Chapter Text
Centuries have passed since the era of Jun Wu, the former Heavenly Emperor, whose rule left a lasting mark on Heaven and Earth. In his place, Xiè Lián ascended as the New Heavenly Emperor, a change that rippled across the Three Realms. The world, mortal, divine, and Ghost City, has transformed in unimaginable ways.
The Heavenly System, once rigidly hierarchical, has adapted, embracing flexibility and compassion under Xiè Lian's leadership. The very appearance of Heaven itself has shifted; its ethereal palaces and celestial gardens glow with a serene light. The landscape has transformed dramatically from a single celestial city in the sky to a sprawling island suspended amid endless clouds, infused with the raw beauty of nature. Inspired by the mortal realm's lush wilderness, Heaven now resembles a vast, enchanted world of its own, embracing the wonders of forests, towering mountains, tranquil lakes, and ethereal creatures
Following his marriage to Xiè Lian, the Heavenly Emperor, Hua Cheng—ruler of Ghost City—undertook a monumental expansion of his domain. Driven by both his love for Xiè Lian and a desire to establish a more formidable realm, Hua Cheng transformed Ghost City from a shadowed refuge into a vast and thriving metropolis, extending its boundaries tenfold. The city has grown in complexity, with new districts ranging from bustling marketplaces, where vendors hawk enchanted wares, to quiet residential areas, where even the most elusive spirits can find peace.
Together, these transformations have redefined the world, marking a new era where Heaven, Ghost City, and the mortal realm coexist in a dynamic balance.
As Ghost City expanded, Hua Cheng found himself overwhelmed by an ever-growing flood of duties. As the ruler, he was responsible for overseeing the safety and order of his realm.
To alleviate his workload and ensure the city continued to thrive, Hua Cheng decided to establish an elite governing body known as the Nobles of Ghost City, or the High Society. These were not ordinary spirits; Hua Cheng carefully selected each noble from among the wisest, most influential, and loyal spirits within his realm. Each noble was granted authority over a specific district or aspect of Ghost City, from enforcing laws and maintaining the peace to overseeing commerce and spiritual welfare. They wear robes adorned with symbols unique to each district and are respected—sometimes feared—by the residents of the city. The High Society quickly became the backbone of Ghost City’s governance, managing the day-to-day affairs with a blend of loyalty and discipline.
At the highest echelon stood the Gōng (Duke), an elite rank granted to those who commanded vast areas of the city and were entrusted with overseeing the most critical matters of state. These dukes held the ultimate authority in their respective domains, with a great deal of autonomy in how they administered their districts. Their robes shimmered with deep crimson and gold embroidery, and they were known to be fiercely protective of the city’s well-being.
Below the Gōng were the Hóu (Marquis), who oversaw smaller but still important territories within Ghost City. The marquis were often tasked with mediating between the higher ranks of nobility and the spirits residing in the city’s various districts. Their robes were decorated with intricate patterns of silver and sapphire, symbolizing their balance of strength and wisdom.
Next in the hierarchy were the Bó (Earls), tasked with overseeing the well-being of Ghost City’s many inhabitants, from ensuring fair commerce to protecting weaker spirits from harm. The Earls often held direct contact with the people, addressing their needs and concerns with a more personal touch. Their roles required both diplomacy and compassion, and the robes of the earls were embroidered with silver thread in the shape of twisting vines, representing growth and connection.
The Zi (Viscounts) ranked below the Earls and were the stewards of the city’s vital, day-to-day operations. They managed a variety of essential functions, from the regulation of spiritual trade to the handling of disputes among residents. Known for their level-headed nature and impartial judgments, the Viscounts were widely respected by the city's residents. The viscount's robes were lighter in color, often in shades of pale blue or white, with intricate silver filigree tracing the patterns of the wind.
Finally, the Nán (Baron) held the lowest rank of nobility, though their position was by no means insignificant. Barons were granted responsibility for overseeing the smallest districts or certain specialized functions within the city, such as organizing festivals or guarding sacred sites. Though their authority was more limited, their role in upholding the law and maintaining order was essential. The baron’s robes were simple yet elegant, often in dark hues like black or deep purple, embroidered with symbols of protection and vigilance.
In the mortal realm, a growing unease swept through the lands as a surge of resentful energy began to poison the very air. The resentful energy, which had remained dormant for centuries, now stirred with alarming force, causing restlessness among the people. It manifested in terrifying ways—malicious spirits, sudden storms of dark miasma, and unnatural occurrences that threatened both the living and the dead.
In response to this threat, a small determined group of righteous people—warriors, nobles, monks, and butchers—came together, united by their shared sense of duty to protect the people. These individuals, each skilled in their unique arts—be it swordsmanship, spiritual cultivation, or ancient lore—banded together to form their Sects. United by a single purpose, they embarked on a dangerous adventure, journeying across the land in search of a way to rid of the resentful energy.
Their travels took them far and wide, across misty mountains and through shadowed forests. After weeks of searching and overcoming treacherous obstacles, the group stumbled upon an unexpected clue—a faint trail of energy leading them to a distant and desolate land. They stumbled upon a vast, barren desert kingdom. The kingdom itself, though long abandoned by its people, was still a striking sight—its crumbling stone walls adorned with faded, intricate carvings that spoke of forgotten rituals and long-lost traditions. As the group explored the ruins, they realized that the key to stopping the resentment could be hidden in this forsaken place. As they ventured deeper into the forsaken kingdom, the group of righteous cultivators stumbled upon a hidden library.
Each scroll they unrolled seemed to hum with a faint, otherworldly energy, revealing a wealth of knowledge that stretched back to the origins of the world. There were scrolls on the delicate art of cultivation, detailing techniques that could elevate one’s spirit and mind to unimaginable heights, allowing practitioners to harness spiritual energy and manipulate the elements. Other scrolls detailed the nature of resentment itself, unraveling how negative energy could corrupt souls, transforming them into vengeful spirits that lingered in torment. Some scrolls recounted the lives of famous ghost kings, and powerful spirits who had once ruled vast territories, wielding immense power over the realms of the living and the dead. There were records of gods who had descended to aid or punish humanity, their actions shaping the course of history.
Realizing the value of what they had uncovered, the group carefully gathered as many scrolls as they could carry. When they returned home, they poured over the texts, uncovering profound insights and strategies to combat the resentful energy. To protect the world n more effectively, they divided the land into five distinct regions, each leader taking an area to watch over, cultivate, and defend. These leaders each established their sect, developing unique philosophies, practices, and cultivation techniques based on the ancient texts they had found. Thus, they became known as the Great Five Sects. Each sect developed its own identity: some specializing in exorcism and spiritual defense, others focusing on the healing arts or martial skills drawn from the wisdom of the scrolls.
With the establishment of the Great Five Sects, the realm gradually transformed. Inspired by the strength and resilience of the original Sects, smaller Sects began to spring up across the land, each offering their guidance and training to combat the persistent threat of resentful energy. With the spread of cultivation techniques and protective arts, more and more people gained the skills to guard themselves against resentful energy. By now, asking the gods for aid had become a last resort, with mortals increasingly confident in their strength and knowledge to ward off malevolent spirits and curses.
One fateful day, an era-defining shift began with the rise of a new leader. In one of the Great Five Sects, a young man named Wen Rouhan inherited the title of Sect Leader. Known for his sharp intellect, unyielding resolve, and ambition, Wen Rouhan was widely respected within his Sect.
