Zhao Hanzhang and Fu Tinghan had never imagined that the Underworld really existed; as soon as they arrived, they immediately started curiously looking around and doing research.
When they learned that Zhao Changyu wielded great influence in the Underworld and also had plenty of money, the two of them couldn’t help borrowing people and funds from him for their studies.
They were very interested in the existence of ghost messengers, and even more interested in King Yanluo and the other Ghost Immortals.
They were all beings who didn’t reincarnate, so why was it that the longer King Yanluo and the Ghost Immortals existed, the stronger their combat power became, while ordinary ghosts grew weaker and weaker until they finally disappeared?
Zhao Changyu was an exception, because his memorial tablet was placed in the Imperial Palace and honored in the national rites; he was the very first to benefit from that.
And how many people were there like him, with no major faults, who could enjoy the offerings of the whole country?
Take Zhao Song: although Zhao Ming and Zhao Shen never forgot to burn paper for him every year, and he also received money and Telekinesis from other Zhao Family descendants during ancestral rites, after several decades his energy had still slowly declined, especially after Zhao Ming died of illness as well, which caused his annual offerings to drop significantly.
Zhao Hanzhang and Fu Tinghan were convinced the Ghost Immortals must have a cultivation system of their own, just like the techniques she used to train.
They wanted to learn it.
Zhao Hanzhang made no effort to hide her desire.
Reincarnation had nothing on the joy of being a Ghost Immortal.
Once she reincarnated, she would have a whole new experience and a whole new way of thinking, and at that point she would no longer be herself.
So, when you’re confident you can, you have to firmly seize your own future.
Right after Zhao Hanzhang borrowed money, she suddenly received offerings from the living world—far too many—so even though she was reluctant, she still dragged Fu Tinghan off to pay the money back.
"Ugh, if I’d known we were going to get this much in offerings, I wouldn’t have borrowed it yesterday." She’d shamelessly borrowed the money and then hadn’t used it at all—her heart ached.
Fu Tinghan was still hesitating. "Should we return it? Maybe we should wait a while. We still don’t know how much the research will cost."
Judging from his many years of research experience, money was something you could never have too much of; what if their offerings turned out to be insufficient?
If they had to borrow again, they’d have to go through another round of mental preparation.
Zhao Hanzhang said, "Let’s pay it back first. When I was alive I was constantly in debt. I’ve fully experienced what it feels like to owe money. I can’t go on being a ghost and still be in debt all the time."
Fu Tinghan listened to her.
The two ghosts went together to return the money.
Zhao Changyu received them with a gentle expression.
Although he was their grandfather, because Zhao Hanzhang had been the emperor, and now they were all dead—those past affairs, if not wholly dissolved, had at least mostly dispersed—Zhao Changyu treated them with the attitude of welcoming honored guests.
Zhao Changyu was very interested in the current situation in the living world. Even though he could learn of changes among the living from other newly arrived ghosts, what he really wanted was to hear it directly from Zhao Hanzhang.
The information other ghosts had was scattered and trivial; only Zhao Hanzhang, who had been emperor, had a comprehensive understanding of the country’s long-term plans and of all major affairs great and small.
Zhao Hanzhang had only been dead for two days, and during those two days she had been constantly absorbing new knowledge and new information; the world down below was just too fascinating. She hadn’t had time yet to speak with Zhao Changyu at length.
This time, grandfather and granddaughter talked for quite a while.
Having just become a ghost and suddenly saying so much, she didn’t quite realize it at first; after a while she would look around for tea, and then after another while she’d look for tea again.
Zhao Changyu brewed all the tea leaves he had, which weren’t many, to serve her tea.
Later, Zhao Hanzhang learned that ghosts like them did not lack for meat in the Underworld; what they lacked were vegetables, tea leaves, and similar things.
The living almost never offered such items to their ancestors.
Even as the emperor of a country, once you died you couldn’t just casually ask the living for things in a dream; you always had to pay a price.
She felt she still had a long time to spend among the living, so once she sensed the summons of the human emperor and had the chance to go up and send a dream, she spent extra to secure more time. After finishing the official matters, she made a request of her granddaughter: "Send me some tea. It doesn’t need to be anything rare—just the sort of tea your grandfather and I used to drink. And during the festivals, besides the five sacrificial animals, remember to offer us some fresh vegetables too..."
