Chapter 86: More Terrifying Than Evil Spirits
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.
“Father Emperor, why are you unhappy?”
“Father Emperor, why are your eyes red?” The Fifth Prince, clutching a delicate clay figurine, continued to question the Emperor with concern etched on his youthful face.
The Sixth Prince gently interjected, “Is it because we didn’t take you to use the restroom earlier?”
The Emperor was momentarily taken aback, his regal composure faltering as he grappled with his sons’ innocent yet pressing inquiries.
Unable to bear the awkwardness any longer, the Crown Prince discreetly tugged at his two younger brothers’ sleeves, signaling them to give their father some space. Taking a deep, steadying breath, the Emperor summoned his strength to suppress the swirling despair and frustration within his heart. With a weary gesture, he waved them off. “Go, go. Just don’t let Us see you.”
I long for sweet childhood memories of innocent camaraderie, not… this! Competing to see who can pee farther—such a humiliating chapter of history!
The Crown Prince pressed his lips tightly together, struggling to contain a burgeoning smile that threatened to betray his amusement.
“Father Emperor, Chao Chao wants to visit Fourth Brother. May I escort her there?” he asked, his voice tinged with earnestness and a hint of protectiveness.
“And tomorrow, as Fourth Brother returns to the National Temple, I would like to see him off,” the Crown Prince added, his eyes reflecting a deep-seated concern for his brother’s well-being.
Although rumors had long suggested that Consort Xian and the Empress harbored mutual disdain, the truth was more nuanced. The Crown Prince held profound respect for Consort Xian, perhaps because he and Xie Cheng Xi were of similar age and bore a striking resemblance. Whenever Consort Xian looked at him, her doting gaze revealed maternal tenderness that went beyond mere politeness. She likely thought of her own son enduring the harsh, ascetic life at the temple, her heart aching with maternal concern.
“Go ahead and try to console her,” the Emperor instructed, his hand pressing to his temple in a gesture of weariness.
How could I not care for the Fourth Prince? he mused inwardly, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.
The Emperor had endured relentless disapproval from both civil and military officials to keep Xie Jun An within the palace walls. He faced immense pressure, and whenever a disaster struck Northern Zhao, accusations inevitably followed, targeting him for his perceived favoritism.
“The Fourth Prince brings misfortune. He must be sacrificed to appease the heavens,” the officials would declare, their voices dripping with disdain and fear.
Each year, the Fourth Prince was only permitted to remain in the palace for a few fleeting days before being sent away, his presence deemed a harbinger of calamity.
“I fear Consort Xian will cry herself into another bout of bloody coughing,” the Emperor confessed. Last time, her overwhelming longing for her son had driven her to vomit blood, necessitating the urgent summoning of the Fourth Prince back to the palace for his protection and to quell further unrest.
“If he doesn’t return soon, we won’t be able to manage him,” the Emperor murmured, anxiety barely concealed in his voice.
“Chao Chao, are you afraid?” the Crown Prince asked, his concern evident as he looked down at the brave little girl.
“Fourth Brother’s fate is extremely ill-starred. On the day of his birth, all the flowers in Consort Xian’s palace withered. From the moment he was born, he was considered an omen of misfortune,” the Crown Prince continued, his voice heavy with the burden of truth.
“After his birth, he began attracting evil spirits. The palace became rife with vengeful ghosts, their presence a constant reminder of his cursed existence.”
“Thankfully, sending him to the National Temple suppressed these occurrences. But he cannot stay long in the palace,” the Crown Prince explained, his eyes meeting the Emperor’s with a mix of determination and sorrow.
Chao Chao blinked her large, innocent eyes and declared with unwavering confidence, “Chao Chao is brave! Not scared! Not scared!” She patted her chest, her small frame radiating courage. Vengeful ghosts? They were fascinating creatures to her, not something to fear.
“Don’t linger too long. Go and return quickly. Don’t frighten Chao Chao,” the Crown Prince advised gently, sensing her enthusiasm might lead to unintended consequences.
Seeing her determination and unyielding spirit, the Emperor did not object, his heart softening at her bravery.
Clinging to the Crown Prince, Lu Chao Chao made her way to the Virtuous Serenity Palace, her small hand gripping his tightly. Upon arriving, she noticed the palace staff were sparse, their usual bustling energy replaced by palpable tension that piqued her curiosity.
The Crown Prince explained, “Fourth Brother’s ominous aura attracts evil spirits. Only those with exceptionally strong destinies can serve here. It’s a place where the brave and the steadfast guard against malevolent forces.”
Indeed, in the past, some attendants had been frightened to death by the restless spirits, their courage no match for the palace’s haunted legacy.
As they neared the palace, gusts of chilling wind swept through the grounds, carrying with them faint sobbing that echoed eerily in the cold air. The Crown Prince tightened his grip on Chao Chao, his protective instincts heightening.
The palace’s history of injustice and frequent vengeful spirits meant that Xie Jun An’s presence made these entities manifest even more boldly, their tormented souls unable to find peace.
Chao Chao’s wide eyes scanned her surroundings, brimming with curiosity and excitement. “Wow! A water ghost in the pond!” she exclaimed, pointing enthusiastically.