Chaos arrived in the realm quietly at first, in the form of a small, ancient-looking metal fragment—a relic unlike any seen before. The piece was etched with complex, unfamiliar symbols, and a strange, almost malevolent energy seemed to pulse from its surface. When the artifact entered the realm, the pieces scattered across vast distances, embedding themselves in different regions. Each fragment carried a powerful resonance, vibrating faintly with a pulse that stirred the resentful energy around it, as though awakening a malevolent spirit long dormant.
Wen Rouhan was among the first to recognize the grave threat posed by the mysterious metal pieces. He began to study the fragments and their influence, hoping to understand their origin and purpose. As his knowledge grew, so too did his ambition, he became obsessed with finding the fragments, believing that the metal held secrets that could reshape the world. Under his leadership, his sect launched an aggressive search across the land, seeking to seize each fragment before it fell into rival hands.
This story is not about Wen Rouhan, nor the great conflict that would soon shake the mortal realm. This is the story of a little boy, whose light shone brighter than the sun even in the darkest of times.
He was just a baby when he was abandoned in the streets of Yiling, a city known for its misty nights and quiet alleyways. His parents, once kind and loving, had been hunters—brave souls who roamed the night, chasing beasts and spirits in the darkness. But that fateful night, as they ventured deeper into the forest to hunt a particularly vicious creature, their lives were stolen away by the very dangers they sought to conquer. They never returned.
For two long days, the baby boy remained in the inn, crying softly in his crib, his tiny hands reaching out as though searching for the warmth and protection of his parents. The innkeeper took the small child and placed him into a worn wooden box. There were no promises, no comforting words—just the dull, grim reality that the child would be left to fend for himself
In the final moments of Hua Ying’s biological parents' lives, as their breaths grew shallow and their blood mingled with the cold earth, the boy’s parents clung to one last thread of hope—a prayer, whispered between them in a voice trembling with both fear and love.
"Please... any god... please protect and take care of our child..." Their voices trembled in the stillness, carried only by the wind that whispered through the trees, unheard by mortal ears but clear to those who listened closely. "We left him in Yiling... his name is Wei Ying. Please... protect him..." The prayer was desperate, a cry born of love and fear, one last act of devotion as they faced the inevitable.
The night swallowed their prayers, and with it, their lives. But those prayers—filled with longing and devotion—did not fall on deaf ears.
Far above, in the Heavenly realm where gods and spirits resided, the newly ascended Heavenly Emperor, Xiè Lian, and his formidable, fearsome husband, the Ghost King Hua Cheng, were lying in peaceful slumber. The whispers echoed in Xiè Lian’s mind, pulling him from his dreams as though an invisible hand had shaken him awake
“San Lang…” Xiè Lian’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he turned to his husband, the Ghost King Hua Chen. “Did you hear that?”
Hua Cheng, whose senses were honed sharper than even the most powerful of gods, nodded in understanding. His gaze, typically unreadable, now seemed to reflect the faintest hint of concern, a rare emotion from the ghost king known for his unshakable resolve. “I did,” he replied, his voice low and steady, though it carried an undertone of something deeper—a sense of recognition.
Without another word, the pair moved in perfect synchronization. Xiè Lian rose gracefully from the bed, his white robes flowing around him like the moonlight itself. Hua Cheng, too, was already pulling on his dark garments, his movements swift and deliberate. The newly ascended Heavenly Emperor and the mighty Ghost King left their bed-chamber, bound together by a shared purpose—to answer the prayers of a pair of lost souls.
The newly ascended Heavenly Emperor, Xiè Lian, and his husband, the Ghost King Hua Cheng, descended to the mortal realm. Their journey to Yiling was swift, their hearts heavy with urgency. As they ventured deeper into the winding alleys of Yiling, Xiè Lian’s gaze fell upon an old, faded inn nestled at the edge of the street. The sign swayed in the breeze, its paint chipped and worn with age. The faint traces of time seemed to bleed into the very wood of the building.
The innkeeper, a man whose face was hardened by years of petty transactions and grumbling customers, looked up from behind the counter, his eyes narrowing as Xiè Lian approached.
Xiè Lian wasted no time. His voice, though soft, carried an air of command as he asked, “Have you seen a baby boy who was staying here two or three days ago?”
The innkeeper’s face twitched for a moment, as though he knew exactly what Xiè Lian was referring to. He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair with a look of indifference. “The baby was staying here two days ago,” he said, his words dripping with casual disregard. “But I threw him out yesterday. No one came to pay for the room, and he was taking up space that could’ve been rented out to someone else. His presence was just lowering my income, so I left him in the streets. No use keeping him here if no one’s going to pay.”
Before Xie Lian could contain himself, he stormed out of the inn, his heart racing as his mind struggled to process what he had just heard. Without hesitation, Xiè Lian darted down the streets of Yiling, each step more frantic than the last. He was afraid—terrified that the child would be lost in the dark maze of the city, alone, starving, and vulnerable to the harsh elements.
Suddenly, a voice pierced the panic that clouded Xiè Lian’s thoughts. “Mister!” a woman called out from the shadows. Xiè Lian spun around, startled, and his eyes locked onto the woman’s face. She was an older woman, her expression cautious but filled with a glimmer of empathy.
Her eyes were wide, unsure, but there was a quiet urgency in her voice. “Are you looking for the baby boy the innkeeper threw out?” she asked, her voice cautious, as though she wasn’t sure whether she should speak.
Xiè Lian’s heart skipped a beat. He could hardly believe it. The woman’s words were like a spark in the dark. “Yes! I’m looking for him. Have you seen him?” His voice was almost pleading, the desperation in his eyes clear.
The woman, seeing his urgency, nodded quickly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “Across the street and turn left. That’s where the innkeeper left him. He was abandoned there in a small box, crying in the cold.”
Before she could say another word, Xiè Lian, unable to wait a moment longer, bolted in the direction she indicated. His legs carried him faster than ever, each heartbeat pounding in his chest as his feet echoed against the cobblestones.
The moment Xiè Lian arrived at the small, dimly lit alley where the lady had directed him, he was met with an unexpected and rather amusing sight. There, in the middle of the street, stood Hua Cheng, the towering and fearsome Ghost King, usually the picture of poise and power, but at this moment, he was awkwardly holding the tiny infant. Hua Cheng, usually unshaken and confident in every way, was trying his best to balance the baby with a careful yet somewhat hesitant grip. The contrast between Hua Cheng’s dark, elegant attire and the tiny, helpless child was striking, and the sight made Xiè Lian stop dead in his tracks, an amused smile tugging at his lips.
Unable to help himself, Xiè Lian let out a small laugh, his voice light with affection. “San Lang,” he called out, his tone filled with warmth.
Hua Cheng’s head snapped up at the sound of his name, his face flushing slightly as he met Xiè Lian’s gaze. “Gege,” Hua Cheng greeted with a soft smile, his voice still carrying that deep and soothing tone.
Xiè Lian closed the distance between them, his heart swelling at the sight of the baby nestled safely in his husband's arms. The little one’s big silver eyes gleamed with innocent curiosity, his pale skin almost glowing in the dim light of the street, and his smile, so bright and pure, seemed to light up the entire world around them.
“What a cute child!” Xiè Lian exclaimed, his voice filled with adoration as he leaned closer to the baby. His hand, warm and gentle, cupped the baby’s soft cheek, caressing it tenderly. “Big silver eyes, pale skin, and that bright smile...” He chuckled softly, his heart stirring with affection for the child.
