Part II: The Story of the Right Hand

    Chapter 11

    “I feel like sunbathing.”

    Mingzhe propped his chin on his hand, gazing out the window. It was raining again today, pouring since the early hours before dawn. The gloomy sky and relentless rain outside brought back memories of the warm sunlight he had basked in the previous day.

    ‘Why not step outside the palace for a bit of fresh air?’

    “Staying in here is safest. If I go out, would you dare promise me that your father won’t bring trouble my way?”

    Shin Wang’s palace was filled with mysteries and strange occurrences. Because of that, no one dared infiltrate it to spy or keep watch. But outside the palace, it was different. Open spaces like that made it far harder to protect oneself.

    Former Snow Deity had no patience for troublesome situations he hadn’t willingly invited into his life!

    Mingzhe extended his hand out the window, his slender fingers playing with the falling rain. Today’s rain wasn’t heavy, and the wind was calm, so Xinxin had allowed him to open the window to enjoy the view.

    Speaking of which, after dealing with the events at the northern inner courtyard and witnessing Guo Yuexiang’s changes, Mingzhe had begun piecing together a rough plan for what to do next.

    The only obstacle now was his husband. Guo Yuexiang was aware of the danger the royal palace posed, but when Mingzhe mentioned that the Emperor’s behavior seemed strange, Guo Yuexiang merely pretended to remain silent, and appeared reluctant to fully believe him.

    It was understandable. To Shin Wang, the Emperor was a good father who loved him most dearly. For someone to claim that the mysterious death of him might be associated with the person who cherished him the most, it would naturally be hard to believe.

    But that was fine. It was just speculation, after all. Mingzhe didn’t have any evidence, so he refrained from acting annoying by arguing this point with Guo Yuexiang.

    No matter what direction the story unfolded in the future, the one bearing the grudge was Guo Yuexiang, not him. How Guo Yuexiang chose to resolve it was his decision alone.

    The issue was that Guo Yuexiang didn’t even know how he had died. That complicated things. It was already difficult to locate where each piece of his body parts had been hidden. If even the owner of the body was in the dark, then the resurrection of Shin Wang might take far longer than anticipated.

    “Well, for now, I have three inner courtyards to worry about. Who knows when the fire lanterns might change? Better to stay inside than risk going out.”

    The daily task of checking on the fire lanterns couldn’t be neglected. Mingzhe couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

    Mingzhe waited for the rain to stop, and when the hour of Wei[1] started, Mingzhe rose to prepare for his inspection of the lanterns.

    If someone asked him which inner courtyard seemed the most peaceful and inviting, his answer would undoubtedly be the eastern inner courtyard. It was the only place where just a few Si Xuan flowers grew.

    Mingzhe walked along the path. Although he was alone this time, he wasn’t worried. He knew that someone was always watching over him, even if they had no physical form.

    The eastern inner courtyard had a serene atmosphere, reminiscent of a scholar’s retreat. It was surrounded by a large, man-made lake.

    The lake had a dark, seemingly bottomless water. Mingzhe had once used an ice rod to measure its depth and found the lake was surprisingly deep. If someone fell in, it would be nearly impossible for them to climb out.

    Perhaps it was because the entire courtyard was surrounded by water that there was no room for Si Xuan flowers. This was the sole distinguishing feature of this inner courtyard compared to the other eerie places within Shin Wang’s palace.

    To enter the inner courtyard, one had to cross a small stone bridge. The bridge was carved with motifs of Si Xuan flowers and bore no signs of weathering or age, remaining pristine and as new as the day it was built.

    Much like the northern inner courtyard, the image of the four inner courtyards radiated an aura of life, as though they belonged to a different world from the rest of the ominous Shin Wang’s palace. Here, not even the rain touched it. Despite the rain pouring for hours earlier, the stone bridge was entirely dry, with not a single trace of dampness.

    The interior of the inner courtyard was a place Mingzhe had explored dozens of times before. There was nothing here—not even the faintest hint of an ominous presence.

    The statue of Shin Wang remained at the courtyard’s entrance. This time, the statue depicted a man kneeling on one knee, his left hand gripping a sword planted in the ground, while his right hand held a lit lantern. A closer look at the painting at the back, one would see additional details.

    In the painting, it revealed the same pose, but this time, the right hand was missing. Below the image, a pool of water was depicted, filled with skeletal arms reaching out, seemingly trying to grasp at the young man.

