To serve the dead as one serves the living—Yin Weiyin could not recall when he first heard this phrase. But now, as he took in the sights of the underworld, it seed to perfectly mirror its truth.
Standing on the broad terrace, gazing alone from a great height, he beheld rows upon rows of black-tiled buildings, pale-faced beings—human, demon, and ghost alike—roaming below. A river of ghostly blue wove its way through the ghost city from north to south. The clamor of shouts and bustling crowds echoed incessantly. When disputes arose, squads of brightly garbed riders would gallop over in haste, dragging offending spirits off either to the fiery pits or to the frozen dungeons. Everything within the ghost city operated with strict order, as if it was a mirror of the mortal world below the surface.
At the very heart of the ghost city, in the grand plaza before Yama Hall, stood an enormous sacrificial altar. Square in shape, its corners were adorned by statues of the Four Symbols and the twenty-eight constellations, each carved with lifelike precision, as if they might spring to life at any mont. Figures dressed as witches waved fans and banners, seeming to conduct so ritual. At the altar’s very center yawned an enormous, pitch-black hole, its depths unknown and foreboding.
A cold wind swept past, setting the dense, swirling currents of air into motion, causing the terrace to sway slightly. Yin Weiyin stood with his hands calmly resting against his abdon, unmoving, like a figure surveying the mortal realm from the clouds. Just as immortals may view the mortal world’s fleeting delusions with fascination, so too might mortals gaze in wonder upon the ghost city’s surreal and otherworldly splendor.
Behind him, a maidservant who appeared to be from the imperial household approached slowly and offered a gentle reminder:
"Your Highness, the Commandery Princess, you have been looking for nearly an hour."
Yin Weiyin ca back to his senses and replied:
"I’ll look for another quarter-hour and then return. Prepare a bowl of silver ear fungus soup in the tea room."
Her voice was elegant and composed, and she had adapted quickly to the new title of "Commandery Princess."
Originally, after her marriage, she was to be titled as Commandery Princess. Now, transitioning from Commandery Princess to Elder Princess, what difference could there truly be? Aside from the scale of the dowry, in substance, there was hardly any change.
Moreover, as a female crown who prided herself on the pursuit of Taoism, she had always regarded worldly fa and fortune as re dust and dirt—unbearable to carry with her, unfit to leave behind—ant only to be scattered by the breeze.
The only thing that had surprised her was not the shift from Commandery Princess to Elder Princess, but that she was, in fact, an imperial princess.
Had it not been for the forr emperor’s words, Yin Weiyin could never have imagined that the forr emperor himself was rely a paper effigy created by her father, the Prince.
As for the reasoning behind it, she had asked, but this father of hers was in no hurry to explain and had pressed the matter aside for now.
"Your Majesty, King Yan."
"We pay our respects to His Majesty, King Yan."
... At so unknown mont, waves of voices paying homage rose from behind her. Yin Weiyin turned her head and saw the forr emperor walking his way toward her, hands clasped behind his back.
Hesitating for a mont, the female crown bowed courteously and greeted him, saying, "Father."
"You and I are father and daughter—there’s no need for such excessive formality," the forr emperor waved a hand dismissively with a smile, then turned his gaze to look out over Yingdu Ghost City in the sa direction she had been watching. "Spirits and specters, monsters and demons—all live side by side here in Yingdu. The na ’Weiyin’ in your na cos precisely from this place, Yingdu."
How could Yin Weiyin not understand? As a Taoist, she had long delved deeply into the origins of her na.
She turned her gaze once more toward the sacrificial altar.
The forr emperor spoke at an opportune mont: "This is the Altar of Heaven and Earth, created to invert the mortal world and the underworld. Once the ritual is complete, the capital city aboveground will be exchanged for the underworld, and this ghost city of Yingdu will ascend to the surface. When that ti cos, your father—myself—will ascend to immortal status in one fell swoop, and you will ascend alongside ."
This thod is an ancient secret technique. During the reign of the Emperor of Great Yu, he sought the way of immortality countless tis. By pure chance, he obtained this secret art from an immortal and kept it as a contingency plan.
"While I was alive, I believed this thod would never be needed. Yet who would have thought... I was nothing more than my brother’s paper effigy." Hidden within the forr emperor’s words was a faint laugh, but Yin Weiyin could hear a hint of bitterness.
Relentlessly, she asked, "Father, did you an to say... you didn’t know that you were a paper effigy before?"
Her question was blunt, but the forr emperor chuckled leisurely and answered, "I didn’t. It was only after failing to slay the Three Corpses and being unable to ascend to immortality that I realized."
"...Why?"
"My father, the emperor, had daughters but no sons for many years. He was overjoyed when my younger brother was born in his later years but deeply concerned that my brother might face harm—be it assassinated or falling victim to misfortune. So he created several paper effigies of princes for him. On the surface, they were supposed to masquerade as real princes, but their true purpose was to act as stand-ins for danger and death, scattering to various regions to confound and deceive external threats. Yet who could have foreseen..."
The forr emperor clasped his hands behind his back and stood against the wind, recalling the past with a sigh:
"Who could have foreseen that I, being far away from him, would develop a soul of my own, learning the profound arts of nationcraft under the Crown Prince’s Tutor? My younger brother, on the other hand, lacked talent for governance—a re idle Prince with little aptitude, at that. Thus, my father decreed to be Crown Prince and heir to the empire."
So much intrigue and turbulence from the past were neatly encapsulated in that statent. Yin Weiyin could tell that the events of that ti must have been far more complicated and not sothing ant for the younger generation to fully comprehend.
To be honest, when the female crown first learned that the forr emperor was rely a paper effigy of her father, her mind was flooded with countless thoughts.
She had even wondered if her father had plotted deeply, marveling at his tireless decades of concealnt—lines drawn in the dust, stretching across a thousand miles.
But now, upon hearing the truth, she realized her father was still the sa father—not hiding his talents but genuinely untalented.
The forr emperor slightly raised his gaze, as if peering off into the great capital above. He sighed wistfully: "I should have discovered the truth long ago. On my wedding night, I fell into a sudden dreamless slumber and thought that counted as consummation. Who would have imagined that I was rely a paper effigy? And how could a paper effigy consummate a marriage? The saying goes that the imperial harem hosts three thousand beauties, yet throughout my decades on the throne, not once did I touch a concubine. The only things I ever concerned myself with were governance and statecraft."
Listening to these wistful remarks, Yin Weiyin, familiar with the nature of paper effigies, understood. Paper effigies, once damaged, would leak air. And in the closeness of the bedchamber, whether man or woman, injuries were inevitable.
For instance, in monts of passion, if a woman were to scratch a man and leave a mark, the paper effigy would imdiately deflate upon receiving such a wound.
The forr emperor gestured to the sacrificial altar and said simply:
"Weiyin, your father needs you to preside over the grand array. You are the Taichua Goddess. When this array’s ritual is complete, it will an ascension."
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