Hua Cheng’s expression softened, and a subtle glint of mischief danced in his eyes. “Since you like him so much,” he said, his tone teasing but also a little hesitant, “Let’s adopt him.”
Xiè Lian’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his heart suddenly racing. The idea of having a child, of starting a family with Hua Cheng, filled him with a blend of excitement and nervousness that made his breath catch in his throat.“I— I don’t know, I mean, it’s…” Xie Lian’s words faltered as he tried to collect his thoughts. The more he thought about it, the more his emotions swirled in a whirlwind of joy and uncertainty. It was the first time he had ever considered the possibility of starting a family, and the thought felt... right.
Hua Cheng immediately misinterpreted the situation. Panic flashed in his eyes, and he quickly began to backtrack, his voice flustered and uncharacteristically uncertain. “It’s fine if Gege doesn’t want him!” he stammered, the edges of his usual coolness slipping. “I didn’t mean to pressure you! We can just give him to someone else to foster, there’s no need to—”
But before Xiè Lian could even respond to the misunderstanding, he quickly held up a hand to stop his husband’s panic. His heart fluttered with warmth at the sight of Hua Cheng, usually so composed and fearless, now flustered and worried about something as simple as a family decision.
“No, it’s not like that,” Xiè Lian quickly reassured him, his voice gentle and calm. He scratched his cheek awkwardly, his blush deepening as he tried to find the right words. “It’s just... well... never mind. I’d like it, I really would, if both of us could adopt him.” He looked at Hua Cheng with a shy but sincere smile.
Hua Cheng, his usual composure now replaced with an expression of both relief and joy, looked at his husband.“So, we’re doing this?” he asked, his voice soft and filled with affection, as though the idea of becoming a family, of raising this child together, was a dream come true.
Xiè Lian’s blush deepened, but there was a glow in his eyes that matched the warmth in Hua Cheng’s. “Yes,” he said quietly, but with a firmness that conveyed how much he meant it. “Together.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Hua Cheng spoke, his voice low but filled with warmth. “Then, it’s settled,” he said with a small, affectionate smile. “We’ll adopt him. Together.”
Hua Cheng couldn't hide the wide smile that spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with a rare joy as he looked at the baby now cradled in his arms. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Hua Cheng glanced down at the baby, imagining the looks on the faces of the gods when they learned of this unexpected turn of events. There would be no end to their teasing—and Hua Cheng relished the idea of having something to boast about. A small, soft chuckle escaped Hua Cheng. “I can’t wait to see their faces.”
Xiè Lian smiled at his husband's playful enthusiasm, though his heart fluttered at the thought of how much their lives would change. They left the mortal realm together, a soft glow of light trailing behind them as they returned to their home in Ghost City, to their sanctuary: Paradise Manor. As they arrived at the grand entrance of their manor, servants hurried about, preparing for their return. When the servants caught sight of the tiny bundle wrapped in the low-quality blanket that Hua Cheng held so gently in his arms, a collective gasp rippled through the room.
"Is that...?" one of the servants whispered, her voice thick with disbelief. A second servant leaned in, her eyes wide in shock.
"Is that a child?" another murmured in hushed awe. Their eyes flicked between Hua Cheng, who radiated an unspoken authority, and Xiè Lian, whose usual tranquility had softened into an expression of quiet tenderness as he looked at the baby.
The servants exchanged whispers, all of them surmising the same conclusion: this was no ordinary arrival. This baby must be a new master—an heir, or at the very least someone of great importance to the couple. They could hardly believe it.
Xiè Lian and Hua Cheng entered their sleeping chamber, the spacious room a peaceful contrast to the chaos of the outside world. The chamber was an oasis of quiet luxury, with its velvet drapes and the faint scent of incense in the air. It was here that they had shared countless nights together, and now, they would share it with their new son.
But first, they had to figure out the practicalities of their new life. Hua Cheng stood for a moment, looking down at the baby in his arms with a soft smile before turning to Xiè Lian. “Gege, I’ll go ask Yin Yu to prepare a room for the baby,” he said, his tone warm and confident. “I’ll get a nanny for him, and make sure he has everything he needs.”
Xiè Lian nodded, his hands already gently cradling the baby as he placed the small bundle onto the bed. The baby, still exhausted from the ordeal, was fast asleep, his tiny breaths steady and peaceful. For a moment, Xiè Lian simply watched the child, the weight of his decision settling into his chest like a quiet promise. As Hua Cheng left to speak with Yin Yu, Xiè Lian lingered for a moment longer, studying the baby in his care. He couldn’t help but be drawn to the infant’s features, to the delicate curve of his face, the silken dark hair scattered across his forehead. His heart swelled with a sense of protectiveness he had never felt before.
He carefully lifted the baby back into his arms, cradling him gently as he began to examine the small bundle of surprises. As he did, something caught his eye. A small, delicate bell with a purple tassel fell from the baby’s grip, rolling onto the bed with a soft clink. He continued his search and, in the baby’s tiny hand, he found a handkerchief—neatly embroidered with a name: Wei Ying.
“Wei Ying,” Xiè Lian whispered softly, a tender smile on his face as he looked down at the infant. “So, your name is Wei Ying… and your parents... belong to the Jiang Sect.” His voice trailed off as he pieced together the fragments of the baby’s past. The Jiang Sect—a famous and respected group of righteous warriors.
Hua Cheng, having spoken with Yin Yu and started the preparations, returned shortly after, his expression soft and contemplative. He saw the peaceful scene before him: Xiè Lian, sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing down at the child with such care and tenderness that it made Hua Cheng’s heart flutter unexpectedly. Without a word, Hua Cheng came to stand beside him, wrapping an arm around Xiè Lian’s shoulders in silent support. Together, they looked down at the sleeping baby—their child now. And in that moment, they both knew, deep within their hearts, that their world had irrevocably changed.
In the quiet of the chamber, baby Wei Ying slowly opened his eyes. His tiny, silver irises blinked against the dim light filtering through the curtains, his small face scrunching in confusion as his gaze shifted from one unfamiliar corner to another. The sudden realization that he was in an unfamiliar place overwhelmed him. His lips quivered, and he let out a soft sob—his voice cracking in the stillness of the room. The sound of his distress echoed through the walls, growing in pitch as the sob turned into a loud, heart-wrenching cry. His small body trembled, unable to fully understand the loss of everything familiar.
“I am sorry, little one,” Xiè Lian murmured, his voice tender with compassion. “Your mama and papa have passed on, but they sent me and my husband to take care of you now. Please don’t cry.” With a delicate touch, Xiè Lian began to pat the baby’s small, soft head, hoping to calm him.
Before he could continue, the door to the chamber burst open, and Hua Cheng stormed in, his face filled with concern. His usual calm demeanor was now laced with urgency, his steps quick and purposeful. Yin Yu followed closely behind, his posture slightly rigid as he glanced between Xiè Lian and the baby.
“Gege, what happened?” Hua Cheng asked urgently, his voice low but edged with worry. His gaze flicked from Xiè Lian to the baby in his arms, quickly assessing the situation.
“Little Wei Ying wasn’t familiar with the place, so he cried out in distress,” Xiè Lian explained softly, his hand still gently stroking the baby’s hair. He continued to hum quietly, trying to offer the child the comfort he needed. “But don’t worry, I’m trying to calm him.”
“Little Wei Ying?” Hua Cheng repeated, an eyebrow raised in mild confusion, glancing down at Yin Yu, who tilted his head curiously, silently processing the name.
