Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Little Princess of the Jiang Dynasty

Having finally managed to gather a bit of spiritual energy using her portable space, Jiang Jiu soared directly into the air outside the palace hall. With her spiritual power shrouding her eyes, the detailed layout of half the city unfolded clearly before her.

A large horde of stiffly moving, pallid individuals with bluish-purple complexions surged at the pedestrians nearby, biting and tearing. From their bleeding wounds rose black smoke—it was poison, yet it also resembled a curse, or perhaps some sinister miasma possessing them.

This state of living dead was something Jiang Jiu had never witnessed before.

“Second Brother, bring a few capable soldiers and come with me to rescue people outside the city. Mother, Father, Eldest Brother, soon there will be a group brought into the palace; have the palace staff ready to receive them and prepare places to treat the wounded.”

Jiang Jiu used her spiritual power to preserve Shen Yueru’s body for the time being.

“Little Nine, what’s happening outside the city?”

Jiang Jiu didn’t answer, only cast a cold glance at Huaize. “Refining poison with corpses—reckless, ignorant, and brainless.”

Lin Shu knelt on the ground, desperately seeking forgiveness, but it was impossible.

Huaize finally realized the gravity of his mistake, yet he hadn’t developed an antidote—or rather, from the very start, when he concocted the corpse poison, he’d never intended to create one.

Beyond the imperial city, chaos reigned. Streets, alleys, shops—the undead feared neither sunlight, fire, nor water, and attacked anyone they saw.

Those bitten soon developed bruised, reddened wounds. Their fingernails and lips darkened to an inky purple, canine teeth grew into sharp fangs, and razor-like claws sprouted from their fingers—signs of infection.

Jiang Jiu distributed a handkerchief to each of Jiang Ling and the soldiers who volunteered to help. The air was thick with black mist—who knew if this could be transmitted by breathing?

Stalls were overturned, fruits and vegetables littered the streets, traces of struggle scattered everywhere. Some houses had water dripping from shattered windows, others bore scorch marks from fire.

“Little Nine, should we split up?”

“Let’s stay together. That way, when we encounter the undead, it’ll be easier to handle.”

As always, Jiang Jiu could ensure her own safe return, but not necessarily Jiang Ling and the others. Human lives were not to be treated lightly—what if she was too far to help in time?

Those she led out, she would bring back unharmed. That was her rule.

The rescued were temporarily settled in a discreet inn, and once their numbers grew, they would be transported to the palace.

Jiang Jiu’s spiritual energy reserves were low—her farsight could not be used often. Fortunately, even without it, she still had her cheat: Little Rascal.

Though it called itself a system, after its last upgrade and the first task, there hadn’t been a second. Had it broken down?

[Master, the system isn’t broken. The program crashed, but the Lord God is working on a fix!]

So that was it.

With Little Rascal’s guidance, Jiang Jiu’s group successfully avoided all areas where the undead might be lurking, gathering the townsfolk one household at a time and ushering them into the palace.

Night fell quickly. Perhaps out of guilt, Huaize warned Jiang Jiu against going out after dark—the undead doubled in strength and speed at night.

Jiang Jiu was exasperated.

“Honestly, big brother, I’m speechless. Not only can you not distinguish friend from foe, you insist on playing with dangerous things. Haven’t you heard of playing with fire and getting burned? Must you wait until your own house is ablaze before crying out in pain?”

The outer hall was packed with people huddled together for warmth. Old feuds between neighbors dissolved in the face of disaster. Inside were warriors wounded in the day’s battles with black-clad foes, and the imperial physicians tended to them.

Within a day, after witnessing Jiang Jiu’s abilities, everyone regarded her as the core—the King and Queen were secondary.

Human gratitude is shallow; those who save us or do us a kindness become precious in our eyes.

After a circuit to ensure no infected had been brought in, Jiang Jiu sat in meditation, refining more spiritual energy.

With Little Rascal’s help, she set a barrier around the entire imperial city. Now, except for the capital, no other city would be attacked by the undead—unless Jiang Jiu died and the barrier broke.

The stars above were breathtakingly beautiful, but no one had the heart to admire them.

“Princess, my father will be alright, won’t he?”

Jiang Jiu felt her skirt tugged into a wrinkle. Looking down, she saw the little girl she had rescued earlier; her mother wept silently behind her.

The girl’s father had been dragged off by the undead while protecting his wife and daughter—by now, likely infected.

There were many such stories—some lost mothers, some fathers, some both. Yet all shared a common purpose: to protect their children, drawing danger away with their own bodies. To their children, they were gods—guardian spirits.

Jiang Jiu crouched down, her crimson dress pooling on the ground, and gently embraced the girl. “Don’t be afraid. Your father will return safely, because I will always protect this city…”

A childish voice whispered in her ear, “Sister, are you a fairy?”

Jiang Jiu patted her back. “What do you think?”

The little girl scampered into her mother’s arms and whispered, “Mama, the princess is a fairy from the heavens, here just to save us! She said papa will come back safely!”

Her mother hugged her tight, tears glimmering in her eyes, and offered Jiang Jiu a grateful smile.

Jiang Jiu watched the scene quietly.

If there were no disasters, no wars, no hatred or resentment in this world, how beautiful and lovable it would be.

She ordered her maids to fetch all the spare bedding from the harem, distributing quilts to every child, pregnant woman, and elderly person.

Adults could endure the cold for a night—it was summer, after all, and fires burned everywhere in the outer hall. For the robust men, a little chill was nothing.

The palace usually practiced thrift, so provisions were abundant—a small mercy.

Inside the inner hall, the floor was crowded with the wounded—those who had defended the palace. Some became heroes with only one arm, others hobbled on a single leg, some lost their sight forever.

A court physician, bent with age, approached Jiang Jiu. “Princess, the pills you gave us were remarkably effective, but, but…”

“There are none left?”

He nodded. The casualties were too many; all ten bottles she’d provided had gone to the most urgent cases, but were quickly exhausted.

Suddenly, twenty or thirty identical pill bottles appeared on the ground!

The old physician rubbed his eyes in disbelief. The princess was actually an alchemist—how extraordinary!

“Take these and use them. If it’s not enough, come find me.”

The physician, overcome with gratitude, fell to his knees. “Thank you, Your Highness! Your name will live forever!”

Jiang Jiu nodded.

[Master, are you sure this is wise…?] Little Rascal’s tone was ambiguous.

[What, you object?] Jiang Jiu replied nonchalantly.

Indeed, all these pills were courtesy of the Little Rascal brand.

Little Rascal: Ha! You call it a courtesy—wasn’t it you threatening me with your authority as a space resident?