In the suffocating darkness, Zhang Xiyu doesn't bother lighting his way. A sinister, familiar energy coils through the void, calling to him like an old lover. The predatory veins in his body feel no shame as they loudly yearn to get closer. And this wall…
The energy field behind it is tantalising.
If he didn't already sense that the God of Death lounges behind it, Zhang Xiyu would have already given in. He would rip through this grotesque curtain woven from human hair, shred it into ribbons, and gorge on every last drop of premium demonic qi seething inside.
Suddenly, the torches around him light up with a blinding flare. Their glare unmistakenly reflect his pupils that have turned bright red with his thoughts. The fiery glow clashes with the cold light emanating through that translucent wall of hair. Behind it, a tall silhouette paces, casting long shadows across Zhang Xiyu's terrifying face.
A sigh drifts from behind the curtain, followed by a deep, measured voice.
"Why are you young ones so hungry these days?"
Zhang Xiyu chuckles darkly, forcing restraint It isn't just hunger clawing up his throat—it's centuries of hatred, grief, and rage, breaking free in crashing waves. His hands tremble as he crushes the surge, veins bulging. He must not lose control. Not now. The end is near. He cannot throw away centuries worth of pain just to blast this old bastard's body with all his power, hoping he would be reduced to smithereens.
Zhang Xiyu clamps down on his killing intent and exhales. Cold air hisses between his teeth.
Stay calm.
Slowly, the red drains from his eyes, returning their dark brown colour. The veins bulging on his forearm flatten, one by one. For the first time in two hundred years, Zhang Xiyu kneels. One knee presses against the cold floor, his head bows low. "Zhang Xiyu. An old ghost taken under the wing of the Blue Lotus."
"…it's an honour to meet you, Your Majesty." He forces out the words, almost mumbling.
"You may rise Mr. Zhang."
Lord Enma doesn't notice the fluctuations within Zhang Xiyu as he deals with his own inner turmoil. He hesitantly words out. "How is she- doing?"
Zhang Xiyu rises to his feet with a blank expression. "She is… rediscovering her physical body. After all, she has returned."
"You found all the fragments?" Lord Enma warily asks.
Zhang Xiyu's lips curl into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. With a flick of his right wrist, blue flames swirl and coalesce into three shards.
"Yes." His voice drips malice.
The fragments hover obediently above his palm, their glow slicing into the God's composure.
"Those gems… my sons were holding onto them."
Zhang Xiyu sneers at this old man's flittering and doesn't understand why he continues to probe him in this irritating manner. His patience snaps. "Your sons must have died for it, right?"
Lord Enma goes silent behind the partition and he knows what has rendered him silent. Fear.
Yes. Fear, O God of Death. Fear for their future. Fear me!
Feel the same fear I have felt for centuries.
Zhang Xiyu's eyes narrow with anger as he seriously mulls whether to drag He Bolin here and slaughter him in front of his father. Surely, he will feel some pain, right?
But within the quagmire of these violent thoughts, he is reminded of the friend who has suffered alongside him. The reason behind why he is here and why all three sons of this bastard are still left alive.
He takes a slow breath, chains his rage. "There's nothing to worry about, Your Majesty," he says, voice silky. "The first and second princes are healthy as horses. The third? He's right here with you, remember?"
"Yes… they live…"
Zhang Xiyu smirks, tasting bitter irony. Why am I placating the villain?
"They are all alive. But for some reason she seems… unhappy about that."
The Lord again stiffens with silence. His worst suspicions have borne true. The Blue Lotus really is aiming for his sons. As a god, he understands her calculations, but the father in him is still not strong enough to bear it.
"Your Majesty," Zhang Xiyu murmurs, stepping closer, "I must confess. The Blue Lotus didn't send me here with a message. I came here at my own accord."
"…What?"
"There's something you should know. The Blue Lotus…" His smile widens, cruel and sadistic. "…is no longer pleased with my peaceful way of collecting these stones." With another flick of his hand, the fragments vanish away. "She wants me to kill all your sons. At the earliest."
From the other side, Zhang Xiyu here's a loud crash. He probably must have toppled something over, who knows? And isn't he overreacting a bit? Atleast let me finish my damn lines.
Zhang Xiyu has no empathy for this wretched father. No, Zhang Xiyu has no empathy left at all. His voice drips with mockery as he speaks. "Compose yourself, Lord Enma. I haven't killed a single one yet—"
"You!" The god's roar splits the air.