“That’s the name I found on the handkerchief the baby was holding,” Xiè Lian explained with a soft smile, glancing down at Wei Ying. The name seemed to fit him somehow, even though they had only just met.
"Yin Yu," Xiè Lian asked, turning to the servant, "When will the nanny arrive? And the room we discussed?"
"Everything, including the baby’s room, will be ready in a few days, Your Majesty," Yin Yu answered, his voice calm and steady. "We’ve already begun preparations."
"Thank you, Yin Yu," Xiè Lian said with a smile. "You’ve worked hard. Please, you may go now."
Yin Yu bowed his head respectfully, then turned and left the room, leaving the couple to care for their new baby.
As the days passed, the news of the baby’s arrival spread throughout Ghost City like wildfire. Whispers filled the air, carried by the bustling servants, the traders on the streets, and even the ghosts who roamed the city’s shadowed corners. It was as though the very air trembled with the excitement of it all.
“The city has an heir now! Hahaha!” one ghost laughed loudly, his voice carrying through the alleyways.
“They say the heir has a voice that could shake the heavens. The manor even trembled when he cried!” another voice joined in, full of awe and excitement.
Rumors spread like wildfire, each one more incredulous than the last. “The servants of the manor say the heir is unbelievably handsome! They say he has silver eyes, pale porcelain skin, puffy little cheeks, and lips as red as a freshly bloomed rose. His hair is dark as ebony, too.”
In hushed, reverent tones, others spoke in awe of the baby’s lineage. “Little Wei Ying is no ordinary child. His father is the Heavenly Emperor, and his other parent...” The speaker paused, their voice lowering as if the very mention of the name could send shivers down their spine. “The other parent is Hua Cheng, our lord, the strongest being in all three realms.”
The child, Wei Ying, was no longer just a helpless infant in the eyes of the citizens; he was becoming a symbol of a new era. The whispers spoke of his future greatness, of his extraordinary lineage, and of the protection he now had from two of the most powerful beings in the realm—Xiè Lian and Hua Cheng.
A day passed, and like wildfire, the rumors about the heir of Hua Cheng and Xiè Lian spread across the Three Realms, igniting fervor and gossip at a scale that had never been seen before.The news of the Heavenly Emperor, Xiè Lian, and his husband, Hua Cheng, having an heir was the most exciting gossip the realms had seen in centuries. The birth of the heir even eclipsed all other news, even the announcements of heirs from the most prestigious sects in the Mortal Realm.
How did this gossip travel so swiftly? It was all due to a fateful encounter during the night hunts.
It began one night during a Lan sect's night hunt. The disciples, skilled and disciplined as they were, had been tasked with tracking down a group of ghosts in the dense, misty woods. But in the midst of their hunt, they overheard a conversation that made their blood run cold and their hearts race with excitement.
"Did you hear?" a thin, whispering ghost murmured to another, its voice barely audible against the wind. "The lord, Hua Chengzu, has a child with his husband."
The words seemed to hang in the air like a forbidden secret, carried on the night breeze. The disciples holding their breath behind the trees strained to hear more. They exchanged glances, their faces a mix of confusion and curiosity. The implications of such a union were beyond anything they had ever imagined. A child born of the Heavenly Emperor and Hua Cheng, the most feared ghost king in existence? It was too much to process, and yet the truth of it was undeniable.
"Hua Chengzu?" the second ghost responded, voice rising in disbelief. "You mean his husband, Xiè Lian, the Heavenly Emperor?"
The thin ghost nodded fiercely, a look of genuine awe in its dark eyes. "Yes, the very same. The child is... an heir, born of the two of them."
The disciples were so shaken by what they had overheard that they forgot all about their original task. They returned hastily to Gusu, abandoning their night hunt altogether. The urgency of the news weighed on them, and they couldn’t wait to report it to their Sect Leader Lan Qiren.
But when they relayed what they had overheard, the reaction was far from what they expected.
“Lies!” Sect Leader Lan Qiren bellowed. “You’ve been listening to gossip, not paying attention to your duty.” He was furious, clearly unimpressed by their tale. “You’ll be punished for spreading such foolishness.”
The disciples were punished, but the seed of the rumor had already been planted.
But it wasn’t just the Lan disciples who had heard this revelation. The Jiang Sect’s night hunt also uncovered the same startling information. As they stealthily observed the ghosts, the disciples once again overheard talk of the Ghost King’s heir, passing from one ghost to another like an infectious whisper.
"The child of Hua Cheng and the Heavenly Emperor… It’s true. They have an heir. It's the talk of the city," one ghost said in a hushed, reverent tone.
The disciples were shocked by the revelation, but their excitement quickly turned to confusion. They rushed to report it to their Sect Leader, but the Madam Jiang, known for her sharp temper, dismissed them with a harsh reprimand, accusing them of fabricating the story. She punished them severely, just as Sect Leader Lan Qiren had done. But the more the rumors spread, the harder it was to ignore.
One by one, the disciples from various sects, all of whom had heard these same whispers, returned to their respective leaders, only to be punished for spreading such outrageous lies. The growing mystery couldn’t be ignored. And so, a council of the greatest sects in the Mortal Realm convened, each of them determined to get to the bottom of this rumor. After much deliberation, they decided to capture one of the ghosts they had been tracking for weeks in order to interrogate it. They managed to subdue one, and under the threat of force, the ghost finally admitted that the child Wei Ying existed, and that it was no mere coincidence that the child had been born to Hua Cheng and Xiè Lian.
The Great Major Sects were now convinced—the child was real, and his presence would be felt in the mortal realm, for better or for worse. The ghost even spoke of the child being a symbol of good luck, a beacon of hope that might bring salvation to the mortal realm in times of calamity—or, depending on the situation, a harbinger of tragedy that could only be averted through the child’s intervention.
As the news spread throughout the mortal realm, it wasn’t long before it reached the ears of Heaven. Some of the heavenly officials had traveled to Ghost City on business and had overheard the same rumors from the citizens and lesser officials.
Among those who overheard were Feng Xin and Mu Qing, two devoted and reliable followers of the Heavenly Emperor. Both men had served Xiè Lian for years and trusted him implicitly, but the rumors about the child were too much to ignore. They decided to investigate, determined to get to the bottom of the matter. They attempted to enter Paradise Manor, but were quickly turned away at the gates by Hua Cheng’s guards. Hua Cheng had clearly sealed off the Manor.
Frustrated, the two of them turned to an old friend—He Xuan, another Ghost King who was loyal to Hua Cheng. Perhaps He Xuan could shed some light on the situation. Yet when they asked him about the heir, He Xuan seemed just as clueless as they were, stating that he knew nothing about it.
Feng Xin was pacing back and forth, growing more frustrated by the minute. He had been trying to uncover the truth behind the mysterious child, but nothing was progressing. Finally, he threw up his hands, his voice rising in exasperation “I fucking give up!” he yelled, his anger reverberating through the air.
Mu Qing, ever the calm and collected one, raised an eyebrow at his friend's outburst, though he couldn’t entirely blame him. He sighed softly, though his frustration mirrored his friend's. “How about we go to Xianle Palace? His Highness is usually there,” he suggested, trying to offer a solution.
Feng Xin didn’t need more convincing. “Fine. Let’s go.” His voice was still tight, but the suggestion sparked a new determination in him. They needed answers, and they were going to get them, no matter what.
Upon reaching the massive, ornate doors of the palace, they wasted no time. Without hesitation, Feng Xin marched up to the grand doors and slammed his fists against them, the heavy sound reverberating through the air. The officials passing by paused and stared, drawn to the unexpected commotion.
