Chapter Text
The Martial God's Ghost-Saving System
Chapter 1
To kill a ghost meant to destroy its remains. Because things that are already dead can’t die again. The logic was about as simple as something could get. All that anchored a ghost to the mortal realm were its ashes. Lang Qianqiu knew this—everyone knew this. And it seemed plenty straightforward, so why now was the task so cumbersome?
Lang Qianqiu held the deceptive ornament in his hands curiously—it was an ornate silver hairpin embellished with an emerald gemstone. Why are his ashes in the shape of a hairpin? Lang Qianqiu stared in bewilderment at first studying the quality of the silver, and then eyeing the faded inscription along the side. It was impossible to read now, but he wondered what it had once said.
He sighed heavily, closing his eyes and allowing the flow of ghost qi to course through his meridians. “These are definitely them…” he muttered to himself. Ghost qi was unmistakeable, especially to a god. Cold to the touch at first, but gradually growing warmer with physical touch. It was a peculiar aura: first shadow-like, then a hopeful flickering light, begging to be seen. Ghost qi left its mark on everything too, like a dirty handprint on white linen. Lang Qianqiu had no qualms about destroying these particular ashes. Doing so would be rectifying. His family would finally know justice—divine justice—and the world would have one less flesh-eating gremlin to worry about.
He knew he was doing the right thing, but still his hand wavered. To kill a ghost is to destroy its ashes. That is the rule. He repeated the rule in his mind over and over again until it began to lose meaning.
… but what did ‘destroying’ a hair pin entail exactly? Would he need to melt the silver down to its liquid state and then discard of what was left? Or could he simply snap the pin in half?
“Well… a hair pin isn’t a hair pin if it's broken into pieces…so that would count as ‘destroying it’…right?” he mused aloud. Foolishly, he hoped someone would answer, just so he could be absolutely certain he was doing this right, but of course he was met with interminable silence.
Was there someone he could call about this, quickly, in the spiritual array? “Hey Ling Wen, I know you’re probably really busy right now, but can you clarify what is actually meant by ‘destroying’ ashes—like is that more metaphorical or should I actually—” Yeah, no he wasn’t going to ask that. Lang Qianqiu heaved another sigh. With no other choice, he trusted his instincts. With two hands, he snapped the silver pin in half. It broke instantly, like a pair of wooden chopsticks would. Is this even real silver? Even if it had been hundreds of years—real precious metals wouldn’t bend so easily. He supposed it really had been that simple after all and he really was just over thinking it, as he could no longer see or feel the ghost qi emanating from the pin. For a moment, he really thought it was finally over—a vengeance hundreds of years in the making was finally actualized. He had finally done it. He had done it! For a split second, this wonderful elation coursed through him wildly, until it came to a jarring halt, until the floor trembled beneath him. All at once, a horrendously blinding light shone in front of him—in the shape of a long oval, like a tall standing mirror. It was like a deep chasm of space, a tear through reality. Everything stilled around him. Even time seemed to still.
“What is…?” He reached out to touch the floating light and once his eyes adjusted to the brightness he saw…stars? A moon? A whole entire galaxy was reflected in this hovering mirror of light. And like the curious fool that he was, he reached out for it; he allowed his hand to pass through and into the infinite array of time.
[System Loading...]
Time was a fickle thing. Qi Rong knew this to be true from the very start. “Just give it time—this place will feel like home soon.” He could always hear the voice of his aunt, his Yimu, echoing in his ear drum every time those feelings started to gather. The aches, the empty, the teary. His eyes suddenly felt hot and prickly all over again; an onslaught of tears threatened to spill over, so he sniffed them back bravely, squeezing his stuffed toy closer to his chest. It was a plush horse made of white silks that had now shown the obvious signs of too much affection. It was hardly white anymore, but Qi Rong remembered how it used to look like and feel like in lieu of forgetting the voice of the person who’d given it to him.
“Rong-er, why don’t you spend some time outside with the other children? The banquet will begin soon,” said the queen.
Qi Rong clutched the stuffed toy tighter, shaking his head furiously. “Don’t want to,” he mumbled.
The queen crouched down so she was eye level with Qi Rong, and still he avoided her gaze. Tears prickled behind his eyes.
“I know you don’t want to, but…you’re a prince, Rong-er. When you’re grown up, you’ll need to be able to talk to all sorts of people.”
Qi Rong thought about what she said for a moment. Since arriving at the palace, this is what he had been told: That he was of royal lineage and from here on out he was of higher status than pretty much everyone. It puzzled him greatly. To get used to the world one way…and then to suddenly have it turn different.
He shook his head in protest. “Can I stay inside with you, Yimu?” Finally, he flicked his eyes up to meet hers. His amber eyes gleamed with the threat of tears. For a second, he was so certain she was going to fold. The way she bit her lower lip and scrunched together her brows—Qi Rong was sure he had her.
The queen smiled softly then and parted her lips. She reached her right hand out to ruffle the top of Qi Rong’s hair. But before she could speak, a door flew open.
“What are you two still doing up here?”
Qi Rong turned and immediately recognized the voice of his Yifu.
“Rong-er, go outside now. The banquet is about to begin and there are plenty of children for you to play with.” The king shot a glare at the queen, though Qi Rong didn’t understand what that look meant.