    The fire within the lantern burned steadily. Mingzhe couldn’t find any other clues, and even Guo Yuexiang couldn’t offer assistance. Ever since he had stepped into the eastern inner courtyard, the connection between him and Guo Yuexiang had been severed entirely.

    “This is getting tricky,” he muttered.

    Sometimes, triggering a pursuit was necessary. The northern inner courtyard had its twisted, contorted female ghost, so Mingzhe couldn’t believe that this place lacked a guardian for the missing piece.

    After circling the courtyard for what felt like an eternity, he found nothing new. He meticulously scanned the water and thoroughly examined the interior of the courtyard, leaving no corner unchecked. Yet, the outcome remained unchanged.

    He lingered there for hours, from afternoon to evening, until finally, the sun dipped below the horizon.

    Mingzhe gave up. While he no longer feared the dangers of venturing out at night, he was a Snow Deity, not a deity of light. Coming here alone with nothing more than his determination, he hadn’t even brought a lantern.

    I’d better head back...

    He resolved to leave. The courtyard was well-lit, so he hadn’t noticed how late it had become. Mingzhe stepped onto the stone bridge to leave, but as soon as his foot touched the bridge, a sound echoed from behind almost instantly.

    Thud...

    Mingzhe froze. The sound was faint, akin to the soft tread of footsteps. With one foot on the bridge, it made sense for him to make such a noise. However, his other foot was still on solid ground—so how could there be two sets of footsteps?

    Remaining calm, Mingzhe placed his other foot onto the bridge. Almost simultaneously, the mysterious sound behind him echoed again.

    Thud...

    It was clear now—he wasn’t imagining things!

    Mingzhe’s composure was remarkable. Instead of hurriedly turning around, he chose to keep walking. With every step he took, the sound of footsteps behind him mirrored his own, step for step. As the noise of footsteps echoed, a chilling sensation crept closer and closer. Finally, when he could practically feel its presence at his back, he summoned his ice blade and swung it swiftly.

    The razor-sharp ice blade sliced through nothing but empty air…

    There was nothing behind him—no one waiting, no visible presence. It was as if the sounds and feelings he’d experienced had been nothing more than a trick of his mind.

    Now, Mingzhe looked once more at the eastern inner courtyard before him. If the northern inner courtyard transformed when the rain came, this courtyard seemed to shift in nature once the sun set beyond the horizon.

    He tore his gaze away from the eerie beauty of the courtyard and resumed walking. But the thudding footsteps that had disappeared returned once more. This time, he quickened his pace, yet the sound of footsteps continued to follow him, making him feel that the stone bridge was unnaturally long.

    The unseen presence behind him made no effort to hide its steps. Mingzhe knew that turning around would likely reveal nothing, so he began to devise another method.

    Casting his eyes downward, he caught sight of the artificial lake surrounding the courtyard and the bridge. Each time he stepped forward, he glanced at the water’s surface, searching for any reflections that might reveal what was pursuing him.

    That’s when he saw it—a tall, imposing figure following just a single arm’s length behind him. The figure wore traditional black Chinese robes and carried a blood-stained sword in one hand. The other hand was raised, as if reaching forward, attempting to grasp at his neck. Wherever this figure stepped, pools of blood appeared beneath its feet.

    Yet this sight didn’t frighten Mingzhe. What made him freeze, and truly feel a chill run down his spine till he had to quicken his pace was the figure who trailed closely behind him…

    He had no head…

    The figure’s head was entirely missing, leaving only a neck and broad shoulders. The neck was cleanly severed, as if sliced in one swift, precise stroke. The wound revealed smooth bones, veins, and decaying flesh.

    “...” When Mingzhe took in the full sight of the headless figure, he quickened his pace even more, nearly breaking into a run.

    At last, the end of the bridge came into view. Without hesitation, Mingzhe half-ran, half-leapt across it. As soon as he left the stone bridge, the footsteps behind him ceased, and the figure’s reflection vanished from the water’s surface.

    Turning to look back at the bridge, Mingzhe saw faint, bloody footprints that quickly faded away, leaving no trace behind.

    The eastern inner courtyard now loomed before him, but it had transformed into an unfamiliar place. Mingzhe stared at it for a moment before hastily retreating from the area.

    Retreating to regroup isn’t cowardice. That was Mingzhe’s number one rule for survival!

[1] The hour of Wei corresponds to the time period between 1:00 PM and 2:59 PM.