Wei Ji drifted in the darkness, weightless and at peace. His body felt as if it had melted away, leaving only a thread of awareness suspended into something one can call void.
He didn't know how long he had been here.
It could have been a breath, it could have been a century. None of it mattered.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he was comfortable. Warm, safe and sound. He didn't want to ask why. He didn't want to think of what had brought him here. He only wanted to close his eyes and stay in this moment for a little while.
…
In the Vermilion Savannah Chamber, Lu Shaohua sat with her legs folded, her posture straight yet strangely fragile, like a porcelain figure that could shatter at a touch.
Resting across her lap was Wei Ji, fast asleep, his breathing steady. She stared down at him in silence. His hair was messy, his face relaxed.
There was the faint, acrid scent of alcohol mixed with the bitter tang of poison clinging to him.
Her lips parted. A whisper slipped out.
"Poison… from my subordinate?"
Her voice was thin, sounding uncertain. She looked at Wei Ji again.
"If my subordinate poisoned him, how did he survive? Why come here?"
His head rested against her thighs as if that place was his pillow, his brow smooth, as if the world itself could not trouble him
Lu Shaohua felt envious, but she didn't want to admit it. While he slept soundly, she was deeply troubled.
She just found out that her mother was the one secretly helping her ease the pain of resurrection from that darkness. She also wondered why this young master Han, her husband, had been there and helped her yesterday.
Plus, the words her mother said to her.
You have a good husband.
A good husband? Her gaze grew complicated. She pressed her hand to her chest, not knowing whether the ache she felt was anger, confusion, or something else.
Why would her mother—her true mother, Lu Shangguan—say that this man was good?
Just yesterday, on their wedding night, he had looked at her with disgust. She remembered the sharpness in his eyes, the way he had stormed off without a word. It's like the others look at him. And now here he was, lying against her, as if none of that had ever happened.
Her mind spun. He saved her. That's true. In her nightmare, when she had nearly lost her soul, it had been this man who stood before the darkness. But why?
Lu Shaohua studied his face again, her own expression as still as stone. He was weak; that much she was sure of. She tried to check his body, inspecting him thoroughly while he was asleep. There was no trace of cultivation in him—not a shred of immortal qi.
A mortal man through and through. And yet, he had reached into her nightmare and pulled her back. How?
Her thoughts tangled in confusion.
Suddenly, there was a change in her room.
The light dimmed until only shadows clung to the walls. Out of that darkness, figures appeared—five of them in total. Three women and two men, faceless in their features, their bodies cloaked in the aura of assassins.
They dropped to one knee and spoke as one.
"Your Majesty. Princess."
The word somehow made her heart tighten. Princess. The title that had brought her nothing but torment.
One of the faceless women raised her head slightly. She froze when she saw Wei Ji lying in Lu Shaohua's lap.
"Your Majesty… that man…" Her tone trembled. "He… he is alive? Sleeping? Impossible…"
Lu Shaohua's gaze sharpened. Her words came cold, sharp as frost. "Was it you who poisoned him?"
The woman hesitated, then slowly nodded.
"Yes. I used the scale of the Emperor Cobra. Even the strongest of the mortal lords cannot resist it. One breath, and their blood curdles. One heartbeat, and they die. He should not be alive."
Her hands shook. "How did he survive?"
The chamber became quiet. All eyes turned to Wei Ji, but he remained as he was—breathing softly, eyes closed, as though the world's mysteries had nothing to do with him.
Lu Shaohua's fingers brushed his hair without thinking. "He is alive," she said flatly.
Another assassin, a man with a sword at his hip, stepped forward. His blade whispered free of its sheath, gleaming under the dim light. He raised it, holding the edge above Wei Ji's throat.
"Shall I finish him, Your Majesty?"
Lu Shaohua stared at the sword for a long moment. Slowly, she reached out. Her pale hand pressed against the flat of the blade, and with a soft push, she guided it away.