"-and I won't." He finishes smoothly. "In exchange of information."
He steps closer, eyes burning. "Tell me why she wants your sons dead so badly she'd weave schemes around two ghosts to carry it out."
Lord Enma stares at the youth with bafflement. This man is holding his children hostage and all he wants to hear is some old tale? He could have asked for anything.
Zhang Xiyu mistakes his silence for hesitation and pushes. "I deserve to know. After all, I am one of them."
"That's… it?"
Zhang Xiyu can't help but laugh at the king's stunned vigilance. Because that vigilance is correct. "No, it's not. But it's where we start."
"Depending on how your story ends," his tone turns razor-thin, "I'll make my real request, Your Majesty."
Lord Enma inhales slowly, troubled by the youth's hidden intentions. Ironically, this ghost is his last resort to save his sons; he doesn't know what Zhang Xiyu seeks from this story, but he must hope whatever the boy finds will bend fate in his favour.
"Very well." He lets out a slow sigh." It all started with my first wife, Ren Lifen."
------------------------------------------------------
On the banks of the exalted River Sanzu, Lord Enma decided to break his long-held promise of celibacy, and enter the sanctity of marriage. This decision was not born of impulse, but of the quiet inevitability that had taken root over countless ages. It emerged gently during the millennia of steadfast friendship between Enma and the Second King of Hell—Lord Chujiang, guardian of the river that divides the realm of the living from the domain of the dead. Among their grim duties something more blossomed. A budding romance between Enma and one of Chujiang's own bloodline.
Few among the countless spirits know the truth of Lord Enma's origin. He was not destined at birth for the throne of the underworld. Long before the world named him Enma, he was Yam. As faiths rose and fell, the syllables shifted, Enma was born. To know Enma, one must first know Yam.
Yam was the first man to draw breath upon the mortal earth. He walked the barren land with his sister, Yamuna—the first woman. In that desolation, the burden placed upon them was unspeakable: to shape the beginnings of humankind, regardless of the cost. What was expected of them defied the purity of their nature. Yam refused. His principles stood firm against such profanation, and so, with unyielding resolve, he turned away from the mortal realm. He gave up his place among the living and descended to rule the shadowed realms, binding chaos under the laws of dharma. His sister, Yamuna, remained in the mortal world, flowing as a sacred river. Even now, the two of them set the standard for what it means to be devoted siblings.
Nonetheless, even the strongest vows are not eternal.
Her name was Ren Lifen—a name spoken in reverence across the infernal courts. She was steadfast, accomplished, and graced with a beauty that poets in life and death could scarcely capture. The kind of woman who could make saints sweat and demons dream. Among her four sisters, she was no mere star; she was the moon itself, cold and luminous above the rest. Her radiance drew the gaze of nobles and kings from even the distant hells, yet her devotion rested upon one alone.
What a momentous occasion it was. Gods and monsters alike gathered to bestow blessings upon the fated union. Their sovereign had at last taken a queen worthy of his station, and the underworld rejoiced Their life together seemed a tapestry woven of harmony and happiness. When the populace saw their eternal love, they thought that Lord Enma had drawn fortune itself. A queen of such renown, so fiercely desired, could only be won through tireless devotion and divine favour. those nearest to the throne knew who chased after whom.
Ren Lifen's disregarded sisters understood what the world could not. They alone had witnessed the hunger that burned within her heart, the relentless tide that wore down the immovable rock. Only they were aware of her all-consuming obsession. A drive for perfection.
After discovering the depths of Ren Lifen's nature, two of her sisters chose to turn away. Each settled for a quiet life, marrying modestly and distancing themselves from the affairs of the capital. They withdrew so completely that even Ren Jiang barely remembers that he has three aunts, not one. The one he remembers very clearly, is the youngest of the bunch and doesn't show up until later. While the queen was ambitious, her nature wasn't thorny. Once she took her station, she dutifully embraced the role of wife. Her feelings for the king were no façade; she truly loved him. Soon, they were expecting a son. The kings of hell themselves joined Emperor Enma in reporting the auspicious news to Guanyin and the other bodhisattvas.