Moments later, the heavy palace door swung open with a soft creak. But before they could step inside, a burst of silver butterflies poured out, swirling around them in a glittering cloud.Their wings shimmered in the sunlight as they swirled around, blocking the two officials' vision entirely. It was a spectacle both mesmerizing and slightly disorienting. As the last of the butterflies fluttered away, the fog of confusion cleared, and standing before them in the doorway was Hua Cheng, holding a small child in his arms, his red robes and white attire blending together in a contrast that made him and Xiè Lian appear as divine figures. both of them standing together, with a tiny bundle cradled carefully in Hua Cheng's arms. The child, wrapped in soft, understated fabric, looked peaceful despite the sudden chaos.
Feng Xin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Your Highness, what is the meaning of this?!” he called out, pointing an accusatory finger at the baby in Hua Cheng's arms, his voice thick with confusion and anger. "Who is this child?"
With a calm demeanor, Xiè Lian smiled softly and explained, “Me and San Lang decided to adopt this child. We were planning to introduce him tomorrow to the officials, but I suppose the news travels faster than we expected.
Mu Qing’s brow furrowed. “Why did you adopt him?”
Xiè Lian’s eyes softened as he glanced down at the baby in Hua Cheng’s arms. "A prayer reached out to me. The parents asked for my help to protect and care for the child. When we found him, we couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him to someone else. So we took him in."
Feng Xin and Mu Qing exchanged glances. The story didn’t sit well with them, though they couldn’t deny the sincerity in Xiè Lian’s voice. At that moment, Hua Cheng spoke up, a smile playing at his lips as he shifted the child carefully in his arms. "Gege, I think we should introduce him to the officials today," he suggested, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
Xiè Lian glanced up, as if considering the suggestion, but then shook his head gently. “I have a meeting later with the officials. We’ll introduce him then. But for now, Mu Qing and Feng Xin, come inside.” He gestured toward the grand doors, ushering them into the palace with a welcoming smile.
Once inside the luxurious palace, the group settled around a polished wooden table in the main hall, the rich scent of freshly brewed green tea wafting in the air. They each took their first sip, savoring the warmth of the tea as they sat in quiet contemplation.
Mu Qing, breaking the silence that had settled over them, turned to Xiè Lian with a raised eyebrow. “A while ago, you said that you adopted the baby because his parents asked you to. Are you sure you won’t have second thoughts?”
Xiè Lian looked up at Mu Qing, the sincerity in his gaze unwavering. “No second thoughts,” he said firmly, the softness of his voice replaced by the steel of determination. “This was a decision we wanted. I am sure of it.”
Feng Xin, still digesting the revelation, turned to Hua Cheng, his skepticism apparent. “What’s its name?” he asked, trying to wrap his head around the whole situation.
“Wei Ying,” Hua Cheng answered quickly, though there was an unmistakable tone of pride in his voice. “And it’s a ‘he,’ not an ‘it.’ Get it right.”
Feng Xin’s face reddened in indignation, his mouth opening in protest. “YOU—!” he exclaimed, his voice rising, his temper flaring once again.
Xiè Lian quickly raised a hand, his voice soft but urgent. “Calm down, Feng Xin. Calm down.” He turned to Hua Cheng with a sheepish look, but the warmth in his eyes was undeniable.
Feng Xin huffed, but his anger was tempered by Xiè Lian’s calming presence. He shot a glance at the baby, who seemed completely unaware of the tension in the room, peacefully nestled in Hua Cheng’s arms.
Mu Qing remained quiet, his gaze still thoughtful as he observed the exchange. The rumors that had begun as whispers had now manifested before their eyes, but the questions they had about the child—and about Hua Cheng and Xiè Lian’s decision to adopt him—remained. What did this truly mean for the Three Realms, and what future awaited this child, Wei Ying?
As the hours slipped by, Xiè Lian’s nerves only grew sharper. The time had come to formally introduce Wei Ying to the Heavenly Court officials, and his heartbeat with a mix of pride and apprehension. Xie Lian sat upon his throne, hands lightly gripping the armrests as he waited for everyone to settle. As the officials gathered, murmuring and adjusting their seats, the doors opened, and Hua Cheng entered the grand hall, carrying little Wei Ying carefully in his arms.
The sight of Hua Cheng, the Ghost King, carrying a baby stunned the entire assembly. As the room fell into a respectful silence, the meeting began. In the center of the hall, Hua Cheng paced around the throne, cradling Wei Ying in his arms. There was a chorus of gasps and quiet whispers among the heavenly officials, their expressions a mix of curiosity and surprise. With a nod, Hua Cheng passed Wei Ying carefully to Xiè Lian, who held the child with a blend of pride and nervousness.
Xiè Lian rose from his throne and took Wei Ying from Hua Cheng’s arms, lifting the baby so all could see. His voice, though a little shaky, was full of pride and affection as he declared, “I present to you all, a child that my husband and I have chosen to care for and raise as our own. Our son, A-Ying.”
A profound silence settled over the officials as they looked upon the child in Xiè Lian’s arms. Doubts flickered in Xiè Lian’s heart as he wondered whether they would truly accept the child.Wei Ying, oblivious to the tension, gazed at the gathered officials with innocent curiosity and let out an excited babble, his round eyes bright. The silence didn’t last long. The child’s cheerful sounds broke the stillness, and then, to Xiè Lian’s surprise, the officials melted.
Shi Qingxuan, the lively Wind Master, let out an audible squeal, unable to contain her excitement. “Kyah! He is so adorable!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands with wide, delighted eyes.
The hall quickly filled with admiring voices, as one after another, the officials joined Shi Qingxuan’s chorus of adoration.
“Look at his eyes,” one official murmured with awe. “They’re silver, like the edge of a blade!”
“His smile is brighter than the morning sun,” another said, nodding emphatically.
“And those cheeks!” one of the older officials chuckled. “So round and full! His skin, so smooth and pale—he’s like a little porcelain doll.”
There was no denying that Wei Ying had already won them over with his charm. Xiè Lian sighed in relief, his tension melting away at the sight of his fellow officials fawning over his son. Little Wei Ying responded to the attention with happy giggles and playful waves, as though he understood he was the center of their admiration.
Five years had passed, and Wei Ying—now officially registered as Hua Ying—had become quite the force to be reckoned with. His true name, Wei Ying, was reserved only for the mortal realm, while in Heaven and Ghost City, he held the prestigious title of Huáng tàizǐ (Crown Prince), the first Prince of both realms. His life was filled with luxury, but it also came with a streak of mischief that made him infamous throughout Ghost City.
Wei Ying had become something of a terror in Ghost City, known for his spontaneous pranks and chaotic adventures. Whether it was playing tricks on unsuspecting gods, mischievous spirits, or the occasional unlucky cultivator who wandered too close to the city, he never hesitated to liven up the atmosphere with his boundless energy and a repertoire of harmless tricks. He darted around with boundless energy, laughing as he set his pranks in motion and holding conversations with multiple people at once, never losing track of a single topic. His antics filled Ghost City with laughter, and sometimes exasperation, as everyone tried to keep up with him.
This particular day was no different. Wei Ying, in his usual spirited fashion, had just pulled off one of his pranks and was laughing uncontrollably as he sprinted away from his latest victim. His tiny feet echoed on the stone streets of Paradise Manor as he made his way towards his parents' study room, his mischievous giggles carrying through the halls.
