The ancestral hall groaned like an old beast awakening as Jiao Shui and Prince Yang stepped inside. Every ancestral tablet flickered under the candlelight, edges trembling as if the spirits carved into them breathed again.
Even Jiao Shui, who had lived two lives and died once, felt her spine tighten.
The Emperor stood at the front, expression carved from granite. Ministers lined the walls, whispering behind sleeves, glancing nervously at the cracked stone altar.
Cracked was too gentle a word.
The offering altar was split clean down the middle, as though something beneath had pushed upward with deliberate strength.
And the gap in the middle was hollow.Dark.Empty.
Prince Yang surveyed the scene with the slow cold stare of someone calculating war.
"Father," he greeted, bowing.
The Emperor gave a short nod. "You two arrived quickly."
Jiao Shui's gaze drifted to the floor. Thin threads of white incense smoke coiled near the crack, weaving faint patterns like calligraphy trying to write itself.
Her breath caught.
Those threads… they formed a name.
J A O.
Prince Yang noticed it too.
The Emperor continued, unaware of what the younger pair saw. "One of the spirit guardians collapsed at dawn. Another has refused to wake."
Jiao Shui stiffened. "Refused to wake… as in—"
The Emperor cut in, tone heavy. "As in it is alive, but avoiding consciousness. Spirits rarely fear anything in their domain… unless something stronger has arrived."
A minister near the wall croaked, "Should we call for the Imperial Exorcists?"
The Emperor shook his head. "I already did. They fled."
Silence rippled like a cold draft.
Prince Yang took a step forward, eyes locked on the cracked altar. "Her memorial tablet is missing."
Gasps burst around the hall.
The Emperor nodded. "Yes. And that is why you are here, Yang."
Prince Yang arched a brow. "You think I stole it?"
"No," the Emperor replied, voice like slow-moving thunder. "I think it was stolen… for your sake."
Jiao Shui's stomach dropped.
Prince Yang's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
The Emperor gestured to the altar. "There are traces of spirit energy consistent with deep attachment. Obsessive attachment."
The candles guttered. A few ladies in the hall froze in place, afraid even to blink.
The Emperor continued. "Whoever took it did so with longing, love, and… possessiveness."
Prince Yang's jaw tightened. "Jiao."
Jiao Shui jolted. "Excuse me?"
The Emperor's gaze slid toward her. "Child, you were the last person seen near the Jade Pivot Bridge earlier today. And the wards responded to you."
Several ministers began murmuring like a hive of frightened bees.
Jiao Shui lifted her chin. "I did not take the tablet."
Prince Yang watched her closely. Too closely. As if memorizing the tremor in her breath, the defiance in her shoulders.
"And you heard her voice," the Emperor added quietly.
The hall froze.
Jiao Shui swallowed. "What if she's not returning because of him?"
Yang's eyes snapped to hers.
"What if," she continued, ignoring his palpable fury, "she's returning because of something someone did to her?"
A whisper shivered through the hall.A black, cold whisper that felt alive.
The candles all went out at once.
Darkness swallowed the hall.
Someone screamed.
A second later, lanterns flared on by themselves, one by one, in a slow circle… revealing words scraped across the cracked altar.
RETURN WHAT YOU STOLE
Blood-red.Fresh.Still dripping.
Prince Yang stepped in front of Jiao Shui instinctively, the movement smooth and unthinking.
"Father," he said, voice harder than a blade, "she is targeting someone."
The Emperor answered with a grave nod. "Yes. But the question is: who?"
A soft giggle echoed in the rafters.
Jiao Shui froze. That laugh—
It came again. Closer.
And this time…more voices joined it.
Two.No—three.
Feminine.Familiar.
Jiao Shui felt her blood chill.She knew those voices.
Not from the palace.Not from this life.
Her past life.
Her two closest friends.Dead with her.Buried with her secrets.
One voice whispered in her ear.
We're baaaack, Shui.
Jiao Shui's knees buckled.
Prince Yang caught her instantly, grip firm at her waist.
Then the final whisper slithered through the hall:
Tell him the truth… or we will.
And every lantern in the hall shattered.