger in his hand, the system still chattering endlessly in his mind, and raised his gaze toward the Chief Astrologer with visible displeasure in his eyes.
Still, anyone could change his dressings. Rumor had it that the Chief Astrologer’s miraculous healing arts had once been blessed by the Witch God himself; surely he would be better than those military physicians from his past life.
The sovereign before him wore only a bright yellow sleep robe, his outer robe draped loosely over his shoulders, and his dark hair scattered casually. Compared to the imposing figure seen in the grand hall half a month ago, the majesty was replaced by a seductive allure that had no business belonging to a monarch.
The phoenix eyes that usually could not be scrutinized past the crown pearls were now glaring straight at him, though veiled in a layer of mist that made them difficult to read clearly.
He tentatively broke the silence. “Your Majesty has been recuperating here for half a month, and the court…”
Ever since entering the Bureau of Astronomy, the Chief Astrologer had been revered as a god descended to earth.
Such vulgar words from the common folk were ignorant and crude, so he paid them no mind. He had entered the mortal court and tangled in treacherous schemes solely for the sake of what he sought to accomplish.
Acting as a sycophantic flatterer to a sovereign was naturally not his wish. If not for Nan Rongchen’s remark about not dying, he would never have voluntarily taken on the task of changing dressings for the most cunning monarch in the world.
Nan Rongchen had no inclination to converse further with him. Habitually spreading his hands to signal the attendant to disrobe him, he said, “If you’re going to change the medicine, change it. When did the Chief Astrologer start caring about court affairs?”
The Chief Astrologer’s movements faltered for a fraction of a second, before he leaned down and gripped the sleeve of the sleep robe. The silk felt as smooth as grease beneath his palm, still retaining a faint, lingering warmth.
Every movement of the person beneath his hands reeked of luxury and indolence, yet carried a noble, aloof scent of Borneo camphor that easily scrambled a person’s wits.
As the fabric brushed against skin, the Chief Astrologer’s fingers brushed against the emperor’s wrist, icy cold. It dragged his thoughts back to the day he took the pulse, mingling with the flickering candlelight.
As the outer robe slipped entirely into his hands, recalling how he had pronounced Nan Rongchen devoid of any remaining vitality that day, he instinctively tightened his grip on the garment.
On that day, his master had claimed that the Son of Heaven had cried his eyes red before committing suicide. He had dismissed it as idle nonsense, but this faint trace of red at the corners of the current emperor’s eyes…
Could a destined tyrant soaked in bloodshed really look like this?
[Level 1 violation comment: A true-believer brother has already taken his spot on the observation deck.]
[Ahhhh, I can’t take it anymore! Who’s going to get rid of the Chief Astrologer?]
The scholars of that other world must have lost their minds, violating rules endlessly. Still, the notion of getting rid of the Chief Astrologer sounded much more pleasant than the curses hurled at him earlier.
Someone as self-righteous and pure as the Chief Astrologer was cut from the exact same cloth as Nan Rongchengyu.
Rather than killing him outright, he suddenly found himself wanting to see just how far the spotless Chief Astrologer could push his restraint.
Before Nan Rongchen could hook two fingers into the sash of his inner sleep robe, the Chief Astrologer snapped out of his trance and turned to grab the medicine, only to find the jar already in his master’s hands.
[365: Beep, beep, beep! System error!]