Upon their return, an intimate banquet was arranged. Ren Lifen was positively glowing at this fifth month of pregnancy. Her mind was at peace, her heart overflowing with joy as she welcomed nobles and elders alike. Her face shone with elation as she accepted their congratulations. She had everything she ever wanted: a saintly husband, their son on the way, and the highest throne in all of hell. She was triumphant—as a woman, a mother, and a queen.
"Lifen jiě jie."
Ren Lifen turned toward the voice, her smile broadening. "Lihua!"
Ren Lihua straightened as her sister pulled her into a tight embrace. Her eyes were bright, her voice soft and melodic. "Many congratulations to my dearest jiě jie." From her sleeve, she drew a small bundle of talismans and placed them in Ren Lifen's palm.
"Here. Keep these close to protect my nephew."
Ren Lifen accepted them absently, her gaze locking on her youngest sister. In her excitement, she had failed to notice Lihua's attire—pure white robes, utterly unadorned. No jewels. No makeup. Not even a hairpin.
"You—"
Ren Lihua offered a timid smile. "I have taken the path of the bodhisattva. I have relinquished my noble title and material riches for spirituality. I have vowed asceticism and celibacy for the rest of my life."
Ren Lifen's eyes widened as she pulled Lihua into a quiet corner. "Are you serious?" Her tone was sharp, almost a reprimand. "I have known you were eccentric since you were a babe, but this? Why? What about our parents?"
Lihua seemed unmoved by her nagging, though her smile thinned like paper. "Do not worry, Your Majesty." She slipped easily from her sister's grasp. "All three of my elder sisters have married and found happiness. And you, the apple of our parents' eyes, have achieved even more. With you on the throne, they do not fret over my… unconventional choices."
Seeing the concern still clouding Lifen's eyes, Lihua sighed softly and added, "I know what I am doing, jiě jie. Believe me, the traditional life would never suit me."
Ren Lifen exhaled deeply, her hand resting on her sister's head in rare tenderness.
Lihua cleared her throat, masking the complicated emotions beneath her calm. She shifted the topic. "The other two sisters, aren't they coming?"
Ren Lifen shook her head. "It would be a long journey just for a small banquet. They've chosen their modest lives and cling to them stubbornly, much like you, and refuse even a teleportation stone from me. Even so…" She led Lihua to a side room overflowing with gifts from the guests. At the centre stood two enormous baskets of homemade offerings. "They sent these. Thoughtful as always. I—"
A sound cut her off. Voices drifted from outside—Lord Enma's faint tone, laced with irritation. "Isn't that unnecessary?" he said, aggrieved.
The voices moved toward the courtyard. With night creeping colder and darker, the space was empty when the group of three entered. The sisters trailed silently, hiding behind an alcove.
Lord Enma stood frowning at the first king of hell, Lord Qinguang. The two were locked in a tense exchange while the fourth king, Lord Wuguan, lingered awkwardly behind.
Enma's voice was calm but edged. "Your concerns make sense, Lord Qinguang. But haven't I proven myself trustworthy? Why insist I would lose my reason to personal feelings?"
Lord Qinguang's gaze was sharp as a blade. "Haven't you done so already?"
The night air seemed to curdle.
"A saint like you," Qinguang continued, voice like a verdict, "have you not already broken your vow of celibacy?"
Enma's frown deepened, but Qinguang didn't flinch. The tension thickened, an invisible rope pulling tighter with each breath, until Lord Wuguan hurriedly stepped between them. "There, there," Wuguan said, hands raised. "The two of you—relax."
Qinguang took a step back, but his tone softened only in sound, not in weight. "We were merely servants of the God, my dear friend. Your title…" he smiled without humour. "…was never meant to mirror the mortal realm. But now…"
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "You've dragged that title into the mud of politics."
Enma said nothing. His expression darkened, but silence was his only shield. Qinguang pushed Wuguan aside and closed the gap between them, his voice dropping an octave, heavy as a tolling bell.
"The elders foretold your future." Qinguang whispered. "This son… he will be your calamity."
Ren Lifen's breath caught. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she swallowed the scream clawing up her throat. Her son. A calamity?!
Like a tumultuous river, their conversation made grander waves. "And still," Qinguang spat, "You went through with it. Should I even ask where your priorities lie?" He exhaled sharply; the sound laced with disappointment. "Now that you've stoked the flames of politics in your court, you'd better pray it doesn't burn everything down."
Qinguang straightened, his voice firm. "Lord Enma. Your marriage was approved on one promise."
