Chapter 23 – The Story

The Female Ghost couldn’t stand her utterly unsurprised attitude. “It’s a good story, but the writing style is exceptionally poor. If I didn’t know it was a story, I’d have thought it was someone’s outline.”

“It is an outline.” Zhan Changfeng had nothing to deny. “In truth, I cannot describe the emotions within it because I don’t understand them, but I know how to create conflict and guide people’s feelings. As for a complete story, I’ll find someone to polish it.”

This time it was the Female Ghost’s turn to be speechless. “You really do remind me of something called ‘soul-snatching.'”

Zhan Changfeng looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

The Female Ghost shook her head. “Never mind.”

Were children nowadays all this terrifying, or had she simply happened upon an exception?

“Why did you write these stories?” The Female Ghost felt this was no coincidence.

Zhan Changfeng didn’t answer. Instead, she handed her something she had just finished writing. “This is the sixth story.”

The sixth story was an echo of the first, which had a matriarchal backdrop — where women held exalted status due to the greatness of bearing life, until, in the end, that very ability to bear life was exploited by despicable men who turned women into tools for reproduction.

The sixth story was also the destruction of the idealized Great Harmony world of the fifth story. When resources became unevenly distributed, distinctions between noble and lowly sharpened, and hierarchies solidified, the entire world seemed to have had its sky shattered, and all manner of injustice returned upon every person.

When you had followed the rises and falls of the first five stories and finally gained some understanding, thinking you could stand atop a mountain and breathe fresh air, the sixth story would drag you completely into the mud of reality, forcing you to open your eyes and see the situation you were truly in.

The Female Ghost was no longer human, but even she, reaching the end, felt an impulse to slam her hand on the table and leap to her feet — as though, just when things were reaching their height, someone had snuck up behind her and struck her with a heavy blow.

You had the ability to write about Great Harmony, yet no ability to sustain it?!

Deliberately tormenting people.

Zhan Changfeng watched the changes in the Female Ghost’s expression and knew the book was already half a success. “Do you like that Great Harmony world?”

Because of the emotional torment in the preceding stories, the preciousness of Great Harmony was all the more apparent.

Moreover, Great Harmony had always existed in the subconscious of the human race, appearing under such images as “paradise beyond the world” and “immortal homeland” — whether in literary works or in the fantasies of ordinary people, it had endured through the ages.

This story was something men and women, young and old, would all yearn for.

The Female Ghost suddenly exclaimed in admiration, “You are very talented.”

“This has nothing to do with talent.” Zhan Changfeng murmured softly to herself. “True talent is the ability to turn it into reality.”

“. . .” The Female Ghost’s phoenix eyes widened.

“Surprised?” The corners of Zhan Changfeng’s mouth never curved upward, yet she was genuinely smiling. “Don’t you think the backdrop of the fourth story resembles the present? War is about to begin, and I intend to turn the turmoil into a cradle of enlightenment.”

“Just who are you!”

“Yi Zhan.”

Under heaven, who but the imperial family of the Yin Dynasty would dare bear the surname Yi? The Female Ghost had been dead for a hundred years, yet she knew well the power of the imperial family.

But was the Yin Dynasty not currently ruled by a young Emperor?

So the person before her was the former Crown Prince?!

Such was the power of rumor — the Female Ghost had only just woken up and had barely been dragged around the city once by Clear Wind, yet she had already heard all the “anecdotes” of this imperial palace, with the key points absorbed with remarkable precision.

The Female Ghost found it unbelievable, yet also somehow inevitable. “You want to reclaim the throne.”

Zhan Changfeng shook her head.

This left the Female Ghost confused. “If you have no position or power, who will trust you?”

“My ability has never been given to me by my position. On the contrary, if I wished it, any position would be within easy reach — but in this matter, the one thing needed least is position.”

Zhan Changfeng said, “I will only provide a new way of thinking. There will always be those who awaken, who will lead the people to change. The world belongs to its people — it’s rather pointless for it to always be controlled entirely by a single person.”

“On that alone, expecting people to rise up in resistance? That’s sheer fantasy.” The Female Ghost didn’t know whether to marvel at the grandness of her vision or to lament its naive delusion.

But the one thing she could not do was laugh at her.

Because if, across this long span of history, there had ever been a true sage who genuinely cared for the human race and took action accordingly, it would surely be someone like her.

“Of course, this alone is not enough.” Since the Female Ghost was her first audience, Zhan Changfeng was generous with her words.

“The Yin Dynasty has four hundred million people, seven out of ten of whom are illiterate. Without war, they would stay on their small plots of land until they died of old age without ever stirring. Fortunately, the emperors of the past few generations excelled equally in eating, drinking, and amusement, and folk entertainment grew greatly as a result. Novels and storybooks developed enormously — even those who could not read could listen to storytellers or watch theatrical performances. These stories are prepared for ordinary commoners.”

“Although I am no longer Crown Prince, I still hold power in my hands. Spreading these stories is something I can accomplish. Anything deeper than that will have to be entrusted to others, since I don’t plan to take back the throne.”

“At the same time, I won’t deny it — these stories will make those who read them deeply uncomfortable, to the point where they’ll want to curse out loud, to engage in fierce verbal and written condemnation. They will also make people understand something, awaken to something. Yet conflict and contradiction have always been the starting point of ideological change. Stories and rumors are powerful tools for stirring emotions. If one has not gone through this layer of growing pains, how can one face the existence of life squarely, and understand the rights that life possesses?”

