After transmigrating back, Rong Huanqing searches tirelessly for every clue she can find to uncover the truth about what happened years ago.
But it seems fate is pushing her, step by step, into an even deeper abyss.
“It's all fake. It's all fake! Hahahahaha!” Rong Huanqing murmurs over and over, as if she has gone mad.
Just then, the drums of the Heavenly Sacrifice thunder to life. Standing on the altar, Rong Huanqing laughs bitterly at herself in despair. Her helpless tears slide down her cheeks, only to evaporate at once. Wearing a dark green robe, she turns without hesitation and plunges into the abyss of flames.
“Holy Lord, the Holy Consort has been gone for many years. For the sake of Qingyue's future, we, your ministers, beg you to take Princess Nanshu as your consort, so she may soon bear heirs for our kingdom…”
A group of aged ministers kneel in the great hall. Their leader repeats again and again, “We beg the Holy Lord to take Princess Nanshu as his consort…” The other ministers echo his plea…
The figure seated on the throne slowly opens his eyes. A hint of murderous intent lurks in his deep gaze…
“Huanqing, I will find you again. Trust me…”
