“Your Majesty, the bridegroom has been brought.”

“Mm.”

A languid, lazy voice.

Though just one syllable, simple as could be, the Ghost Emperor’s voice was undeniably melodious—aloof, regal.

She remained seated, one leg crossed, body tilted. Left elbow propped on the armrest, fist cradling her chin: the picture of lazy elegance.

Leaning slightly, she dipped just enough for Zhong Cheng to see her nose.

Like a miniature jade peak—sharp, refined, sculpted with delicate precision.

Paired with slender, alluring lips and a seductive beauty mark, utterly captivating.

Yet under the eerie green-tinged flames, her skin appeared ghastly pale, the faint curve of her lips hinting at something sinister.

Zhong Cheng felt no panic—only curiosity.

“So you are the bridegroom, Zhong Cheng? Your looks are indeed pleasing,” the Ghost Emperor remarked.

“Why aren’t you speaking?”

After a silent pause, her tone cooled with displeasure.

Suddenly, icy cold seized Zhong Cheng’s body. His chest tightened as if crushed by stone—breath trapped, suffocating.

Damn it!

He couldn’t speak—he couldn’t move! Why punish him without cause? Trying to murder your own groom?

At this rate… he’d die.

His face flushed dark crimson, blood surging violently.

Thankfully, the Ghost Emperor sensed it. She halted the pressure, releasing him.

“Huh. Still bound? Couldn’t speak? Wang Nima—how incompetent! Making me wrongly accuse him. Did you plan to humiliate me?” Her voice turned glacial.

“Your Majesty, it was a misunderstanding! I never meant to—” The Big-Headed Ghost knelt hastily.

*So its name’s Wang Nima. Fitting,* Zhong Cheng thought dryly.

“If not intentional… then deliberate?”

No chance to defend himself. With a casual wave, the kneeling ghost’s head exploded.

Red and green gore splattered the floor.

Thud.

The headless corpse collapsed straight down.

Blood spray dotted Zhong Cheng’s robes.

Nausea twisted his gut. Even looking away, the metallic stench clung.

This dream was damn too real.

Other specters watched silently—unmoved, accustomed to their ruler’s cruelty.

The restraining force vanished. Whether from Wang Nima’s death or her mercy, Zhong Cheng could move again.

He lifted his head, gazing up. *Please don’t be beautiful below the nose and monstrous above.*

His eyes widened slightly—astonished, captivated.

She was stunning.

A mature, elegant beauty perfectly matching his taste.

Crimson hair spilled over her shoulders. A refined diamond-shaped face. Eyes glowing with eerie red light, lashes long and subtly upturned like solitary reeds.

Even lazy, her icy, breathtaking beauty shone through.

And—definitely a D-cup.

*This* was the Ghost Emperor? Not green-faced with fangs, terrifying enough to silence crying children?

“Staring blankly at me. Do I look ugly?” She smirked.

The beauty mark by her lips lent her smile an indescribable, bewitching allure.

“N-not ugly… very beautiful,” Zhong Cheng stammered honestly.

“Smooth-talker. Hoping for certain… unmentionable acts with me?”

“If possible… I wouldn’t mind.”

*It’s just a dream. Why not a romantic one?*

Since she wasn’t a monster but a goddess—he could go for it!

“Heh.”

Her expression turned icy. The hall’s air chilled; everyone sat on pins and needles.

An immense force slammed Zhong Cheng to his knees—spine bent, breath stolen.

Wait—wasn’t this a romantic dream? Breakneck pace, sudden twist… utterly unexpected.

“You villagers arranged this wedding without consent. Now lewd thoughts? Bold,” she hissed.

“I didn’t—I’m not… Wait! It’s a dream! Why am I backing down? Why can’t I break free?” Zhong Cheng flustered.

*It’s a dream. Charge recklessly!*

He rejected nightmares—he wanted romance!

“A dream? No wonder you were bold. Heh.” Her smirk deepened. “I must tell you: this is not a dream. It is reality.”

“And I should believe you? Feels like a dream, yet so vivid.”

Frowning, she snorted. A flick of her wrist yanked him helplessly beside her.

*Slap. Slap.*

Crisp, sharp strikes. Too fast to react.

Zhong Cheng clutched his swelling cheek, wincing. Jolted awake—more alert than after icy mint candy and two cans of Blue Bull.

Damn it! Dreams don’t hurt this much! His handsome face…

*This isn’t a dream.*

The grotesque specters were real. The cruel Ghost Emperor was real.

Glancing at Wang Nima’s headless corpse, goosebumps erupted. Pupils shrank to pinpricks. Face pale as paper, coated in ten layers of foundation.

He’d just suggested… *unmentionable acts* with her?

Strolling straight down the road to self-destruction.

Seeing him tremble, ghastly white, the Ghost Emperor smirked, satisfied.

“I’m sorry! I thought it was a dream…”

“So now—do you still want those… unmentionable acts?”

“No! Never!”

“Do you find me ugly?”

“No! Not at all!”

“Then why not? We exchanged vows. Wouldn’t certain acts be… normal?”

“The villagers acted on feudal superstitions! I’m a victim! I knew nothing of this ghost marriage!”

Under her sarcastic probing, tears welled. He turned away.

Her smile—once alluring—now felt like a crocodile’s: cold, cruel.

Unpredictable. Brutal. He wanted nothing to do with her.

She wasn’t human. She was a ghost.

One life. Cherish it. Avoid danger.

No way. No way.

As a materialist socialist, his worldview lay shattered.

Weren’t spirits forbidden after the nation’s founding? Then what *was* this?

Demons and specters filled the hall—horrifying, chilling.

Love is truly dead.

Too tired to love.

Mortal realm or underworld? Had he been dragged into the netherworld?

Trembling uncontrollably, the newbie froze.