PART ONE: THE GHOST REALM
The screams echoed again.
The servants lined the corridor like statues, faces bowed, hearts heavy. Behind the sealed chamber doors, they could hear everything—the whip, the gasps, the silence that followed each lash. But none dared move. No one interrupted the Ghost King when he was "teaching" his daughter.
Jang Yun Li—only fourteen—was the youngest of the King's five children. The only girl. Fragile in frame, and also weaker than any of them. Her brothers said nothing now. Not even they were bold enough to question the King's fury when it fell on her.
Inside the chamber, the air was thick with smoke and rage.
Yun Li was on her knees, back bare, blood trailing down her spine like crimson threads. Her breath was shallow. Her arms trembled. She screamed loudly, sending cold shivers down the spine of the servants outside his Highness's chambers.
CRACK!
The blue lightning whip snapped again, dancing across her skin.
"You disappoint me!" the Ghost King bellowed, standing tall like a shadow of war. His dark robes flickered like fire, and his cold, sea-dark eyes burned with fury.
"You dare to speak against me? Against your own father?!"
She bit her tongue. Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. Trying to stop the flowing tears.
"I have raised empires from ashes!" he roared." I have crushed gods! And my own daughter—my blood—can't even master a basic cultivation stance?"
CRACK!
This one drove her forward. Her face hit the floor, but she didn't stay down. She pushed herself up slowly, weakly.
It had been over an hour.
"Apologize!" he growled.
She stayed silent.
The whip buzzed again—angrier this time.
"I said apologize!"
"...I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
The Ghost King exhaled slowly. A satisfied silence fell. He stepped back and lowered the whip.
Then he sat on his throne—tall, cold, eternal.
"No rest," he said darkly. "Begin cultivating. Now."
Yun Li closed her eyes briefly. Her muscles screamed. Her back burned. Her bones begged for rest.
But she obeyed.
She sat cross-legged, trembling, blood soaking through her robes. Her fingers moved into the cultivation seal. Her spirit core—still fragile—flickered under strain. She could barely hold the energy.
The Ghost King watched in silence, the whip still in his hand.
Ready to strike at the first mistake.
To him, this was love. Brutal, twisted, absolute.
To her, this was survival.
The servants outside still stood quietly, heads bowed.
One maid dared to whisper under her breath.
"Poor child… she won't survive another winter at this rate."
But the others said nothing.
In the Ghost Realm, sympathy was dangerous.
And love always hurt.
Yun Li didn't dare tremble—not with his gaze on her.
The Ghost King sat in silence, watching her every breath, every twitch. His fingers tapped the electric whip resting across his lap. One mistake, and she knew the crack would come again.
So she focused.
Her spirit core, bruised and fragile, spun weakly in her chest. Her vision blurred. The energy around her was thick, choking—but she kept going.
Minutes turned into hours.
Then—a pulse.
A warm, unfamiliar surge burst from within. It was faint. Small. But it was enough.
Breakthrough!.
A soft hum echoed from her body as her core flickered into a new shape. Her limbs relaxed involuntarily. Her shoulders dropped. She had done it.
She had become a Rank One Ghost Immortal.
Still the weakest. But stronger than she had been.
The Ghost King narrowed his eyes. No smile. No praise.
"You may leave."
Yun Li bowed weakly and staggered out. The whip never moved.
She collapsed into the arms of the waiting servants outside.
"Careful!" one of them hissed, steadying her as she nearly fell.
"Quick, get the medicine salve."
Another servant—an older woman with graying hair—began treating the wounds on Yun Li's back. Her hands were gentle, practiced.
"You held on longer than last time," the woman whispered. "He's getting harsher."
"I… broke through," Yun Li muttered.
The woman paused. Then smiled, softly.
"You did?"
Yun Li nodded.
"…You're still just a child," another servant said under his breath. "He's trying to mold you into a weapon."
A rare silence passed. Yun Li's eyes began to water. She hated her life, she only wanted to pour out her misery as she hugged the servants tightly and cried out.
Flashback:
She hadn't cried like this since her seventh winter.
Back then, her mother was still alive—soft hands, silver laughter, jasmine-scented robes.
Yun Li remembered curling into her mother's lap, warm silk and firelight around them, as the snow fell outside their quiet chamber. Her mother had hummed an old lullaby from the mortal realm. Something about moonlight and rain.
That night, her mother vanished.
Some said she fled. Others said she was erased.
Yun Li never asked. She was too afraid of the answer.
Present.
The servants felt deep pity for her, as they thought desperately what to do, in order to cheer up the princess.
The next day, the servants did something forbidden.
They snuck her out.
Disguised in plain black robes, hood up, wounds wrapped, Yun Li followed them past the inner halls into the misty outskirts of the palace. No guards. No rules.
They took her to the market square in the outer city—glowing with ghost fire, lanterns, floating spirit crystals. Ghost children laughed. Young cultivators chased spirit moths through the streets. Vendors sold memory drinks and soul-thread necklaces.
It's been long since the servants had seen her this excited. They were extremely happy.
"Where are those mortals from again?" Yun Li asked, sipping a strange glowing drink that warmed her throat.
"Earth," one servant said. "It's the mortal realm. Their world is noisy, weak, soft… but free."
Free?
The word lingered in her chest like a forbidden treasure.
A place where her father wasn't king.
Where she wouldn't be watched every second. Judged. Beaten.
Where she could just… breathe.
All night, as the ghostly moon drifted above, Yun Li's mind was filled with one desire.
I want to go there.
I want to escape.
But even she knew the truth:
With her cultivation so low… and her father's eyes everywhere… her chances were near impossible.
But still, she dreamed.