Zhao Hanzhang gave many instructions; she had no idea how much her granddaughter would remember from the dream.
The new emperor woke from the dream utterly dazed. Only after a long while did she recall the dream she’d just had. She immediately threw back her covers and got out of bed. "Attendants—"
There was no such thing as a secret in the Imperial Palace.
The next day, all the court officials knew that the new emperor had had a dream—she had dreamed of the previous emperor, who’d died only a year before.
It wasn’t just the officials; even the Supreme Emperor was baffled. How was it that her daughter could dream of the Founding Ancestor, yet she herself could not?
In court, the new emperor wept like a child, then related the dream to her officials in detail, concealing only the latter half.
After that imperial audience, the teetering new reforms were allowed to continue.
The civil and military officials were half and half on whether she truly dreamed of the former emperor.
Half believed she really had dreamed of the late emperor, since the prior sovereign had already hinted at such reforms during his life;
The other half thought this was merely a pretext the new emperor had found to push her reforms through.
But this excuse worked wonderfully; once the former emperor was invoked, almost no one in court dared oppose it.
Under the insistence of some of the opposing ministers, the new emperor chose an auspicious day and had the people of the Astronomical Observatory cast the divination.
Whether it was truly the late emperor’s protection, or whether the Astronomical Observatory simply got lucky, the outcome turned out to be an extremely auspicious hexagram—and there were heavenly anomalies as well. Though far less magnificent than the auspicious signs at the former emperor’s accession, they were still visible to the naked eye, and auspicious.
The new reforms were able to proceed smoothly.
Thrilled, the new emperor returned to the rear hall, and only then remembered the second half of the dream. She hesitated. "Could it really have been my grandmother visiting me in a dream last night?"
Her attendants of course replied, "It must be the late emperor’s blessing."
The new emperor frowned. "But my grandmother always loved meat. Before, she only restrained herself for the sake of her health. Now... how could she suddenly dislike meat and instead prefer vegetables and tea?"
Her attendants couldn’t think of any explanation either.
The new emperor felt this dream must have been born from what she thought about during the day: she wanted to carry out the new reforms, so in her dream she imagined the ancestors agreeing; as for those more detailed, more comprehensive measures that had appeared in the dream, those must be thoughts she’d had before that hadn’t yet taken shape. Her mind couldn’t consciously recall them, but once she slept, the ideas buried deep in her consciousness rose to the surface.
As for things like offering more vegetables and tea, that had to be the aftereffects of her constantly reminding her mother and grandmother to eat more vegetables and less meat.
Even though she thought this way, that night the new emperor still couldn’t resist sneaking off with her own tea canister to the Imperial Ancestral Hall. She placed the canister in front of her mother’s memorial tablet, lit incense, then sat on the cushion and spoke to her. "Grandmother, being emperor is really hard. After Mother passed the throne to me, she ran off, saying she was going to observe mourning for you, but she only stayed in the Imperial Mausoleum for half a year and now she’s already run off to the Northern Desert..."
She had thought that, after many years of serving as regent, she had already long since experienced the hardships of being emperor, but once she actually sat on that throne, she found that the pressure was a hundred times what it had been when she was just governing in someone else’s name.
If not for her years of regency, she would undoubtedly have shortened her lifespan by ten years in this first year of reign.
Especially after her mother abdicated, became Supreme Emperor, and then left, the pressure doubled again.
Zhao Changyu kept waiting—waiting until Zhao Hanzhang and Fu Tinghan gradually received offerings of tea and vegetables from the living world; waiting until, in the course of their research, they turned the Underworld into a bustling place; waiting until, in order to atone and to cultivate, they had to follow the ghost messengers to the living world, chains in hand, to seize souls, and unknowingly stepped into the path of cultivation.
Only then did he burst out laughing and go off to reincarnate.
The human world was at peace, Hell was orderly, the Underworld had its rules; he no longer had any obsessions.
This time, it was Zhao Hanzhang and Fu Tinghan who stood before the Naihe Bridge to see him off.

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