HCAW 1

Chapter 1: The Sand-Dwelling Fiend

Yellow sands stretched endlessly, smoke and dust churning across the expanse. Beneath the blazing midday sun, rows of cavalry surged into the desert like arrows, murderous aura thick in the air.

At the head of the formation rode a burly man with broad lips and high cheekbones—the captain of the unit. Draped in leather and armed with a bow, he scanned the surroundings with alert eyes beneath two sharp, sword-like brows. Ahead, the desert sprawled endlessly, obscuring the path forward. No word yet from the scouts, no sign of the enemy.

Suddenly, a fierce wind swept through, scattering the sand and twisting it into a snarling, demon-like visage. The riders shuddered involuntarily, fear creeping into their bones—for the foe they sought was no ordinary man, but a fiend so vicious and ruthless he was known in the world as the King Yama of the Living.

More than twenty years ago, that so-called “King Yama” emerged from nowhere. He brazenly infiltrated the imperial mausoleum, defiled tombs and corpses, and stole away the body of the late emperor. Ten years ago, he raided the village of Milu, leaving behind mountains of bones and blood-soaked soil. Eight years ago, he traveled to the distant island of Yingzhou, causing the deaths of nearly a hundred border soldiers at sea. Three years ago, he colluded with the heretical sect Da Yuan Dao¹The Grand Path Of Perfection, bringing ruin and death to thousands of innocent households. Wherever this man passed, the land was reduced to a hellish wasteland.

And just one day ago, this “King Yama” had fled into the great desert of Jiwei, vanishing within.

“Captain, there’s still no word from the scouts. Should we advance or retreat?” someone asked urgently.

The captain’s face was grave, sweat glinting on his bronzed skin. “Hold the horses! Send out two more riders—spread out and climb high for a better view. We must find a trace of him!”

The wind and sand howled more fiercely now, dense and oppressive like a stampede of beasts. Two riders broke from the ranks and galloped off into the distance.

Grains of sand clattered against the captain’s po-yi²A legendary beast known as po-yi, described in ancient texts as having nine tails and four ears. bow, whispering with eerie insistence. This bow, made from the horns of the nine-tailed, four-eared beast, granted its wielder fearlessness. And indeed, the captain was a mighty warrior among the Penglai cavalry, renowned for his strength and deadly accuracy. He had defended the Spring Gate outpost for over a decade, his arms like forged steel, capable of drawing the mightiest war bows, and had slain tigers, leopards, and bears alike with ease. Yet now, cold sweat streamed down his back, dread gnawing at his heart.

A young soldier, recently enlisted, noticed his fear and stammered, “My lord, I’ve never seen this ‘King Yama’ in person. What… what does he look like?”

The sunlight dimmed. The captain’s gaze darkened with it. In a trembling voice, he replied:

“No one has seen his face.”

“N-no one?”

“Because all who have met him are now dead,” the captain said. “Only one sentry glimpsed him during the battle on Yingzhou eight years ago. He had hidden beneath a corpse and barely escaped death. But after returning, his mind was shattered. He went mad, and from then on, he only repeated two phrases. One was: ‘The gods return, kneel and bow.’”

“What was the other?”

“The other was…” The captain’s face froze, as if coated in frost. “‘When the Yama’s arrow sings, the soul is taken.’”

Suddenly, the wind shifted. A sharp cry pierced the air like an eagle’s scream.

No—it was sharper than that, like a blade slicing through the sky. A black shadow streaked across their vision, swifter than a falling star, mightier than any mortal force. In the blink of an eye, the two scouting riders jolted violently—then toppled from their horses.

The men stared in shock, hastily drawing their waist blades. The captain grabbed his rattan shield and rode forward. There he found the two scouts lying on the ground, both clutching their right shoulders, groaning in pain. One had half an arrow shaft lodged between the seams of his armor, blood soaking the fletching. On the nock was etched a delicate, bright-red Arrow Flower.

The moment the captain saw the arrow, his expression changed dramatically. He roared, “Form up! Shields!”

He remembered a faded mural he’d once seen in a remote temple—countless anguished souls prostrated before the Five Courts, with King Yama seated high in the center. That Yama had a pale, smooth face, wore an imperial crown with dangling beads, and at his waist hung a scented pouch embroidered with the Arrow Flower. These flowers bloomed along the path to the afterlife. In Sanskrit, they were called Manjusaka³ Manjusaka (曼殊沙華): The Sanskrit name for the red spider lily, also called the “flower of the other shore.” In East Asian mythology, it is said to bloom on the path to the afterlife.—undeniable proof of the Yama King’s presence.

And that arrow, shot by the King himself, had pierced one man’s shoulder blade and struck the man behind him. Such strength was beyond imagining.

But before the captain could finish his thoughts, another piercing cry shattered the air. A spray of blood erupted beside him. He spun in alarm—another man had fallen from his horse. The arrow had come from a different direction, and had pierced clean through his armor.

This was the Yama’s arrow—its cry meant the reaper was near, and yet they still could not find where he was!

The storm of sand raged like crashing waves, and panic churned in the hearts of the soldiers. They glanced around in fear. The howling wind drowned out the sound of hooves. Should they press forward step by step—or raise their shields and hold their ground?

The captain made a decision. “Fall back to the high ground!” he shouted.

He hadn’t expected the mission to go awry from the outset. They weren’t far from their base camp. Could it be that the “King Yama” had been lurking at the desert’s edge for days? But before he could dwell on it, a sudden gust struck his face with brutal force.

The curtain of sand split open briefly—and a shadow appeared in his gaze.

That figure stood faint and wavering beyond the dunes. A lone rider, bow in hand, the sunlight dancing on the arrowhead.

A wave of dread surged through the captain’s chest—that was King Yama. The thrill of finally seeing him was short-lived. The wind and sand surged again, obscuring the figure once more. But in that fleeting moment, the captain had caught a glimpse of King Yama’s eyes.

And in that instant, he understood why the sole survivor of Zhenhai Pass had gone mad.

Because those were the eyes of a demon—eyes that could only belong to something inhuman. They burned with rage, flickered like ghostfire, and struck terror into the soul of anyone who saw them.

That gaze was like a blade, piercing through the sand and aiming straight at him.

“My lord, look out!” someone shouted in panic.

But it was already too late.

The next arrow flew with a scream like an eagle’s cry. The captain saw the gleaming arrowhead speeding toward him. The Arrow Flower at the nock bloomed like a demonic flame.

In that moment, the captain’s mind went blank. The arrowhead grew ever closer. The Yama’s cry was impossible to evade.

And that was the last image he ever saw.

After that—only darkness.

• 1
  The Grand Path Of Perfection
• 2
  A legendary beast known as po-yi, described in ancient texts as having nine tails and four ears.
• 3
  Manjusaka (曼殊沙華): The Sanskrit name for the red spider lily, also called the “flower of the other shore.” In East Asian mythology, it is said to bloom on the path to the afterlife.