Chapter 3

    "Not bad. It seems like their powers grow significantly stronger during the night."

    He stroked his chin, studying the scratches left behind by the malevolent spirits with a curious gleam in his eyes.

    As a former Snow Deity, Mingzhe was incredibly powerful in terms of magical strength. Physically, however, his abilities were somewhat lacking—barely adequate. The one exception was his remarkable speed and agility in fleeing, which had been honed by a deeply ingrained survival instinct over the centuries.

    He admitted to himself that the malevolent spirits posed a significant problem, one he had yet to solve. His divine power remained as strong as ever, no weaker than it had been in the past. This much was evident from his ability to freeze an entire room solid throughout the night without feeling even a hint of fatigue. Clearly, the issue was not with his strength, but with the spirits themselves, which were abnormally resilient.

    Mingzhe decided to let go of the matter of the scratches on the doors and walls. By the time he returned later, he was certain they would be gone. Judging by Xinxin’s determination, the little snow hare wouldn’t rest until the palace had been completely overhauled, down to the last detail.

    The overgrown grass lining the paths remained as unruly as ever, but the bloodstains from the previous night had been thoroughly washed away. It was as if the terrifying events he had experienced were nothing more than a fleeting nightmare.

    The former Snow Deity swept his gaze across the area. Despite the morning light, the atmosphere remained gloomy, cold, and unwelcoming. He stopped at a crossroads and decided to head north first. After all, he needed to inspect all four inner courtyards before the day was done.

    At the very least, he needed to ensure that the four vital lanterns were still burning.

    Not far from the crossroads, Mingzhe felt as if he had stepped into a different world. The path beneath his feet transitioned into a well-paved stone walkway. Though the familiar Si Xuan flowers still bordered the path, they were now arranged neatly, as if regularly maintained and tended. There were no overgrown weeds or unruly grass in sight.

    Ahead, at the end of the path, stood a magnificent inner courtyard. Lanterns glowed brightly, illuminating the whole structure.

    A faint aroma of incense drifted through the air. This inner courtyard was exquisitely beautiful and pristine—so much so that it seemed out of place in the oppressive gloom of the Wang’s palace.

    The ghostly left hand, which had been quiet for some time, suddenly grew restless.

    Mingzhe continued walking forward without hesitation, but the left hand recoiled, retreating from the courtyard. Its body language made it clear that it would not enter the place.

    Looking down at the hand, which now lay on the ground, Mingzhe asked with bewilderment, "Is this not one of your inner courtyards? Why do you look so afraid of it?"

    The left hand’s index finger tapped the ground anxiously, its gestures fraught with frustration. Yet, as just a hand, it was utterly incapable of communicating coherently.

    Mingzhe sighed and crouched down, poking the hand playfully as if it were a wobbling doll.

    “Keep up this foolish act if you must. You can’t speak, but surely you can write, can’t you? A prince of such stature—are you telling me you’re illiterate?”

    The ghost hand froze for a moment before hurriedly scrawling something in the dirt. The resulting character was crude and barely legible:

    ‘Danger.’

    Beyond that single word, Mingzhe could make out nothing else. His familiarity with ancient written Chinese was lacking, a skill he thought he should improve at some point—but certainly not today.

    “I understand. If you can’t go in, then stay here.”

    He smoothed the wrinkles of his gown with a flick of his hand, adjusted it neatly, and stepped into the northern inner courtyard.

    Beside the courtyard were two small ponds, their waters perpetually overflowing and leaving the surrounding ground damp and muddy.

    Mingzhe lifted the hem of his gown slightly, gliding over the sodden ground with ease as he approached the entrance.

    From the outside, the courtyard was elegant but appeared rather ordinary. Inside, however, the space was entirely open, devoid of rooms or partitions. At its center stood a striking statue.

    The statue depicted a young and handsome commander, poised mid-strike with a spear thrust forward. The spear’s tip pointed directly at anyone who entered the courtyard.

    Mingzhe’s gaze swept across the intricate details, and his attention was soon drawn to the very lantern he was tasked with monitoring. The lantern was made of glass. Exquisitely crafted in white and fragile in appearance, it rested in the statue’s outstretched left hand.

    The lantern’s flame burned steadily, showing no signs of faltering. At the base of the statue were offerings of fruit and pastries, suggesting a space more akin to a shrine honoring a hero than an ordinary courtyard.

    Nearby, he spotted a container of oil meant for refilling the lantern, though it seemed there was still plenty left for the time being, so there was no need to rush to refill it now.

    Though he had encountered no one along the way, the freshly lit incense sticks and candles suggested otherwise. Even the fruit and pastries appeared newly placed. Mingzhe circled the statue, but apart from the main entrance, he found no other openings leading into or out of the courtyard. However, as he reached the back of the statue, he discovered a hidden painting.

    The artwork was meticulously crafted, even from a distance, full of life and detail. It depicted the same figure as the statue, except that there is no lantern, and the left hand was missing.

    The figure in the painting was bloodied, the backdrop a battlefield strewn with corpses. At the bottom of the painting, there was a word written that even in his broken language, he could still read it, and it was ‘Guo Yuexiang.’

    Mingzhe wasn’t so confused that he forgot this name.

    It was the real name of Shin Wang of Zhongwang. Perhaps because the original owner of his body was from a distant land, his knowledge of this Shin Wang was limited to the tales and rumors that had spread far and wide. The stories spoke of an extraordinary man—graced with both martial prowess and striking looks—who had been named Shin Wang at a young age as the eldest son of the Empress. His many accomplishments in battle only solidified his reputation.

