Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter 44: The Identity of the Ghost Face

Seven years ago, the Northern Courtyard welcomed a young sword disciple with dual spiritual roots. Xue Ziyi placed great hopes in him, mobilizing all available resources to aid his cultivation.

The young disciple with dual roots was exceptionally gifted. Within half a year, he advanced to the mid-stage of Qi Refining, reaching the fourth layer. Xue Ziyi was elated at the time. At last, she had found a genius junior, and she believed the rise of the Northern Courtyard was within reach.

Yet, during the Sword Child Contest that year, the junior upon whom Xue Ziyi had pinned her hopes was defeated by a disciple from the Western Courtyard, Qian Yuxiu’s junior. He suffered devastating injuries; his meridians were destroyed. Even after his wounds healed, he could never cultivate again, losing his identity as a cultivator forever.

He had a chance to survive, but his heart was too troubled. Unable to swallow his humiliation, he wasted away and died within three days, passing away in the great hall of the Northern Courtyard.

The Sword Child Contest is a matter of fate and life and death. Xue Ziyi could not avenge her junior; it was a tradition of the Sword Palace—if one’s skill was lacking, death was simply the result. She swore before his corpse that she would one day surpass Qian Yuxiu.

Thus, in the years since, Xue Ziyi searched tirelessly for promising disciples. Each year during the Sword Child Contest, she gambled against Qian Yuxiu, but she never won, always losing.

As for the ghostly face in the great hall—it first appeared seven years ago, not long after the dual-root disciple died. One night, as Xue Ziyi happened to pass through the hall, she witnessed strange black mist swirling within. Investigating, she discovered the presence of the ghostly face.

Xue Ziyi sealed the ghostly face in the hall with the Dust Frost Sword, her treasured artifact. She knew it was her junior’s soul, transformed into a ghost out of unwillingness and resentment.

Though it pained her, Xue Ziyi could not show mercy. Allowing a ghost to linger would be a severe blow to the Northern Courtyard’s reputation. Already sparse and fading, if rumors of haunting spread, no one would dare to come.

At the time, Xue Ziyi resolved to destroy her junior’s ghostly form completely, sacrificing personal bonds for the greater good. Yet the outcome surprised her.

No matter what method she tried, even if she struck directly with the Dust Frost Sword, the ghostly face would disperse, but reappear after a few days.

The endlessly recurring ghost became Xue Ziyi’s inescapable nightmare. In the end, with no other recourse, she laid a sealing formation and stationed herself in the hall, never daring to leave, claiming she was cultivating and forbidding outsiders from entering.

And so, for seven years, the ghostly face remained. Xue Ziyi could only delay and conceal its existence for the sake of the Northern Courtyard.

Few knew of this matter—only Ma Yong and Niu Bucai, and now Yun Que, making four in total.

Upon hearing the tale, Yun Que was filled with respect for his senior sister. Despite her reputation for recklessness, Xue Ziyi was truly chivalrous and selfless—her devotion to the Northern Courtyard would move anyone.

With respect came a question in Yun Que’s heart.

“At the time, that senior brother died at the fourth layer of Qi Refining?” Yun Que asked.

“Yes, I remember he was about to break through to the fifth,” Ma Yong recalled.

“The soul of a fourth-layer Qi Refiner shouldn’t be too powerful. Why, then, did his ghostly form prove immune even to artifacts?” Yun Que voiced his doubt.

A ghost that persisted for seven years, impossible to eradicate, hardly seemed like the remnant of a mere fourth-layer disciple.

“That is something we cannot understand either,” Niu Bucai replied, his voice bitter. “Perhaps his resentment at the time of death was overwhelming, so his ghostly form is steeped in grievance and difficult to destroy.”

Yun Que was not convinced. Knowing that the Sword Child Contest was a matter of life and death, even falling in battle should not breed such excessive resentment.

“Did that senior brother tend to curse people when alive?” Yun Que asked an odd question.

“He never cursed. He was well-read, courteous, devoted to poetry since childhood. Even in death, he uttered not a single vulgar word,” Xue Ziyi affirmed.

Yun Que frowned. That was strange. From his experience as Marquis of Coldwater, trading insults with neighbors since childhood, the ghostly face’s opening and closing mouth was clearly that of someone cursing.