Without knocking, he threw the door open with an exuberant crash. "A-Niang! A-die!" Wei Ying's voice rang out, startling Xiè Lian, who had been deeply engrossed in his work. His face was full of surprise, but it quickly softened as he registered his son's question. "Do I have grandparents?"
Xiè Lian, taken aback by the sudden question, blinked in surprise before smiling warmly. “Yes, you have grandparents, A-Ying.”
Hua Ying’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Really? Can we go meet them?”
Xiè Lian chuckled, charmed by his son’s enthusiasm. “Of course, why not? It has been a long time since we visited them. Let’s go today.”
Wei Ying didn’t need any further prompting. He bolted out of the study, his feet barely touching the ground as he raced to his room to prepare. As he disappeared from view, Xiè Lian sighed, shaking his head fondly. “How does he have so much energy?” he murmured to himself, setting aside the scrolls he had been working on.
Hua Cheng, who had been sitting nearby, looked up from his work with a knowing smirk. "I don’t know, gege," he said, standing up. "It’s as if no one can keep up with his energy—not even us, gods and ghosts alike."
The couple made their way to the entrance of their manor, where Wei Ying was already bouncing up and down with excitement, his little feet barely staying still for a moment. Hua Cheng sighed, rolling the dice he always carried with him to make their travel more efficient, a quick flick of his wrist opening a portal to the mountain.
"A-Ying, calm down," Xiè Lian called, as he adjusted Wei Ying’s robes, trying to make sure everything was in place. "When we get there, you must greet them properly. Call them waipo and waigong."
Wei Ying, too busy bouncing with joy to stop, nodded eagerly. "Okay! Okay! Waipo! Waigong!" he repeated, as though trying to memorize the new names, his voice filled with anticipation.
Wei Ying nodded furiously, already bouncing back and forth in anticipation. “Okay, okay! I can’t wait!”
With that, the trio stepped through the doorway, and the world around them blurred in a rush of color as they teleported. The feeling of weightlessness lasted only a moment before they arrived at a remote mountain, its towering peaks draped in mist. A strong, almost tangible resentment hung in the air, an aura that was well-maintained and carefully controlled, a sign that the place had been steeped in power for centuries.
Hua Ying’s brows furrowed as he looked around at the ominous yet strangely serene surroundings. “Waipo and Waigong live here?” he asked, tilting his head.
“Yes, this is their home,” Hua Cheng confirmed with a small smile.
Wei Ying’s gaze shifted, his excitement undeterred by the somber atmosphere of the mountain. “Wow, this place looks so different from the manor!” he exclaimed
Xiè Lian nodded reassuringly. “They chose this place a long time ago, and they’re happy here.”
The small family made their way through the winding path that led to an old, yet well-maintained house, nestled at the foot of the mountains. The house stood humble but sturdy, with a large front yard filled with vibrant wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. The scent of the earth and the fresh air filled their lungs as they approached the wooden door.
Xiè Lian and Hua Cheng approached the door and knocked politely. The door creaked open to reveal a towering figure. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a deep, booming voice greeted them warmly. "Welcome, Xianle and Crimson Rain. Who is the little one?" he asked, his sharp gaze quickly falling to Wei Ying.
"I think it’s better if we were inside," Xiè Lian said, smiling politely as he gestured for them to enter.
The tall man stepped aside, allowing them to enter the cozy house. Inside, the atmosphere was calm and inviting, with a faint scent of tea and incense hanging in the air. A soft fire crackled in the hearth, and a man and a woman sat at a low table, quietly playing cards and sipping tea. Their quiet chatter filled the room.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” the man said, his voice warm and respectful, though his attention remained on his cards. His features were delicate but strong, his posture calm, a stark contrast to the excitement buzzing in the air from their arrival.
“Good morning, Guoshi and Immortal Baoshan Sanren,” Xiè Lian bowed gracefully, his tone respectful but filled with warmth.
The woman, who had been quiet, glanced up with a smile and nodded. “Morning, Your Highness,” she greeted in a gentle voice, her eyes soft and knowing, as if she had long been aware of their arrival.
Wei Ying, filled with childlike curiosity, tugged at Xiè Lian's sleeve and looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "A-Niang, which one is my waipo and waigong?"
Xiè Lian smiled warmly down at his son, taking his small hand gently. He pointed toward the tall man first. "The tall, large man is your waigong and his name is Jun Wu." Then, he gestured toward the man at the table, still holding his cards. "The man who’s playing is your waipo, and his name is Mei Nianqing. And the woman over there is your waipo as well, her name is Baoshan Sanren."
Wei Ying’s eyes shone with intrigue as he tilted his head, his small hands clasped behind his back. He turned back to Xiè Lian, eyes wide. “Waipo Sanren looks just like me,” he said, his voice filled with wonder.
Xiè Lian chuckled softly, a tender warmth in his voice. “That’s right. Because she’s your biological waipo. She’s your mother’s mother.”
Baoshan Sanren, still smiling, raised an eyebrow at Xiè Lian’s words, her delicate hand lifting her teacup to her lips. “Are you sure, Your Highness?” she asked, a slight tremor of disbelief in her voice.
“Yes,” Xiè Lian confirmed. “You have a daughter named Cangse Sanren, don’t you?”
Baoshan Sanren’s face seemed to pale, her hand shaking slightly as she lowered her cup. "That is correct. She left the mountain and went to the mortal realm."
At the mention of Cangse Sanren, Hua Cheng stood beside Xiè Lian, his usual calm demeanor turning somber. "When I went to inspect his parents, I saw a girl who looked just like you. She was with a Jiang disciple."
A heavy silence settled over the room. Baoshan Sanren's face paled as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. Her hand trembled as she set her teacup down, her voice barely above a whisper. “So... my daughter is dead?”
The room fell silent. Even Wei Ying, who had been bouncing in place a moment before, seemed to sense the somber atmosphere. His small face grew serious, and his silver eyes flickered between the adults, unsure of what had just been said. Xiè Lian placed a gentle hand on Baoshan Sanren’s shoulder, his expression softening with compassion, but there were no words to say. In that quiet, fragile moment, Baoshan Sanren’s face softened as tears welled up in her eyes. She placed the cup down carefully, her hands trembling as if trying to hold on to something that had been lost forever.
The silence lingered in the air like an unwelcome guest, heavy with the weight of grief and unresolved emotions. But then, Wei Ying broke the stillness, his small hand reaching out to gently pat Baoshan Sanren’s trembling fingers. His touch was soft, his innocent voice filled with compassion far beyond his years. "Don’t cry, Waipo," he said soothingly, his silver eyes wide with sincerity. "Mama is in a better place now with papa."
Baoshan Sanren stared at Wei Ying, her gaze lingering on him as if seeing something familiar, something long lost. "You look like her," she murmured softly, the words heavy with grief and recognition.
Xiè Lian, sensing the delicate moment, quietly asked, "Immortal Baoshan Sanren, since you are his last surviving family, what do you plan on doing?"
The immortal sighed deeply, wiping her eyes as she straightened her posture. "I will not be doing anything," she replied. "Since Cangse left him with you, you will be the one to care for him. I will just assist from the sidelines."
The adults continued their conversation, discussing matters of the mortal world, the passing hours fading unnoticed as the room was filled with the sound of tea being poured and gentle laughter. Wei Ying, exhausted from the emotional weight of the day, drifted into a peaceful nap, curled up in a soft chair. The evening light dimmed as the conversation shifted to more personal matters, and before long, Hua Cheng was the one to gently pick up Wei Ying, who still slept soundly in his arms, and carried him back to their home.