    This was just a small rumor that a mere servant could know. It wasn’t much to go on, but at least now Mingzhe could visualize his husband’s face.

    He had thought he would need to collect all the prince’s missing body parts before finding out whether he was handsome or plain.

    Mingzhe meticulously examined the northern courtyard but was careful not to linger too long.

    He wasn’t entirely sure what his next move should be, but his purpose was clear: he needed to learn more about this Shin Wang. Why had such a celebrated figure met such a grim end? Who could have orchestrated his murder, and for what purpose?

    For someone to become a vengeful spirit was no simple feat. It required an immense degree of hatred and malice. From the stories alone, it was clear that Shin Wang must have been a virtuous and noble individual. As the Emperor's favored son, his life was likely free from hardship. A capable person who had united multiple territories into a single domain under Zhongwang, it was difficult to imagine how someone like him could meet such a tragic end.

    With nothing left to investigate in this palace, Mingzhe gave the lantern one last inspection to ensure it would not easily extinguish. He had been a bit careless the previous night. Though he was curious, he had yet to reach the point of wanting to find out firsthand what might happen if the lantern went out.

    For now, his only refuge was the bridal chamber he had used as a shelter. Whether hiding from people or spirits, it remained the safest option. Since he hadn’t fully explored this place yet, chasing after or playing cat-and-mouse with something dangerous seemed an unnecessary risk.

    But as soon as one foot stepped beyond the courtyard’s door, the overcast sky that had loomed since morning began releasing a gentle rain.

    The former Snow Deity, who always found joy in using his powers, conjured an ice umbrella. Holding it aloft, he lifted the hem of his long, flowing gown. Just like that, he remained perfectly dry.

    The only problem was his husband’s hapless hand. Lacking a brain, it seemed incapable of realizing it should seek shelter from the rain.

    When the ghostly left hand saw Mingzhe, its earlier agitation seemed to subside. It leapt toward him, as if trying to check whether he was safe and unharmed. Yet before it could cling to him, it was unceremoniously caught by Mingzhe, who wiped it thoroughly with a cloth until it was spotless.

    The ghost hand, feeling slighted, bristled at being treated with such disdain. But what could it do? It couldn’t speak, couldn’t communicate—utterly powerless.

    “It’s raining now. Do you think it’s still possible to visit the other three inner courtyards?” Mingzhe murmured, as if asking for advice. He pondered the instructions given during the wedding ceremony the day before, wondering if there had been any specific warnings about rain.

    He sighed, reasoning that he needed to investigate further regardless. The lantern in the northern inner courtyard still burned brightly, but there was no guarantee the same would hold true for the other three courtyards.

    Better to be proactive than to scramble for a solution later.

    The only trouble was the unpleasant weather. Morning had arrived, yet not once since his arrival in this world had he glimpsed the sun.

    Though he was a former Snow Deity who disliked the heat of the sun, that didn’t mean he enjoyed rain either. Rain made him feel sticky and uncomfortable, and wet clothes were far from pleasant. Just the thought of it soured his mood.

    Quickening his pace, Mingzhe heightened his awareness. He hadn’t yet figured out how to handle the ghosts or other supernatural beings lurking within this cursed Wang’s palace. He was quite certain that the female ghost he had encountered the previous night wasn’t the only entity here. There had to be other spirits or monstrous creatures, just waiting for him to provoke them.

    However, he didn’t need to seek out new horrors. Simply stepping off the stone path leading from the northern inner courtyard, the rain, which had been falling moments ago, abruptly ceased as if it had never been.

    Mingzhe froze, turning to look back…

    The northern courtyard, beautiful and brimming with life moments before, now felt chillingly eerie when combined with the unnatural cessation of rain. It was as though an unseen boundary had been crossed.

    He couldn’t pinpoint what had changed in his perception, but he was certain that this rain was no ordinary phenomenon.

    The ponds flanking the path, always overflowing with water, rippled constantly because of the rain that fell on them.

    When he came out, he hadn’t noticed anything unusual. But when he looked back again, he realized that water was now pooling in front of the courtyard, rising steadily. Within moments, it had reached his ankles.

    Mingzhe narrowed his eyes. His keen vision, sharper than most, allowed him to discern distant details. He focused his gaze, trying to make sense of what he saw.

    The courtyard’s door had been opened. With careful observation, he could see the tip of the spear wielded by the statue of Shin Wang clearly visible through the entrance. And if he hadn’t mistaken, he spotted a figure he recognized: the female ghost, crawling slowly out of the courtyard.

    Her rain-soaked body remained grotesquely contorted, her twisted form moving deliberately toward one of the ponds. Then, she slipped into the water, vanishing beneath the surface.

    The pond’s surface rippled gently, and the rain began to pour down again, heavier than before.

    "..." He was confident that he had thoroughly searched the courtyard earlier and found nothing amiss. So where could this female ghost have been hiding?

    As he pieced things together, a realization struck him. There was one place he hadn’t inspected carefully enough.

    The roof of the courtyard…

    If his suspicion was correct, it would be a grave mistake. It would mean he had been under the watchful eye of something—or someone—intent on harming him, and he hadn’t even noticed that he was being watched.

    Moving forward, he resolved to make a habit of checking ceilings and rooftops more diligently. He couldn’t afford to leave himself vulnerable like this again…