"No."
The assassins stiffened.
"No?" the man repeated.
Lu Shaohua's eyes grew distant, her voice low. "I don't know how he lived. I don't know how he saved me. But he did. He stepped into my nightmare when I was about to lose my soul. He… stopped it."
The assassins looked at one another, disbelief on their hidden faces.
"He saved you?" one whispered.
Another spoke, her tone sharp. "But how? This man has no cultivation. He is nothing but a mortal. How could he step into your dream and protect your soul?"
"I don't know," Lu Shaohua admitted. She shook her head. "But I saw it. He stood between me and the shadow."
The air thickened with unease.
The assassin with the sword lowered it, though his grip remained tight. "Then… What do we do with him? If you command, we can wait until he leaves and strike again. He won't survive a second time."
"No." Her tone was final. "Put that mission on hold. He is a mystery. Until I understand him… let him live."
The assassins bowed their heads.
After a pause, Lu Shaohua asked, "What news?"
Two of the women stepped forward. One spoke quickly, her voice edged with worry.
"Your Majesty, there are sightings of the shadow kin again. More than before. Some villagers were swallowed in the night. Roads abandoned. Mortals whisper that the dead walk."
"Shadow kin…" Lu Shaohua murmured. Her brows drew tight.
The woman continued. "They appear more often now. Entire flocks of them. Shapes that crawl out from the ground, faceless and formless. If one kills them, they leave nothing but silence in their wake. No treasure, no beast core, nothing to harvest. Only corpses… when there are any left at all. Many dissolve into nothing the moment they are slain."
Lu Shaohua asked. "The sects? Did they act on it?"
The second woman added, "The sects have done nothing. To them, these creatures are too weak. A single wave of immortal qi can scatter dozens. To mortals, they are dangerous… but to cultivators, they are dust. Worthless. They cannot even serve as training for their disciples. Worse, their bodies dissolve into nothingness, their deaths leave behind no cores, and no spoils. They are… empty."
Lu Shaohua's frown deepened. "Then what are they? Shadows of what?"
"The Immortals say these creatures are born from mortals' negative energy, ," the woman said. "Negative emotions give shape. Resentment, grief, rage. When mortals are consumed by hopelessness, their souls fracture, and from that fracture, these creatures crawl. They linger in forgotten roads, near battlefields, in places where screams outnumber laughter."
The air grew cold as she spoke, as if the shadows themselves had drawn closer.
Lu Shaohua looked down at Wei Ji again. His face was calm. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if he dreamed of something pleasant. She truly envied him sleeping soundly like that.
She turned back to her subordinates. "And the Shen Flame Kingdom? The Seven Holy Lotus?"
The assassins lowered their heads. One of the men answered, his voice laced with shame.
"We searched, Your Majesty. The Seven Holy Lotus cannot be found. We combed the rivers, the mountains, the sacred valleys. We tried the forbidden temples, the sealed vaults. Nothing. The only place left untested is the throne itself. The texts say that one who sits upon it may call forth the Lotus."
Lu Shaohua's jaw tightened. "But I am here. Sent away. Married off to the Han Family."
"Then…" the assassin said softly, "we can only wait."
"Wait?" Her voice cut sharply. "No. Waiting is death." She drew in a breath, her eyes flashing. "Prepare what you can. Secure routes. Gather herbs that may imitate the Lotus in its effects. Build a network in this city. If the throne is denied to me, then we will carve another path."
Her words were serious. The assassins lowered their heads in obedience. For a long while, the chamber was silent except for the soft sound of Wei Ji's breathing. Lu Shaohua looked down at him again. His head rested against her lap, warm, heavy, and strangely grounding. Her hand hovered above his hair but did not touch.
A whisper left her lips, almost too soft to hear. "For now… I'll play the role of his wife."
Suddenly, a shadow with four limbs crept behind her. "So don't worry about me. I am well protected. Just follow our plan."