Could it be that he was civilized in life, but became a cursing ghost in death?

Yun Que fell silent, pondering the oddity of the ghostly face. Xue Ziyi assumed he was reflecting on the fate of the dual-root disciple and offered comfort:

“I will handle this year’s wager with Qian Yuxiu, so you needn’t worry, little brother. If you ever lose to someone, be sure to take it in stride—a true man knows how to bend and stretch. Never judge a hero by a single moment.”

Yun Que appreciated her kindness, fearing he might follow the same path as the ill-fated disciple. He nodded, “Don’t worry, Senior Sister. I’ve been used to being cursed since childhood; I’m quite indifferent to it.”

Only then did Xue Ziyi remember her little brother’s title as Marquis of Coldwater—the shame of Great Yan. Without a strong heart, he would have died of insults a hundred times over.

With the crisis resolved, Yun Que informed Xue Ziyi of the tree demon’s appearance in Misty Mountain and took his leave.

Xue Ziyi remained busy in the great hall, unable to inquire about the return of the Sword Chief, so Yun Que decided to ask others tomorrow.

After he left, the three in the hall sighed together.

“Brother Yun is calm and quick-witted. If only he had spiritual roots,” Ma Yong lamented.

“He possesses composure far beyond his peers. When he toppled the Sword Testing Pavilion, he showed remarkable ability. What a pity he lacks spiritual roots,” Niu Bucai added regretfully.

“Fate…” Xue Ziyi sighed deeply, closing her eyes.

Such is the way of the world.

In the eyes of Xue Ziyi and the others, Yun Que was simply unlucky. Otherwise, judging by his past deeds, he might truly have achieved greatness in cultivation.

Upon entering the Sword Palace, he had beaten Thunder Root senseless, then navigated the dangers of Misty Mountain to bring his fellow disciples back safely, even securing soul stones to resolve the ghostly face’s crisis.

Such a shrewd disciple was rare indeed. The more the three thought on it, the more they felt regret, resenting the injustice of fate.

Another who felt regret was Mu Qingyao.

After hastily returning to the Mu residence, Mu Qingyao realized she was still wearing Yun Que’s clothes. Not only did the family maids notice, but her father, Mu Qingzhou, witnessed it as well.

The eldest daughter of the Mu family had returned in men’s clothing—and not even new garments. It was enough to spark wild speculation.

Soon, Mu Qingzhou learned from his daughter all that had transpired in Misty Mountain. Upon hearing of the tree demon and White Bone Mountain, the current head of the Mu family merely furrowed his brow, showing no other expression.

Yet when he heard of Yun Que’s actions, Mu Qingzhou seemed quite interested, even smiling faintly.

Except for keeping silent about the blind serpent, Mu Qingyao recounted her experiences in Misty Mountain in detail.

When she finished, father and daughter fell silent, returning to their usual estrangement.

The Mu family knew well that father and daughter rarely spoke, often going half a year or more without exchanging words—the rift was deep, although the servants dared not gossip.

Had Misty Mountain’s troubles not threatened the imperial city, Mu Qingyao would not have bothered to return home and report.

“What do you think of Yun Que?” Mu Qingzhou asked, offering no comment on Misty Mountain, instead inquiring about something seemingly trivial.

Mu Qingyao was taken aback, then recalled Yun Que’s unrestrained gaze within the Flower Spirit Sword. She bit her lip in annoyance and replied, “As annoying as ever, just like when we were children.”

Mu Qingzhou was unsurprised. He glanced at the neatly folded men’s clothes by his daughter’s bedside and asked, “Yun Que’s?”

Mu Qingyao wanted to explain, opened her mouth but found no words, finally replying with an annoyed hum.

Mu Qingzhou nodded, then stepped out of his daughter’s chamber.

Reaching the front hall, he instructed the elderly steward at his side, “Send word to every branch of the Mu family. Tomorrow, I have an important announcement. All elders must attend—any who do not will bear the consequences.”

The steward immediately set about gathering people and sending the message.

“One more thing,” Mu Qingzhou added after a long pause, as if coming to a momentous decision. “Tomorrow morning, you will go personally to the Sword Palace and invite Yun Que here.”