Throughout history, many who were called sages proposed ‘Great Harmony’ — yet beneath their lofty and beautiful depictions, they never spoke of the blood that must be shed to achieve all of this. And so ‘Great Harmony’ was unrealistic, just as the contradiction between spear and shield could never truly be resolved.

In her eyes, there were truly no surnames, no noble or lowly — only the useful and the unusable. Her education and her position had led her to believe she was the one who assigned surnames and distinguished rank. She relinquished the throne, but she did not relinquish her sense of purpose.

During this time she had also thought deeply about what had driven her to conceive this mad, naive idea of revolution.

Was it the disguise she had worn since birth, the old Emperor’s declaration that a woman could never be Emperor, or the shock of those past five thousand years of history?

At its core, she did not care whether she was male or female — but she could not tolerate others denying a part of her that was determined at birth. It filled her with an immense sense of offense.

And the best way to deal with such offense was to eradicate it at the root.

She . . . was reluctant to admit that the fall of the Yin Dynasty had been tinged with a certain degree of her own “letting things take their course.” However, by the time she had noticed the strangeness within the Li household, matters had truly become irreversible. There was a power lurking behind that family that exceeded all mortal imagination. After several batches of innate-level experts she had secretly dispatched were killed, she could only helplessly acknowledge this fact and had prepared herself to die for her country.

But she had survived.

The fall of the nation igniting war, revolution intensifying chaos, searching for clues to cultivation — none of it was done without purpose. The ultimate practical goal was to buy time, to force into the open the hidden power that had truly brought about the Yin Dynasty’s downfall.

But she did not believe her current self could oppose that force. If things went smoothly, she planned to release certain acquired-level and innate-level cultivation methods, spreading the martial path among the people — as an imperial dynasty, there was no shortage of martial arts manuals — so as to extend the timeline for revenge and use one force against another. However, this was predicated on the people’s wisdom being opened and Shenzhou still being under her control. Therefore, she had to establish someone to take her place in entering and ultimately ending this chaos, and to build a suitable environment for martial cultivation — so that she herself could wholeheartedly search for a power of a higher order.

When Zhan Changfeng’s thoughts reached this point, she tilted her head. “That goddess shall be called the Nine Heavens Mysterious Lady. This ‘Daoist Clear Void’ will be the Nine Heavens Mysterious Lady’s emissary. When the time comes, these stories will be spread alongside the news of the ‘Old Immortal’ subduing the Hundred Ghosts — the potential for it to become legend is enormous.”

The Female Ghost finally understood — Crown Prince, Emperor, what did any of it matter? In the end, it was just using the common people as much as possible, wasn’t it.

“Why not make up a story about the Nine Heavens Mysterious Lady descending to the mortal world?”

To which Zhan Changfeng replied, “There will be.”

It was just that her Nine Heavens Mysterious Lady’s intentions were still unclear.

The time to make a decision was finally approaching. Could she bear the sin of rivers of blood flowing across the land?

War is about to begin, war is about to begin — the cold weather gave meaning to that word “about.”

Before that point, whether for herself, for Li Mao, or for Yi Shang, there was still an opportunity to stabilize the Yin Dynasty. Never mind who would ultimately hold power — a political transition was always less costly than war.

Moreover, during this period Li Mao had been continuously winning over minor lords, and his hand of cards was growing ever larger. Perhaps he truly could overawe the restless lords and calm the situation.

“The weather is about to turn warm.”

War must begin.

It was laughable — she had once wished for a peaceful and prosperous age, yet now she had to shatter it with her own hands.

Zhan Changfeng blew the bone whistle. With a rush of wingbeats, a group of messenger falcons landed on the windowsill, forcing the Female Ghost to step back a little.

The Female Ghost counted carefully — there were a full seven of them. “So you like raising falcons.”

“Only the falcon can soar through the sky after its wings are broken.” Zhan Changfeng secured the message papers, and the seven messenger falcons flew off in seven different directions.

The Female Ghost instinctively felt that those letters would stir up great events, yet it wasn’t her place to ask too much. She had been away from the world of the living for so long — no matter how great the event, it had nothing to do with her.

The Female Ghost once again sat melancholically by the window, gazing into the distance as she had at the very beginning.

Zhan Changfeng was not entirely clear on the situation of ghosts, and besides, this was her residence — what did it mean to have a ghost constantly lingering here?

“When are you leaving?”

Well then — she didn’t even ask why she was staying, going straight to ordering her out. The Female Ghost glanced at her. “This is the house that belonged to my family.”

“I bought it.”

“. . .” The Female Ghost bit her lip, then after a long moment gazed sadly out the window. “This was my child’s room.”

“Sometimes I would sit here and watch her play on the grass outside. Sometimes I would sit here holding her and telling her stories. Sometimes I would sit here waiting for her to fall asleep . . .”

The Female Ghost turned her face, gazing gently at Zhan Changfeng. “She was about your age, though considerably more adorable than you.”

“My fault.” My fault for choosing such a room. Zhan Changfeng walked out indifferently, wondering how that little Daoist was getting on.

The Female Ghost let out a soft laugh, tidied up the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone on the desk, then picked up that stack of manuscripts and began reading again.

PS: While writing these past few chapters, I kept thinking that every politician must have graduated from a pyramid scheme — wait, no . . . oh damn, I forgot to give Ghost Sister a name!