Chapter Eight: The Story of Rong Jiang

"Information... Bai Yu..."

For the first time, Shang Jiuya truly understood that in this treacherous palace fraught with danger, a seemingly insignificant piece of information could be the dividing line between life and death. That frail little palace maid had, in a way, become the only piece of driftwood she could cling to at that moment.

However, heavy footsteps sounded again outside the hall, each step like a hammer pounding on the cold ground, and also striking at Shang Jiuya's heartstrings, which had just begun to ease.

Her heart clenched, and an ominous premonition instantly enveloped her.

Two fierce-looking demon generals strode in without waiting for the guards at the door to announce their arrival, their gazes fixed unabashedly on Shang Jiuya, who was curled up on the soft couch.

One of the demon generals simply nodded slightly as a gesture of respect, saying, "Your Majesty, I have come to deliver a message on the orders of the Sixth Prince."

Shang Jiuya's fingertips instantly turned icy cold, even colder than when she thought of Guan Shanyue. Qi Mu! Why would her sixth brother, who was so powerful and tyrannical in her memories, suddenly come looking for her? Eleventh Sister... Yes, it must be Eleventh Sister! That spoiled and willful twelfth sister, who didn't find any amusement with her and instead got a cold shoulder, turned around and went to complain to her doting sixth brother.

The demon continued, “His Highness instructed me to remind His Majesty to stay quietly in the Purple Light Palace to recuperate, avoid causing trouble, and refrain from 'talking' with irrelevant people. The Demon Lord's position is noble and requires tranquility. If any unnecessary disturbances disturb His Highness's peace and quiet…” He paused, his cold gaze sweeping over Shang Jiuya's pale face and her trembling fingers, which were slightly shaking with fear, “…His Highness wouldn't mind personally helping His Majesty to 'truly' find some peace and quiet.”

As soon as he finished speaking, another demon general took a step forward with a loud thud, his heavy iron boots shattering a dark glazed tile on the floor.

They didn't say another word, turned and left, their heavy footsteps fading into the distance, leaving behind a deathly silence in the hall.

Shang Jiuya felt a chill run through her body. If Guan Shanyue's threat was a finely packaged poison, then Qi Mu's warning was a blood-stained butcher's knife—brutal and direct, yet far more impactful and intimidating.

She had no doubt that if she did anything "out of line" again, the next thing to come wouldn't be a message, but a sword that would actually take her life.

The pitiful "hope" and "planning" that had just arisen because of Bai Yu now seemed so laughable and so vulnerable.

Even if… even if she could evade a minor illusion, even if she could obtain a sliver of information, what then? Guan Shanyue's poison, Shiyi Niang's malice, and now Qi Mu's blatant threat of violence… the omnipresent spies within the hall, the watchful eyes of her brothers, sisters, and elders outside… each obstacle was an insurmountable mountain. She was like a flying insect trapped in a spiderweb; every struggle only tightened the tangled threads, attracting the attention of even more powerful predators.

Is it really possible to survive?

A suffocating sense of powerlessness, like the perpetually gloomy sky of the demon realm, pressed down heavily. She slowly closed her eyes, burying her face in her cold palms, trying to isolate herself from this despairing world.

She wanted to give up, perhaps accepting her fate and disappearing silently like the original owner of this body. Would that be a relief? At least she wouldn't have to endure this endless fear and torment anymore.

Just as the thought of giving up on herself was about to drown her last bit of consciousness like icy seawater, another figure uncontrollably appeared in her mind.

It wasn't anyone from this demon palace.

Instead, it was Rong Jiang.

That "daughter" she was heartbroken for, cheering for, and rewarding on the sofa before she transmigrated. That heroine in "The Road to the Underworld," who struggled and rose from a nobody to a heroine.

Once the floodgates of memory are opened, they can never be closed again.

She recalled Rong Jiang's bewilderment when she first entered the underworld, being bullied by evil spirits and chased by ghost messengers, like a helpless soul fleeing in panic across a wasteland filled with blood moons and wailing cries, which seemed not much better than her current situation...

She recalled the extreme agony of Rong Jiang being forced to jump into the River of Oblivion, the torment of countless souls devouring her. The icy river water, the tearing and devouring of countless ferocious remnants of souls, the torture of her soul being ripped apart and annihilated inch by inch... what despair and pain that must have been! Compared to that, her own physical weakness and fear at this moment seemed... somewhat pale.

But Rong Jiang did not give up.

Even in that desperate situation, Rong Jiang never just wanted to curl up and wait for death like she is now. Rong Jiang roared in pain, struggled in despair, and her eyes burned with the flames of resentment and hatred. She could even seize that almost non-existent opportunity at the bottom of the River of Oblivion, stubbornly survive, and begin to accumulate strength little by little.

