“Smash it all!”
Standing atop the high steps before the Sacred Moon Shrine within Linhan Palace, Zhang Mu issued his command to the mass of soldiers below.
The elite troops, well-fed and full of vigor, carried out the destruction without hesitation. Low houses and pavilions collapsed one after another. Even the two humble rooms once inhabited by Mu Xueshi and Su Ruhan were reduced to ashes in the blink of an eye.
The once desolate and silent Linhan Palace was transformed in an instant into a scene of chaotic uproar—hammering, shattering, shouting—sounds crashing together in a deafening tide. Smoke and dust filled the air. Amid the disorder, some soldiers quietly stuffed valuables into their sleeves, while anything deemed worthless was crushed without a second glance.
Standing at the entrance of the Third Prince’s manor, Su Ruhan could clearly hear the commotion from afar. Something within his chest felt as though it were being slowly torn apart.
Ever since his demotion, Linhan Palace had been his refuge. There, he had a bed, a table, and a chair. The open ground beside the thatched shed was where he trained. Mu Xueshi had once woven a straw dummy there… and the great water vat had long since dried.
Now, all of it was gone.
Zhang Mu escorted Princess Wenyang out of Linhan Palace by another path. The princess glanced at him with clear dissatisfaction.
“Take me around this courtyard. Do you know what interesting things lie within the Third Prince’s grounds?”
Zhang Mu shook his head. “I do not. Even His Majesty cannot enter this place at will. I am but a guard—how could I know its inner workings?”
Smack!
A sharp slap landed across his face.
“Useless! Even a place this famous is beyond your knowledge—what use are you?”
Zhang Mu’s expression darkened. He swallowed his anger and said through gritted restraint, “Your Highness is correct.”
Princess Wenyang cast him a sidelong glance, a coquettish smile playing on her lips.
“Then… you must at least know the way to the Third Prince’s chambers from here?”
Zhang Mu’s face changed immediately.
“Your Highness, my lord has expressly ordered that you are not to wander freely. The Third Prince’s grounds are unlike any other—filled with mechanisms and heavily guarded. Should anything happen—”
“You insolent wretch!”
Princess Wenyang snapped angrily.
“I am to be half the mistress of this place in the future! Must I be denied even a simple stroll? And what is the Emperor to me? I shall one day lie at the Third Prince’s side—would he truly begrudge me this?”
Zhang Mu cursed inwardly at her shameless words. He was a trusted subordinate, efficient and upright, even favored by Emperor Hao Lin. Yet here he was, subjected daily to the scorn of this overbearing princess.
Suppressing his fury, he said coldly, “If Your Highness does not fear danger, then I shall accompany you.”
Only then did her expression ease.
“However…” Zhang Mu added, casting her another glance, “I must first return to Linhan Palace to issue orders and assign someone to supervise the laborers. Please wait here for a moment.”
Before she could respond, his figure flickered—and vanished like a shadow.
Princess Wenyang’s insult died halfway in her throat, leaving her seething with rage.
Linhan Palace had never been complex in design, nor lavish in ornament. Under the hands of several hundred soldiers, it was quickly reduced to utter ruin.
No one noticed the low, solitary grave at its center—until the order was given to set fire.
“There seems to be a grave here!”
A soldier’s shout drew attention.
Zhang Mu, having just arrived, stepped forward. He crouched and examined the soil before the grave. Without careful scrutiny, it might have been mistaken for nothing more than a small mound.
“No wonder we haven’t found any treasure,” someone muttered excitedly. “Perhaps it’s inside this grave.”
Indeed, royal tombs often contained burial treasures.
Zhang Mu hesitated. Since the Third Prince had relinquished Linhan Palace, everything here now belonged to Emperor Hao Lin.
“Why not dig it up?”
The soldiers clamored eagerly, their greed laid bare.
Yet as Zhang Mu stood near the grave, an inexplicable chill crept through his body. Moreover, if this truly belonged to someone of royal blood, why was there no marker?
To dig—or not?
Even if left untouched, the ground would be leveled eventually. And for a future palace residence, a grave here would be inauspicious.