“Oh! There’s another one in the well—haha, it’s climbing out!” she giggled, her laughter echoing unnervingly in the quiet night.
“Oh, look! A scorched one, burned to death…” Her cheerful commentary contrasted sharply with the ominous atmosphere, making the Crown Prince’s spine stiffen as he quickened his pace toward the main hall.
Once inside, the Crown Prince exhaled sharply, the tension momentarily easing as they entered the hall. At each corner, bells blessed by the abbot hung solemnly, their soft chimes intended to ward off evil spirits and maintain a semblance of peace.
Within the hall, Consort Xian wept bitterly, her sobs wracking her body and nearly robbing her of breath. Her usually composed demeanor was shattered by the raw emotion of her grief.
“Mother longs to bear your hardships for you. Since birth, you’ve endured an ascetic life in the temple, never a single day of ease,” she lamented, her voice breaking with each word.
“Jun An, oh Jun An, why can’t you just be at peace?” her voice echoed through the hall, filled with anguish and longing.
“Mother, don’t cry. Your son isn’t suffering. Truly, not at all,” the young monk said, kneeling to wipe away her tears with a gentle, reassuring touch.
“An An cannot stay by your side to fulfill filial duties. An An feels deep guilt toward you, Mother,” he continued, his voice tinged with sorrow and a sense of duty.
“My stay must be brief. These past two weeks have been the happiest days of my life. But the vengeful spirits outside are gathering in greater numbers. I will bring harm if I stay longer,” he explained, his voice steady despite the underlying fear.
“The abbot’s bells will only hold for fifteen days,” he added, the gravity of the situation settling in.
The Crown Prince sighed quietly, his gaze drifting to the attendants outside the hall, who already bore red eyes from exhaustion and sleeplessness.
“Mother, An An’s clothes are plenty. Please stop making more, or you’ll ruin your eyes.” Every piece he wore was lovingly sewn by Consort Xian herself. She had entrusted the delicate task to no one else, her hands deftly crafting garments that symbolized her love and concern.
“You’re not by my side. Making a few more garments is no trouble,” she replied, her eyes swollen and red, tears still streaming as she meticulously packed his belongings. Her movements were slow, each stitch a testament to her unwavering dedication.
Six years. Six long years of sending her son away, watching his small figure disappear into the distance each time, her heart aching with each farewell.
“The abbot said that once I’ve grown past eighteen, I’ll live a normal life. Mother…” Xie Jun An’s voice trembled, the fear evident in his eyes. He, too, was afraid of what the future held.
With age, his ominous aura had grown stronger, harder to suppress. The once subtle presence now radiated an unsettling energy that even he struggled to control.
“Consort Xian…” the Crown Prince said gently, his voice a soothing balm amidst the tension. She rose gracefully, nodding in acknowledgment, her resolve unwavering.
“Elder Brother…” The Fourth Prince greeted him, his voice calm and composed. The Crown Prince had visited the temple before and was familiar with his demeanor.
“I brought Chao Chao to see you. You’ll leave for the temple tomorrow, and who knows when we’ll meet again?” he explained, his eyes searching for any sign of unease.
The Crown Prince extended his hand behind him, ready to offer support. But in an instant, he froze, his heart skipping a beat.
He turned to see… nothing.
“Where’s Chao Chao?!” he exclaimed, panic rising as he scanned the room. She had been here just moments ago, her cheerful presence now inexplicably vanished.
“Not good! It’s dangerous out there!” Consort Xian cried out, wiping away her tears as she rushed toward the rear hall, her fear palpable.
Xie Jun An turned pale as a sheet, his normally calm facade now shattered by the sudden disappearance of the brave little girl.
The three hurriedly followed, their anxiety mounting with each frantic step. Before they could open the door to the rear hall, a chilling laughter rang out, echoing through the corridors like the sound of distant bells.
“So fun!”
“Higher, higher!”
The door swung open, revealing a white-clad figure dangling from the beam—a hanged ghost, its red tongue stretched grotesquely, weeping blood that dripped onto the cold stone floor.
And there, clinging to its leg, was Lu Chao Chao, her small feet off the ground as she floated effortlessly, her eyes shining with mischievous delight.
“Swing higher! Higher! So fun!” she shouted gleefully, her voice filled with an eerie joy that sent shivers down their spines.
To her left stood a disheveled water ghost, its translucent form wavering as it offered her fruit with an obsequious expression, its hollow eyes reflecting sorrowful submission.
“Even I couldn’t make you swing faster!” Chao Chao scolded the hanged ghost, who wailed even louder in grief, its cries echoing ominously in the hall.
“Stop crying! Your blood tears are dripping on me!” Chao Chao snapped, her voice firm despite her young age.
Everyone fell silent, the room heavy with an oppressive stillness that seemed to press down on their very souls.
The young monk scratched his head, recalling how the abbot had tried and failed to exorcise these malevolent spirits multiple times. Yet here they were, reduced to tearful obedience by a little girl whose innocence seemed to transcend the boundaries between the living and the dead.
LOL