A heretical cultivator in Bureau 749, I'm the fiercest at pulling out tendons and skinning peop

Zhu Cheng stood there, clutching the talisman in his hand, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head, chilling him to the bone.

He looked down at the cinnabar runes on the talisman paper, which were still glowing faintly, like an engine that had just been activated.

But the problem is—

The engine started, but the car didn't move.

The decree did indeed take effect; he could feel the power flowing out through the talisman and landing precisely on Qi Qi.

The fact that the talisman reacted indicates that the imperial edict was indeed effective.

But Qiqi refused.

How the hell is that possible?

Once a decree is issued to a zombie, it must be carried out.

This is an ironclad rule, an inviolable law.

Just like you can't make water flow uphill, you can't make fire burn downhill, and you can't make the sun rise in the west.

Zhu Cheng's mind was buzzing.

He didn't understand.

He raised his head and looked at Qiqi.

Qi Qi stood behind Ji Zuodao, half of her body hidden in Ji Zuodao's shadow, only half of her face showing.

Her big eyes were quietly looking at him.

There was no fear, no anger, no resentment.

It was a very calm gaze, like looking at a stranger you don't know very well.

Zhu Cheng opened his mouth, wanting to ask "why", but swallowed the words back.

He felt he couldn't bring himself to ask.

Qiqi touched the talisman on her forehead. It had been there for so long that she had almost forgotten it existed.

Her voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear:

"Qiqi is clumsy; she can only do one thing at a time."

"The previous imperial edict was not yet completed in seven days."

Zhu Cheng's pupils suddenly contracted.

The previous imperial edict?

Did someone preemptively issue an imperial edict to Qiqi before he could?

His first glance fell on Ji Zuodao.

But what he saw was Ji Zuodao standing there, his expression changing from tension and ferocity to a relaxed look of relief.

not him?

Zhu Cheng's brows furrowed even more.

If it's not Ji Zuodao, then who is it?

Who would beat him to issuing an edict to Qiqi?

Qiqi continued, her voice very soft:

"Staying here these past few days, Qiqi has been remembering some things from the past."

She lowered her head, looked at her toes, and fell into memories.

That was a long time ago, a story she herself had forgotten.

Those things are like stones that have sunk to the bottom of the water. The water has been washing over them for hundreds of years, and the stones are covered with moss, making it impossible to see their original appearance.

But these past few days, living here in this magnificent Forbidden City, those stones have suddenly started to float up one by one.

She remembered a small coffin.

The coffin was very small, so small that she could touch the coffin lid with her legs outstretched.

She was so small that she would bump her elbow if she turned over, and she didn't even dare to cry too loudly, because the sound would echo in the coffin and hurt her ears.

She didn't know how long she had been in that small coffin.

It might be a few years, it might be decades, it might be even longer.

All she knew was that it was dark, narrow, and stuffy inside.

She cried.

She was just a child after all; she would cry when she was scared, when she was hungry, and when she missed her mother.

She cried out "Father Emperor," but no one answered.

She cried and shouted, "Someone, let Qiqi out!" but no one answered.

But she could hear the sounds outside.

She heard her father's voice coming from a great distance, through the coffin lid, through something heavy she couldn't understand.

The voice said, "For the sake of the Ming Dynasty, this is a necessary sacrifice."

She was young then and didn't quite understand what "sacrifice" meant.

All she knew was that her father's voice sounded tired and weary, as if he had used up all his strength to say those words.

Then she heard another voice.

She recognized the voice; it belonged to Grandpa Jianzheng.

Grandpa Jianzheng often came to tell her stories, about the stars in the sky, the mountains and rivers on the ground, and how vast the Ming Dynasty's empire was.

She loved listening to Grandpa Jianzheng tell stories because his voice was so pleasant, like a warm breeze that made her feel cozy inside.

But this time, Grandpa Jianzheng's voice was no longer warm.

The voice said, "This is Her Highness's destiny."

fate?

Qiqi tilted her head, thought for a moment, but still didn't quite understand.

All she knew was that after the two voices finished speaking, her body began to feel lighter and colder.

That kind of cold isn't the kind of cold you get from the wind in winter; it's a cold that seeps into your bones.

It felt like something was being slowly drawn out of her body.

She tried to grab those things, but she couldn't.

Those things slipped through her fingers like sand.

She felt her body getting lighter and lighter, as light as a feather, as if a gust of wind could blow her away.

She felt her eyes getting heavier and heavier, as if someone had placed a stone on her eyelids, making it impossible for her to open them.

She tried to shout, but no sound came out.

She wanted to cry, but no tears came out.

She wanted to move, but she couldn't.

She could only lie there, in that small coffin, feeling her body grow colder and colder, feeling her consciousness fade away, feeling herself transform from a living child into something.

A tool.

A tool prepared for the Ming Dynasty, for destiny, for some great cause she couldn't understand.

This is her last memory.

Then she fell asleep.

I slept for a very, very long time.

So long that she forgot her own name, forgot her parents, and forgot that she was once Princess Yongning of the Ming Dynasty.

So long that she thought she would never wake up again.

until that day.

A loud bang shattered her peaceful dream.

She opened her eyes and found herself lying in an unfamiliar coffin, her mind blank.

She didn't know who she was, where she came from, or why she was there.

All she knew was that she was awake.

All she knew was that she didn't want to go back into that little coffin.

Qi Qi's voice remained calm throughout, as if she were telling someone else's story, a story she had read in a book, a distant legend that had nothing to do with her.

Ke Ji Zuodao's eyes were already red.

That red wasn't from crying, it was from anger, it was from burning rage.

He crouched down and pulled Qiqi closer to him, one hand protecting her back as if he were protecting a frightened little animal.

He looked at Zhu Cheng with a gaze that seemed to want to devour him alive.

"Damn it."

Ji Zuodao spoke, his voice low, yet carrying a chilling edge squeezed out from between his teeth, like the north wind blowing in through a crack in the door on a cold winter's day:

"I'm still wondering which son was born without an anus and turned Qiqi into a zombie."

"So it turns out it was your Zhu family who did this."

He spat, and spittle almost flew onto Zhu Cheng's face.

"Damn it, what kind of bullshit destiny is this, that it has to be accomplished by sacrificing a child? Bah! Despicable!"