"I will mitigate it." Enma calmly replied. His mind settling down to face the reality. "I have brought shame to the elders who entrusted me with their faith. That trust… has fractured."
His gaze lowered, heavy with consequence. "The court can no longer rely on my instincts."
Qinguang's face reflects his agony as he puts a hand on Wuguan's shoulder. "Enma," he said, almost gently. "We have ruled long enough, us ten kings of hell, watching dynasties rise, fall, and rot in the sands of time. It would be abhorrent if we learned nothing from their mistakes."
The two of them share a weary smile. Qinguang continues. "The elders fear power imbalance. So why not introduce a new weight to the scale?"
Qinguang pats Wuguan on the back. Upon hearing his next words, Ren Lifen collapses in her sister's arms with blinding shock. On the day that celebrates the son in her womb, she hears pure blasphemy. What Qinguang had spoken was.
"Here's a suggestion. Marry Wuguan's young princess of the He family. What do you say?"
The four seasons passed in a blink. The leaves dried, and the wind turned bitter.
Such was the pace of time as Ren Lifen gradually let go of her old ambitions to raise her son—Ren Jiang.
As her motherly emotions deepened, so too did her devotion to the Dao. It did not go unnoticed; the Queen's newfound reverence was often marked by the frequent invitations the Daoists received from the palace.
No one could say for certain why this change had come about. Some whispered that motherhood had given her a new set of burdens. Others murmured that someone—someone close—had influenced her.
And indeed, that was the case. Professors may have changed, but the woman who accompanied them always remained the same: the Queen's sister, Ren Lihua. Her visits grew ever more frequent after the announcement of Lord Enma's second marriage. The fifth King of Hell was to wed the princess of the Fourth King's house—He Suyin.
Every corner of the palace blazed with red and gold lamps. Servants had adorned the halls with the rarest flowers, their faces bright with anticipation for the arrival of their lord's new consort.
Though Lord Enma had agreed to the marriage, he deemed it too troublesome to have two queens. Thus, even after He Suyin went through the sacred rites, her title remained that of Queen Consort.
Ren Lifen wished desperately to flee that glittering mockery of celebration. The palace shimmered with joy—everything she could no longer feel. Yet duty forced her to stand at the gates, pretending she belonged among them. Only the small, warm weight of her son in her arms brought her any comfort.
Some days, she was grateful to the lord for sparing her child despite the prophecy. Most days, resentment burned stronger.
Is he not your son?
Why heed the words of others over your own blood? Over my love?
Behind her calm expression, such thoughts festered.
So, when a delicate red veil swept past the corner of her eye, she almost missed it.
"Your Majesty."
The veiled woman knelt low, her forehead touching the cold stone floor.
"Rise." Ren Lifen said, adjusting Ren Jiang in her arms. She stiffened as He Suyin lifted her gaze.
"What a beauty!"
"Peerless! The Queen Consort stands peerless!"
The murmurs of the courtiers slithered through the air, gnawing at Lifen's composure. Her grip on Ren Jiang tightened. Between the two women—one crowned, one newly adorned—the child began to cry, his wails cutting through the music like a curse.
In the years that followed, Ren Lifen had the displeasure of becoming well acquainted with He Suyin. Both women came from the same social stratum, their education nearly identical. While He Suyin lacked some of Ren Lifen's cultural finesse, she more than made up for it in other ways—her skill with a bow was legendary, and her political sense razor-sharp.
All of this posed a direct threat to Ren Lifen's position—a position secured by only one thing, her son.
"Your son."
The words came as a whisper in the dim-lit chamber. Ren Lihua spoke as if afraid the shadows themselves might overhear. The windowless room held only the two sisters—one kneeling, one standing. With the tail of some unidentifiable beast in her hand, Ren Lihua traced a pentagram across the floor.
The stench of blood filled the air.
Ren Lifen stood behind her, pale and uneasy. Though she was born a demon, she had never hunted nor fed upon the living; such animalistic acts were unbecoming of a queen. Yet the copper tang rising from the tub of blood made her stomach twist.
"How… how will this work exactly?" she asked, her voice betraying both fear and fascination.
Ren Lihua's expression softened—or tried to. "Stop worrying, elder sister. This array will simply enhance the spiritual essence of my darling nephew. It only draws upon the energy of nature."
Ren Lifen took an involuntary step back. "And this process… is continuous?" Do we have to do this again and again?