The queen smoothed her hand through Qi Rong’s hair, nodding in agreement. “He’s right, Rong-er. Come, let’s go outside.”
Qi Rong side-stepped away from her then, a sudden burst of resistance coursing through him. “I’m not going!” He yelled. “I don’t want to!” Qi Rong ran to the furthest corner of the room—grabbing a fistful of the long, red curtains draped over the window. He stepped behind them, concealing himself.
“Rong-er…” The queen’s voice was quiet. “Please don’t be difficult,” she pleaded.
Qi Rong heard the heavy footfalls of his uncle then. As they grew closer, he panicked. He pulled the curtain closer to his face. His heart clamored against his chest; his stomach twisted and burned. “No! Go away! Go away! Go away!”
“Rong-er, that’s enough!” The king bellowed. Swiftly, he pushed the curtain aside and Qi Rong stumbled into view. His uncle grabbed him by the wrist and his big hand was so forceful, so strong, that Qi Rong cried out in pain.
“That hurts!!” He screamed. “Let go!!” When the king gripped him tighter, Qi Rong did what came natural to him and bit down on his hand. His teeth sunk deep into the king’s skin, creating a small puncture wound. His uncle hissed and instinctively pushed Qi Rong away in one swift motion. Qi Rong fell to his knees and finally he started to cry. Tears dripped down his cheeks into the corners of his mouth where he tasted their saltiness. His nose dripped in unison; his body shook. “I wanna go home!” He cried. “I wanna go home!”
Through teary eyes, he peaked up at his uncle’s face. His skin looked red hot and his eyes were cloudy, but all he did was shake his head, glancing towards the queen. “You—you deal with this…with him. I need to go.” At that, his Uncle turned and left—slamming the door shut behind him.
His aunt was beside Qi Rong then. She reached for him gently, to rub or to pat his back but of course Qi Rong wouldn’t let her so close. He shrugged off her hand. How dare she even try? “I wanna go home!” He cried again.
Qi Rong didn’t understand the glassy look in his Yimu’s eyes—he couldn’t make sense of why her lip seemed to tremble and why her brows furrowed even tighter. Why would she look at him like that? When all he had asked was to go home. “Rong-er…we’ve talked about this. This is home now. You are home,” she whispered.
Qi Rong’s breath hitched, the sobs deepening from his chest. He was still clutching his stuffed horse, pressing it closer to his heart— his heart that he wished would just stop beating. The queen reached for him again and this time Qi Rong froze, unwilling to fight her anymore. She squeezed his hand this time, softly, gently. Qi Rong refused to squeeze her back.
“Yimu is going to get you cleaned up, and then we can go downstairs togeth—”
“I don’t want you!” Qi Rong yelled. “I don’t want you..”
“Rong-er…”
“I want mom,” he mumbled. Qi Rong swatted away his tears that fell steadily down his face. The full force of his sobs swept through him then. “I don’t want you!!” He cried louder, until his voice became shrill and broken.
That was when the door creaked open again, and a soft voice filled the room. “I heard a lot of yelling just now…is everyone okay?”
Qi Rong glanced up to see his cousin, the crown prince and all at once, his crying ceased. His body straightened. His shoulders dropped. His demeanor mellowed. And everything stopped. A peculiar calmness swept through him then and a breath finally passed his lips. His heart slowed at the sight of the crown prince. Pure white robes illuminated the room. And Qi Rong swore his cousin’s perfect silhouette carried not even a trace of a shadow behind it, only a halo of light—an infinite glow followed him everywhere.
The queen scrambled to her feet and stood to meet Xie Lian at the door. She placed one delicate hand on his shoulder as she said, “Take Rong-er downstairs with you please.” Her words were hushed like a whisper. She bowed her head and took her leave.
His cousin nodded dutifully in return and finally looked at Qi Rong directly. A small smile appeared on his lips as he carefully approached his younger cousin. Qi Rong nearly trembled with excitement, sniffing back his tears, wiping away his snot with his sleeve. There was no greater dishonor than appearing in front of his esteemed cousin in such a pitiful state.
Xie Lian offered him a handkerchief first, laughing gently as he did so. “Here,” Xie Lian began and Qi Rong accepted the handkerchief gratefully. He blew into it loudly and giggled at the sound. “So, no more tears?”
“No more tears.”
Xie Lian’s smile grew. “Good. There’s a whole bunch of kids outside that want to meet us.” Xie Lian extended his hand out. “Wanna go together?”
Qi Rong bit down on his lower lip and glanced sideways, avoiding his cousin’s gaze altogether. “What if they don’t…” He looked up then to meet his cousin’s honest eyes. They were warm and searching, glistening with an unrivaled patience that was reserved only for family. “...like me?” He finished sheepishly. It was the fear that had been gnawing on him since he arrived at the palace. Would he fit in? Would others point out that he wasn’t like Xie Lian at all? That he didn’t really belong?
Xie Lian ruffled his cousin’s hair. “Nonsense. What could they have to dislike? Plus, I’ll be there, so there’s nothing to worry about at all.”
Qi Rong considered his cousin's words for a moment. And toyed with the idea of possibly being liked by the others. The idea interested him, and for a second he imagined the possibility of gaining friends: people to play with, people to laugh with, people to do stuff with—it didn’t seem too bad really.
“Promise?” Qi Rong asked, as he placed his hand on top of his cousin’s.
“Promise.”