When Wei Ying finally awoke, he found himself in a completely different place. The wooden walls of the small house had been replaced by lacquered wood panels, trimmed with intricate gold patterns and black jade that gleamed in the soft light. Rubbing his eyes, he hopped out of bed and rushed to find his parents. But as he stepped outside his room, he collided with someone—or rather, several someones. Wei Ying looked up in surprise to see a group of servants standing just outside his door. Six of them in total, four young women and two older men, all waiting for him to wake up.
“Huáng tàizǐ,” one of the girls called, smiling brightly, “you’re up! Let’s get you dressed for the day.”
Wei Ying blinked, trying to make sense of everything. “Luoyang, what time is it? And what’s happening?” His voice was still a bit groggy from sleep, but his curiosity was quickly taking over.
"It’s already dawn," she replied, her voice calm yet hurried. "You’ll be meeting with the noble children today. Let’s get you ready, Huáng tàizǐ."
"Dawn?!" Wei Ying exclaimed, sitting up straighter. "But I was at Waipo and Waigong’s house last night. How did I get here?"
"The lord carried you here, Huáng tàizǐ," the nanny said kindly, but with a hint of urgency. "Please, stop asking questions and get in the bath. You cannot be late for your meeting with the noble children."
Wei Ying nodded, though his mind was still trying to piece together the strange transition from one place to the other. He obeyed the nanny and walked toward the bath, where two maids were already waiting for him, ready to help him prepare. It took an hour to bathe, an hour more to dress in his formal black robes embroidered with gold patterns, and another ten minutes to quickly eat a small breakfast.
Finally, when everything was ready, Wei Ying rushed out of his room, eager to see his parents and the new friends he would meet. He spotted Hua Cheng in the garden, speaking to several adults. Without a second thought, Wei Ying rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Hua Cheng’s legs, startling the towering man.
"A-Ying!" Hua Cheng laughed, though his tone was a little reprimanding. "You can’t just run up to people like that. They might mistake you for a little creature trying to grab hold of their legs."
Wei Ying looked up at him with a sheepish smile. "I’m sorry, A-die. Who are they?"
"They are the parents of your new playmates," Hua Cheng explained, his tone softening as he placed a hand on Wei Ying’s head.
"Am I getting friends?" Wei Ying asked excitedly, his voice full of wonder.
"Yes," Hua Cheng answered with a smile. "Now, behave yourself."
The adults, some of them nobles from influential families, smiled warmly at Wei Ying. "Good morning, Huáng tàizǐ," they greeted in unison.
"Morning to you all too! I am Hua Ying!" Wei Ying exclaimed, grinning brightly.
The adults introduced themselves one by one, offering their greetings and compliments. Wei Ying was eager to meet their children, his excitement growing with each new introduction.
“A-die, when will I meet with their children?” Wei Ying tilted his head, his curiosity piqued.
“You can go see them now,” Hua Cheng said with a smile. “They’re in the other garden.”
"Okay!" Wei Ying squealed, his voice full of excitement as he ran off toward the other garden, his small feet kicking up the earth in his wake, eager to meet the other children and make new friends.
As Wei Ying made his way toward the other garden, his excitement radiating, he was suddenly interrupted by a hasty rush of footsteps behind him. He turned to see Luoyang, his nanny, and five other winded maids running toward him, clearly in a hurry. Their silk robes swayed with their hurried steps, and their breath came in quick, shallow bursts as they reached him.
"Huáng tàizǐ, where did you go?" Luoyang asked, her voice laced with both relief and slight reproach.
Wei Ying, with his usual unbothered cheer, simply smiled up at her. "I was with A-die," he answered casually, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
Luoyang, now more curious than worried, caught her breath and asked, "Where are you going right now?"
"To the other garden to meet with the other kids!" Wei Ying replied, excitement bubbling in his voice as he glanced back at the group of servants, eager to continue his journey.
With his nanny and the winded maids following closely behind, Wei Ying continued toward the garden. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, golden rays over the estate, creating a warm glow on the lush greenery around them.
As they reached the other garden, Wei Ying's eyes widened at the sight before him. The once serene space, with its carefully manicured plants and tranquil pond, had become a chaotic playground for a group of children. Some were running between the flowerbeds, trampling on the delicate petals, others were drinking tea from porcelain cups, pretending to be adults, and a few were even playing near the pond, their laughter filling the air. The garden, which was meant to be a peaceful haven, had transformed into a makeshift play area, vibrant with the energy of youth.
Before Wei Ying could process the scene, he saw one of the children, a boy with messy hair, slip dangerously near the edge of the pond. With a blur of motion, Wei Ying reacted faster than anyone could follow, leaping forward and catching the boy by the arm, yanking him back just in time to save him from falling into the water.
"Huáng tàizǐ! Are you alright?" Luoyang cried out in alarm, rushing forward with the maids to make sure Wei Ying was unharmed. The children, frozen in place, stared in awe, their eyes wide as they watched the exchange.
"I’m alright," Wei Ying said, brushing himself off with a carefree smile, not the least bit shaken. "But what about you? Are you alright?" He turned his attention to the boy he had saved, his gaze gentle and curious.
The boy, still startled, blinked up at him. "I... I'm alright, Diànxià. Thank you for saving me," he stammered nervously, his face flushed with both gratitude and embarrassment
With a warm smile, Wei Ying introduced himself. "I’m Hua Ying. What’s your name?"
The boy looked at him with wide eyes before quickly replying, "My name is Zhou Jiayi. My father is Zhōu hóu(Marquis Zhou). Diànxià!" he added nervously, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to maintain his composure in front of the crown prince.
"I already met everyone's parents. There's no need for you to tell me who your parent is," Wei Ying said with a cheeky grin, making the other children laugh with his playful tone
The other children, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, slowly began to gather around him, eager to introduce themselves. One by one, they called out their names, each voice carrying its own distinct sound.
"I am Han Qiqiang!" a squeaky voice rang out
.
"I’m Cai Wuying," said another, his tone soft and gentle.
"Liang Xuefeng!" a rowdy voice shouted, full of energy.
"Greetings, I am Yang Zhihao," said a calm voice, carrying a sense of quiet dignity.
"I am Zhou Xinyue," another boy spoke up, his voice warm as he patted the shoulder of Zhou Jiayi. "My younger brother is Zhou Jiayi."
"Diànxià, I am Yang Guiying," a soft voice said, giggling lightly as she curtsied, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"I’m Liang Yaling, Diànxià!" A sweet, melodic voice spoke next, her tone carrying a gentle lilt.
"I’m... I’m Wan Zhenya," a shy, stuttering girl said, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"I’m Han Lingxin, Diànxià," a gentle voice added, and the girl clung onto Wei Ying's arm, her touch soft and affectionate.
Wei Ying beamed at the group. "You all have nice names!" he complimented them, his face lighting up with genuine joy.
The children’s faces flushed with pride at the praise, and the conversation continued with growing energy.
"Tàizǐ, what do you like to do?" Liang Xuefeng asked, his curiosity piqued.
"I like to read, draw, do calligraphy, play pranks, and drink tea," Wei Ying replied, his eyes twinkling as he listed off his favorite activities.
"I like to draw and read too," Yang Zhihao said enthusiastically, his voice full of eagerness. "We have something in common, Diànxià!"
"Diànxià has such refined tastes. It’s perfect for a Crown Prince," Han Lingxin giggled, clearly impressed.