Ren Lihua slowly stood, meeting her sister's gaze. Her once-white Daoist robes were now black and slick with blood. The woman who had once walked the path of discipline now tread that of darkness. Her vows of celibacy had twisted into something else—devotion of another kind.
In the years to come, the covert monk would be forgotten. In her place would rise the infamous shaman who ignited the great purge of black magic, even as she inspired the next generation of occultists.
"Elder sister," she said softly, almost tenderly. "Trust me this one time, all right? If you are not satisfied… I will never bring it up again."
Ren Lifen stood gilded from head to toe—her robes, her crown, her very skin gleaming with privilege—yet her heart was sinking fast. Her gaze fell upon her blood-soaked sister, the demon queen, and the witch bound by desperation. After a long silence, she nodded. Reluctantly. Fatally.
And so, the legendary master's beginnings happened right under the nose of hell's king. Against him, too.
The ritual was a grand success. Young Ren Jiang's cultivation soared beyond expectation—within mere months, he surpassed demons twice his age. Since no one had ever witnessed a true Prince of Hell before, the court could only attribute his prodigious growth to Lord Enma's divine bloodline.
Though, on an entirely unrelated note, the King had been feeling rather... under the weather.
"This is absurd! The King of Hell has a cold? What do you take him for—a mortal?" Behind closed doors, demons and immortals bickered endlessly. Some called it a ruse, others whispered that it was true.
Weeks later, the Queen's composure finally shattered. Ren Lifen slammed the door shut behind her, trapping her sister inside. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes bloodshot.
"You!"
Ren Lihua blinked, startled by the sudden intrusion.
"Your ritual—" Lifen's voice broke into a scream. "It's draining his qi! You're stealing energy from my husband's dantian! Have you gone mad?"
Ren Lihua lifted her hands in mild protest, forcing a placid smile. "Now, now… you're overreacting—"
"Tell me exactly what that array does, or I'll—"
The younger sister didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned and gracefully sank into a couch. Lifen hesitated, trembling, before following suit. For a long moment, silence filled the air—heavy and taut, like a string about to snap.
Then, in a tone far too casual, Ren Lihua spoke. "An interesting rumour has been making rounds lately."
Ren Lifen shot her a dangerous look. Lihua waved it off, eyes wide with feigned innocence.
"Oh, haven't you heard?" she asked, leaning closer, lowering her voice until it was barely a whisper. Her breath ghosted against Lifen's jewelled ear, the words sliding out like venom.
"The Queen Consort, He Suyin…" Her lips curved into a cruel smile.
"She's pregnant. With a son."
A pulse of power exploded through the room. Ren Lifen's spiritual pressure spiked violently, shattering her jewellery with a sharp, crystalline crack. Shards embedded themselves into her skin— all except one ring. The one forged by Lord Enma himself.
"Oh my! Of course you wouldn't know." Ren Lihua went on, feigning surprise. "The Lord forbade anyone from telling you."
"THAT CANNOT BE!"
The Queen's crown slipped from her head. Her eyes reddened, tears spilling down her flawless cheeks. Her face twisted into an expression she hadn't known she could make. One hand clutched her chest as if to stop her heart from tearing in two. Then she collapsed, trembling.
"Jiě jie! Lifen jiě jie!"
Ren Lihua rushed to her, but froze midway. She had expected an outburst, perhaps some shouting, some violence—but not this.
Hours passed. The once radiant Queen sat motionless on the cold marble, staring at nothing.
Ren Lihua hadn't expected this. She had meant to wound, not destroy. Hours passed, and still her sister sat motionless on the cold marble floor, eyes empty, spirit drifting. The once-bright room dimmed into gloom. No light reached her anymore.
Outside, Ren Jiang and her maids waited anxiously, but Lihua barred them from entering. Best to keep them away, she thought. Her sister's heartbreak had already corrupted her qi; the spiritual essence within her was spiralling into chaos.
And yet, even in that silence, those vacant eyes seemed to reach toward the deepest corners of the dark room—as if something there was calling back.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed Ren Lihua. She slumped onto the couch, muttering to herself, There's nothing I can do.
Unbeknownst to her, that sleep would stretch far longer than she intended. And when she awoke, there would be no trace of her sister—as if Ren Lifen, and everything that had happened, had been nothing but a dream.