“…Dig it.”
At his command, the men set to work.
Zhang Mu retreated several steps, relying on his martial instincts. Something felt wrong—he dared not stand too close, wary of corpse poison.
As the grave was unearthed, what lay within caused all present to hold their breath.
A pure white jade coffin.
Even at a glance, one could tell it was of the finest quality.
Yet what truly horrified them were the rows of skeletal remains surrounding it.
Each corpse had been nailed onto wooden planks, arranged in rigid formation. Fixed by countless iron spikes, their postures were frozen—kneeling toward the center, as if pleading for absolution.
Silence fell.
The soldiers, hardened by countless battles, now felt a chill seep into their bones.
The corpses were arranged in strict order—those nearer the center still bore remnants of fine garments, marking them as nobles. Those farther out, stripped to bone, were clearly servants buried alongside.
All knelt the same way.
Without exception.
And among them were empty spaces.
Spaces that seemed to be… waiting.
Some were even marked with birth dates.
This was no ordinary burial.
The layered hues of the soil revealed the truth—this grave had been reopened again and again, each time adding new bodies.
A towering soldier, overcome with dread, let out a shout.
The spell of silence shattered. The others began to retreat in unease.
Amid the chaos, one soldier lost his footing and fell into the pit—landing squarely atop the coffin.
Bang!
The dull impact echoed… followed by a grinding shift.
His face turned deathly pale.
Then—
The coffin lid began to move.
Slowly.
On its own.
A glimpse of white silk appeared beneath.
“Corpse… resurrection!!”
Two young soldiers collapsed to the ground, screaming in terror.
“Hold your ground!”
Zhang Mu shouted, striding forward.
“Why fear the dead when you do not fear the living?”
Though unease stirred within him, he pressed on.
At worst, it would be a reanimated corpse.
Nothing more.
But before he reached the grave—
The coffin burst open.
The lid slammed down, crushing the fallen soldier beneath it—yet not disturbing a single surrounding corpse.
A figure in white soared into the air.
Light shimmered all around her.
She was no ghost.
She resembled a celestial maiden descending to the mortal realm.
Her form was exquisite beyond words—her movement alone enough to steal breath.
Clad entirely in white, with flowing hair bound by a pale hairpin, a veil covered half her face. Only her eyes were visible—bright, alive, and glimmering like starlight.
The soldiers froze.
Not out of obedience—but awe.
“Dare to desecrate my sister’s grave…”
Her voice was soft as water—yet it bound them like a curse.
“…have you no wish to live?”
“Sister…?”
Only Zhang Mu retained a shred of clarity. But the moment his gaze met hers, he felt his inner strength draining away.
In a daze, he saw her remove the gleaming hairpin from her hair.
The world spun.
In the next instant—
Hundreds of soldiers collapsed where they stood.
Silence returned.
Dead silence.
Su Ruhan felt a violent jolt in his chest, as though his blood were reversing its flow. All his strength gathered inward, nearly suffocating him.
“Yue Lingchai…”
A flicker of shock crossed his eyes as he turned toward Linhan Palace.
Princess Wenyang, after waiting for some time, grew impatient.
“We’re not waiting anymore,” she declared, glancing at her maids. “Let’s explore on our own. If there’s nothing interesting, we’ll return the way we came.”
The maids dared not object.
Fearful though they were, they followed.
Princess Wenyang herself felt no fear. Though the paths were winding and the night deep, how large could the Third Prince’s courtyard truly be?
And even if she lost her way—
Zhang Mu would report it, and the Third Prince would surely come to rescue her.
At the thought of him searching for her in concern, her heart stirred.
Perhaps… getting lost would not be so bad.
If chance encounters were unlikely, then perhaps a little trouble would bring her closer to him.
With that mischievous thought, she deliberately ventured toward rougher terrain.
She had barely taken a few steps—
When the ground beneath her feet trembled.
With a cry, she lost her footing—
And tumbled down a steep slope tangled with thorns and brambles.
Futile Devices Scans 
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