She recalled how Rong Jiang carefully avoided stronger ghosts, how she exploited loopholes in the rules of the underworld, how she traded small amounts of resources for survival, and how she befriended those "allies" who were also at the bottom of society but each had their own story—the taciturn ferryman who always helped at crucial moments, and the seemingly greedy but unexpectedly loyal information broker…

Every step Rong Jiang took was fraught with danger, like walking on thin ice, a hundred times more perilous than her current situation. Rong Jiang also felt fear, got hurt, and faced death countless times.

But Rong Jiang never truly gave in.

That ruthlessness, that tenacity to climb out no matter how deep the mud you're stuck in, that madness to tear a piece of flesh from the enemy even when you're covered in wounds...

Shang Jiuya suddenly opened her eyes.

Inside his chest, his heart, which had been almost frozen by fear and despair, suddenly began to beat violently.

If Rong Jiang can do it, why can't you?!

A voice screamed wildly in her heart, like a thunderclap.

Rong Jiang is just a character in a novel, while you are a living, breathing person. Rong Jiang faces the malice of various forces in the underworld, while you face at least known, tangible enemies. Rong Jiang, having nothing, can still struggle to survive, while you, at least, have the shell of a Demon Lord (even if it's just an empty shell), a nominal supreme position (even if it's just a puppet), and even... a seemingly insignificant but crucial piece of information, Bai Yu, who might pledge allegiance to you.

What makes you think you can give up? What makes you think you can just sit here and wait to die?!

She recalled how, before she transmigrated, she had passionately shouted in the comments section, "Go, daughter!" and "Mommy loves you!"—that kind of costless encouragement and support across the screen. And now, when she herself was trapped in a similar, or perhaps even more perilous, predicament than Rong Jiang's, all she wanted to do was cry and wait to die?

How ridiculous! How pathetic!

Shang Jiuya suddenly stood up from the soft couch. Because of the sudden movement, her vision went black for a moment, and her weak body swayed. But she gritted her teeth, grabbed the window frame, and steadied herself.

She raised her head, a fierce light igniting in her eyes, and looked out the window at the dim and distorted sky of the demon realm.

Yes.

She cannot die. At least, she cannot die like this, meaninglessly and silently, in this cold palace.

Those who wanted her dead—Ao Li, Qi Mu, Guan Shanyue, Shiyi Niang, You Chi, Gong Liang… and those who stood by indifferently, or even fueled the flames—they were not worthy! They were not worthy to decide her life or death so easily!

In the soul of modern society, the resilience honed by KPIs and overtime, the stubbornness hidden beneath the exterior of a corporate slave, the unwillingness to be mediocre, was completely ignited at this moment by Rong Jiang's story. It merged with the original owner of this body's remaining unwillingness and will to survive, turning into a weak but incredibly tenacious flame.

She has to live!

It's not just about breathing, it's about barely surviving!

She wanted to struggle and resist like Rong Jiang!

A vague yet firm idea began to grow wildly in her mind—information. Power. Allies.

Bai Yu was the first step. She provided information that proved the feasibility of this path.

So what's next? She needs more. She needs to understand the operating rules of this demon palace, she needs to know which forces she can leverage, and she needs to find those who are also suppressed and could become "allies"... just like the ferryman and information broker that Rong Jiang found in the underworld.

She even began to miss the novel terribly, missing Rong Jiang's subsequent experiences—how did Rong Jiang become stronger step by step? How did she manipulate the rules and people's hearts? Could those methods and techniques... be applied to this world?

The thought made her heart pound.

Although the worlds are different and the power systems are different, the essence of human nature, power struggles, and the struggle for survival may be the same.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror—a face that was still pale and weak, but seemed to have gained a glimmer of life because of the flames burning in its eyes.

This pale face was more exquisite than her original features. It wasn't Shang Jiuya's face before, but now it was.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms, bringing a sharp pain that reminded her of the reality of the moment.

Fear still lingered, but now, a more intense emotion overwhelmed it—it was resentment, anger, and a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve born from being driven to the brink.

“Rong Jiang…” she said silently, her lips moving as she looked at herself in the mirror, “What you can do… I can do too.”

"Just wait..." Her gaze swept out of the palace, as if she could see through the many palace walls and see the figures who wanted her dead. "I will never... sit idly by and wait to die!"

The first vague plan began to take shape in her mind with difficulty, but with unwavering determination.

First and foremost, she had to survive.

Then, she needed to find out who had given her that poisoned wine.

Finally... she will make everyone who wants her dead pay the price!

Inside the Purple Light Palace, the eerie blue demonic fire still flickered coldly.

But deep within the heart of the figure huddled by the window, a flame that would never be extinguished had already been kindled.