Ren Lihua burst out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the silent hall. Panic drove her as she scoured the corridors for her sister. Just as she reached the Queen's study, a figure stepped into her path.
A plainly dressed maid—old, stooped, her gaze lowered—stood guarding the door. Hands tucked neatly into her sleeves, she bowed slightly.
"Madam Ren."
"Nao." Lihua hissed, "I need to see my sister."
"Forgive me, madam," the maid murmured, "but Her Highness is not in her courtyard at the moment."
"Not in here—? Where is she?"
Nao's gaze fell even lower, her voice trembling. "Her Highness is currently in His Majesty's chambers. I… I do not know why, but she left to see him in the middle of the night."
Ren Lihua's heart dropped. She seized the frail maid by the shoulders, shaking her hard enough to make the woman gasp. "Did she say anything before she left? She must have said something! What did she say?"
"…she did." Nao whispered, terrified. "Her Highness said she was worried for His Majesty's health… that it was imperative she—"
"Shit."
Lihua let go abruptly, her thoughts racing. Her frown deepened, then slowly eased into something unreadable. "You. Inform me the moment she returns, understand? Immediately."
"Y-yes, madam."
The next few days remained ominously uneventful Ren Lifen made no effort to contact her, and the palace guards turned Lihua away at every gate with polite apologies and lowered eyes. She spent her time pacing her small courtyard—one her sister had once gifted her. Ren Lihua was now mulling whether she should leave this courtyard before her sister remembers to throw her out of it. She thought grimly.
This time I went too far. Too soon.
The dusk wind tugged at her plain black robes. Too fucking soon.
"Let's wait a few more days," she muttered, glancing at the packed luggage in the corner.
Then came the creak of the main gate—and with it, a familiar surge of spiritual energy.
"Lifen jiě jie—" she began, relief and dread mixing in her throat.
But she froze. Something was wrong. Her sister's qi still churned with chaos—less violent than before, but still tainted, unstable.
No lamps were lit. The courtyard was cloaked in shadows, and Lihua could not see her sister's face.
"Your heart demon…" she whispered.
The doors behind Ren Lifen slammed shut with a thunderous bang. The locks turned off their own accord. A sealing spell shimmered faintly across the walls, cutting off all sound from the outside world.
Ren Lihua rarely feared her sister. Unlike their other two siblings, she had never understood what frightened them.
She's just a pretty girl with a smooth tongue and nimble fingers, she used to say. What's there to fear?
But as they stood facing each other in the dim, suffocating courtyard, Ren Lihua finally understood. And for the first time, she felt the urge to run.
Turquoise light spilled across Ren Lifen's face, tracing the hollows beneath her eyes as she stepped closer. "He's doing well," she said softly. "Your brother-in-law. My husband."
Ren Lihua forced her lips to move. "That's… wonderful."
"Yes." Ren Lifen smiled, slow and distant. The crown on her head tilted slightly as she studied her sister. "I see you've stopped the ritual."
Her voice was calm—too calm.
"Why?" she asked. "Do you no longer wish your nephew a grand fortune?"
"Of course I do," she replied quickly, her voice trembling, as though the wrong tone might shatter the air between them.
"You do…" Lifen murmured, her smile deepening. "Oh. I almost forgot to congratulate you, dear sister." She reached out and clasped Lihua's clammy hands in her own cold ones.
"You now have another nephew."
Ren Lihua dared not meet her gaze. The queen's beautiful face was a study in lunacy—her eyes bright, her expression too still.
"The Queen Consort," Lifen continued, her tone lilting with mock delight, "has given Lord Enma another son. Congratulations to the entire realm."
She spread her arms wide, as if embracing the heavens themselves.
Lihua said nothing. She couldn't. The memory of that night—the night she had broken her sister's composure—still clawed at her mind.
So, Ren Lihua remained standing in silence, not moving a single finger. So did Ren Lifen. She stood there lost in thought while her dark eyes bored in her sister.
The quiet minutes felt torturous to one while momentous to the other. After all, she was going to make the toughest decision of her life.
At last, Ren Lifen spoke. "Resume the ritual."
Ren Lihua's head jerked up. "This time," the queen said, her tone flat and distant, "do it quietly. Make sure no one notices. No one."
"…Yes."
Ren Lifen nodded, almost absently, and turned toward the door. Then she paused.
"And, Lihua…"
"Do you know… a good poison?"