"Han Guniang, you praise me too much," Wei Ying said, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he waved off the compliment, his playful nature making everyone laugh.
Laughter bubbled up among the group, and the new friends seemed to instantly bond, their personalities meshing in the lively atmosphere. Wei Ying beamed at them all, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of playing with his new friends.
As Hua Cheng stood with his arms folded, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his son, Wei Ying, glowing with excitement as he chattered about his day. “How was it?” he asked, his voice warm and steady.
"It was so fun!" Wei Ying said, practically bouncing with excitement. "Liang Gongzi is going to learn how to wield a sword. I want to learn too!"
Hua Cheng smiled, amused by his son’s enthusiasm. “We’ll have to ask your A-Niang about it first,” he said.
As if on cue, a familiar, gentle voice drifted over. “Ask me about what?”
“A-Niang!” Wei Ying cried out, immediately racing toward Xiè Lian and throwing himself into his A-Niang’s arms.
Amused, Xiè Lian looked up at Hua Cheng, who was smiling patiently. “San Lang?” he prompted, waiting for the explanation.
“A-Ying wants to learn to wield a sword—and perhaps cultivate, too,” Hua Cheng answered with a touch of pride.
Wei Ying tilted his head in curiosity. "What’s cultivate?" he asked, his small brows furrowing in thought.
Xie Lian knelt down to his son’s level, meeting his gaze as he explained, “There are many reasons to cultivate, and many ways to do it. I cultivated to become a god, while your A-die cultivated to become a Ghost King. And your Baoshan Waipo cultivated to become immortal.”
Wei Ying’s eyes widened, his excitement bubbling over as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “I want to cultivate too! I want to be like you, A-Niang, like my A-Yis, and my juijuis up in heaven!”
Xie Lian shared a smile with Hua Cheng, who simply shrugged as if to say, How can we stop him?
Xiè Lian chuckled and placed a steadying hand on his son’s shoulder. “Slow down, A-Ying. First, we’ll need to talk to Waipo and Waigong about it.”
Wei Ying’s enthusiasm was unwavering. “Let’s go ask them now! We still have the whole afternoon!” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed his parents’ hands and eagerly pulled them towards the nearest door, the excitement radiating off him as he tried to hurry them along.
Hua Cheng and Xiè Lian exchanged an amused look, sharing a smile at their son’s boundless energy. Resigned yet amused, Hua Cheng took out his enchanted dice, rolling it in his palm before tossing it. As soon as it clattered to the ground, Wei Ying sprang forward and flung open the door. Recognizing the familiar forest beyond, he squealed with joy and took off, darting ahead as fast as his legs could carry him.
As they made their way through the forest and finally approached the small, secluded house of Jun Wu and Mei Nianqing, Hua Cheng and Xiè Lian spotted Baoshan Sanren cradling Wei Ying in her arms, her serene face softened with a rare smile. Wei Ying had his arms looped around her neck, his head resting against her shoulder, clearly thrilled to be with his Waipo.
As he burst into the clearing, he called out eagerly, “Waipo! Waigong!”
Baoshan Sanren raised an eyebrow as she caught sight of the familiar figures entering the yard. Her voice was steady yet laced with curiosity as she asked, “What are you doing here, Your Majesty?”
Xiè Lian, a little nervous yet resolute, asked, “Is the Lord and Guóshī here?”
“They are,” Baoshan Sanren answered, her gaze softening slightly. “They went to get tea and snacks because A-Ying was here.” She glanced down at Wei Ying, who was in her arms, happily playing with a small bundle of herbs that she had set aside for the garden.
Just as she spoke, the door opened, and out stepped Jun Wu and Mei Nianqing, both carrying trays filled with fragrant tea and neatly arranged snacks. The sight of the simple, yet comforting gesture brought a sense of calm to Xie Lian’s troubled heart.
Jun Wu’s gaze swept over them, his expression as stoic as ever, but his voice warm with familiarity. “Xianle, what do you need?” he asked, his steady presence filling the space around them.
Xiè Lian exhaled a shaky breath, steadying himself as he moved closer. “A-Ying wants to wield a sword and cultivate to godhood.” His tone betrayed the uncertainty he felt, even as his heart swelled with pride for his son’s ambitious spirit. “I fear my method would not suit him.”
Mei Nianqing’s voice was gentle but firm as he replied, “Of course, we would help little Wei Ying, even though he is a bit too young to start on such a path.”
Jun Wu nodded thoughtfully, his long fingers brushing against the rim of his teacup. "A child of his spirit will ascend eventually," he murmured, his voice like the quiet hum of a distant storm. "It might take longer than expected, but he will rise. We can guide him, little by little."
The conversation flowed into more practical matters, as the group discussed the best way to support Wei Ying in his cultivation journey. As the discussions unfolded, it became clear that Wei Ying would need more than just basic cultivation techniques. He would need a well-rounded education to prepare him for the challenges ahead.
"The other things, too," Mei Nianqing mused. "Music, rites, numeracy, writing… He’ll need to know them all if he’s to take his place among the gods."
As the planning continued, roles began to form. Shi Qingxuan would take responsibility for music and rites, instilling a sense of harmony in the boy’s heart. Ling Wen would teach him numeracy and the intricacies of writing—skills that were vital to both mortal and divine life. Mu Qing, the ever-disciplined warrior, would be the one to train Wei Ying in the arts of weaponry, ensuring the young prince could defend himself should the need arise. Feng Xin would teach him archery, a skill that would further shape his mind and body into one capable of great power. And Pei Ming—though it seemed a strange match—would be tasked with instructing Wei Ying in the art of flirtation, knowing full well that charm and diplomacy were often as powerful as any weapon.
But perhaps the most significant of all would be the teachings of the dark arts. Jun Wu, He Xuan, Hua Cheng, and Yin Yu would teach Wei Ying how to wield them properly, for godhood was not solely about light, but the understanding of resentful energy and the balance between both, divine energy, and resentful energy.
It would take decades, perhaps even centuries, for someone to ascend to godhood. Much to everyone’s surprise, it only took Wei Ying three years. The path to godhood, it seemed, was no ordinary journey for him. With the combined efforts of his Waipos, Waigong, A-Yis, and jiujius, all offering their wisdom and guidance, the young prince thrived. His determination and natural abilities propelled him forward at an alarming rate.
Each day was a new lesson. Every moment is a new challenge. He learned to wield a sword with grace, the blade singing through the air with a precision that belied his youth. He practiced the intricate rituals of cultivation, his body and mind beginning to sync with the energies of the universe. Under Shi Qingxuan’s tutelage, he became fluent in music, his voice becoming an instrument of power and peace alike. Under Ling Wen’s watchful eye, his hand became steady in writing, each stroke a testament to his growth. Mu Qing’s lessons in weaponry taught him not only how to fight but when to fight, and Pei Ming's playful teachings in charm allowed Wei Ying to navigate both social and political intricacies with ease. Under Feng Xin’s wing, it helped him perfect the art of archery.
But it was in the dark arts that Wei Ying truly flourished. The teachings of Jun Wu, He Xuan, Hua Cheng, and Yin Yu became an interesting lesson—one where he learned not just to wield shadows but to understand them, to use them as tools, not just for destruction but for creation.
In three short years, Wei Ying’s transformation was astonishing. The boy who had once been full of unbridled energy, always running from one thing to the next, had become a focused young prince, ready to take on the world. His power surged within him, and with each passing day, it became clear that he was destined for something extraordinary.