After He Becomes the Emperor

I drifted in midair, watching crimson silk hang upon the vermilion walls of the Emperor of North Territory's residence. Though the place of my heart no longer existed, a hollow ache still echoed within. Today is the day of Jim Shaw's grand wedding. He is marrying the daughter of the preceptor, Yale Scott—Yolanda Scott. At the appointed auspicious hour, the wedding drums and music had not yet ceased. Suddenly, Yolanda Scott clutched her chest and spat a mouthful of fresh blood onto her bright red bridal gown. The imperial physicians hurried about, taking her pulse repeatedly for half an hour, yet could not discern the cause. Finally, the preceptor Yale Scott knelt trembling and declared that I had placed a curse upon the new Empress. "Cindy Lynn is the divine princess of the Lynn family, possessed of Dark Sorcery!" "If she is not summoned back to lift the curse, the Empress will not survive beyond three days!" Jim Shaw's face darkened instantly, a violent fury nearly bursting from his eyes. He gripped the sword at his waist, his voice cold as ice: "Send men to the Lynn family; bring Cindy Lynn back to me!" Yet those sent spent a whole day among the Lynn family and did not see even a shadow of mine. Jim Shaw's anger flared, believing I was a guilty thief, hiding from him. Three days later, thirty thousand elite soldiers from the North Territory shattered the Lynn family's barrier. The thunder of hooves shook the earth beneath me as I floated atop the Lynn family's city tower, my eyes suddenly stinging as I gazed upon the very army I once helped train. They have come to slaughter my people. All because of a single 'curse' uttered by Yolanda Scott. 'Cindy Lynn! Show yourself at once!' Jim Shaw's voice carried through the flames, suffused with an unyielding authority. I watched him clad in dark armor, standing before my family's gate like a grim reaper sent to claim souls. The Lynn family had long since been grievously weakened by Yolanda's machinations. Last year, she used the pretext that "the Lynn family's secret arts are ill-omened" to steal half of our Spirit Crystals. Now, with war raging anew, it only adds insult to injury. "I understand your grievances." He paused, his tone softening somewhat, yet his words cut like a blade: "I aided you in capturing the Realm of the North Territory, yet did not grant you the title of Empress. Is that not but a mere name? My love is yours alone; are you still not satisfied?" I drifted before him, intent on seizing his collar to question him. Have you forgotten who saved your life with divine blood when the Crown Prince hunted you? Have you forgotten who endured the harsh, cold rations with you in the Military Camp, helping you uncover the enemy's ambush? But my hand passed right through his body. I suddenly recalled—I am already dead. Dead for a full three years. It was Yolanda Scott who killed me. She employed the Lynn family's forbidden art to lock my spiritual power, then pierced my divine blood veins with silver needles, draining my spiritual power bit by bit. In the end, she cast the "Soul Locking Spell," condemning my soul to inability to reincarnate, doomed to wander as a homeless, lost spirit. Bang! The wooden door of my home was shattered open by soldiers' kicks. The stench of blood mingled with the acrid scent of burning grass and wood, drifting through the door's crack, choking me into coughing—though I now have no throat at all. Jim Shaw stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the room's scant furnishings. This room remained as I had once tidied it with Grandma in my childhood; one leg of the wooden table was broken and supported by a stone; The Lynn family totem hung on the wall—the very one I embroidered at ten years old—its edges now brittle with age. "Did I not send five thousand taels of gold for you to renovate this place?" He frowned, suspicion thickening his tone: "How can it still be in such a ruinous state? Are you feigning wretchedness to garner my pity?" I gazed at him and, in that moment, found the notion strangely amusing. Those gold reserves were long ago seized by Yolanda Scott last year under the pretext of "royal requisition." He never once questioned me; he simply believed Yolanda Scott's words.