HCAW 62

Chapter 62 – Flower-Lined Paths and Willow-Shaded Lanes

Vengeance! Vengeance!

That single thought pounded in Yan Xin’s chest like a second heartbeat. The Yu Jue Guard had once told him, no matter how storm-wracked and dark Yingzhou became, as long as a spark burned within one’s heart, one could endure any bitter cold.

But Yan Xin knew well—what burned in his chest now was not the flame the Yu Jue Guard spoke of. This was the fire of hatred, fierce enough to consume his entire being.

In an instant, he was like a caged beast, cradling the corpses of his wife and daughter, roaring and crashing about the front hall of Qingyu Gao Palace. No trace of Yu Ji Guard could be seen, and he became like a clown in some cruel performance—everything he did was in vain, merely provoking laughter from the old man watching from behind the curtain. He tried to rush into the rear hall, but soldiers blocked him, pinning him roughly to the ground so he could go no further.

Yan Xin screamed in despair. Under the pouring rain, he limped from the palace, dragging the two cold bodies with him. In the space of a breath, it was as if his spine had snapped—he looked as though he’d aged decades.

“Yu Ji Guard… Yu Ji Guard!” he howled. “I’m going to kill you, you old bastard!”

But no one answered his blood-soaked cry. The surging waves of the Ming Sea swallowed the accumulated bones of Yingzhou day after day—his wife and daughter would now become just a few more among them, buried forever beneath the sea.

He knelt in the rain for a long time. Eventually, he found a small reed boat and laid Ah Chu and their child inside. Slowly, he washed the blood from their bodies with seawater. Yingzhou had no soil—this would be their coffin. As darkness fell, he sat motionless, the night pressing down like a giant coffin lid from the heavens, sealing him inside. Ah Chu was dead, and it felt like his own soul had gone with her.

He sat there for a long time, growing cold. Slowly, he remembered the “King Yama’s” head he’d abandoned at Qingyu Gao Palace. It hadn’t been Chu Kuang’s head—it was one he’d hesitated over for hours, finally selecting from a heap of corpses. He had Ling’er disguise it with paint, hoping to fool Yu Ji Guard.

Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to harm a comrade. But Yu Ji Guard would never hesitate like he did. All Yan Xin had wanted was to wait for sunshine in Yingzhou, grow old beside Ah Chu, and quietly live out his years. But in the end, all of that had been for nothing.

Dark clouds gathered, wind lashed rain through the sky. Yan Xin, like a soul lost, dragged himself toward the Fenglin ship.

Outside the Fenglin, he collapsed to his knees and banged his head on the planks, shouting hoarsely, “This humble one, Yan Xin, begs an audience with the Ruyi Guard!”

A childish yet cold voice called from within the cabin, “Come in.”

It was as though he were being pulled by invisible ropes. Hunched over, he entered the Fenglin ship. Inside was clean and bright. The girl with the tiger-head hood sat in a redwood chair, gazing at him serenely. An old woman sat beside her—the two had clearly been chatting moments earlier. The girl looked as if she didn’t even see him and murmured, “Yu Ji Guard remains as stubborn as ever. He took all those people and still released most of them. Do you know what became of the soldiers from Lei Ze Camp he captured?”

It seemed she was talking to herself, not addressing Yan Xin directly. The old woman beside her smiled and said, “They say Yu Ji Guard ordered them bound hand and foot, stuffed into wicker baskets, and lowered into the sea. Those who could free themselves underwater lived. Those who couldn’t… became ballast stones for eternity.”

Yan Xin’s whole body shook.

He dropped to his knees with a thud, blood running down his forehead as he slammed it to the floor. “Ruyi Guard, I beg you! Please help me!”

But the girl coldly replied, “No chance.”

Yan Xin froze—he hadn’t even said what he came to ask. The girl continued, “You want me to go deal with that old rooster, don’t you? I’ve long since retired. I won’t get involved.”

“But… but I heard you once fought Yu Ji Guard head-on! That you turned the tide in the direst hour, that your arrows never missed, that you’re the greatest elder in all Yingzhou—only you can save us!”

“Ridiculous. That was then. This is now!” the girl suddenly shouted, eyes wide and fierce. Her small body seemed to erupt with sparks—her voice thundered like lightning. “I swore long ago never to take up a bow again! What good would fighting Yu Ji Guard do for me?”

Her tone turned harsh. As if Yan Xin had torn open an old wound, she suddenly radiated a force like a towering mountain, leaving him breathless. Only then did he remember—this was no ordinary little girl. She was one of the mighty Xian Mountain Guards.

He tried to speak again, to plead further. But she waved a hand to silence him. The conversation was over. Yan Xin had no choice but to grit his teeth and leave.

But he hadn’t given up. His wife and daughter had been slaughtered—if he did nothing, what was the point of being alive? Gut-wrenched and dazed, Yan Xin hatched a desperate plan.

He had long heard of a certain box in the Ruyi Guard’s possession—inside was the divine Jin Pugu arrows, a precious golden arrow from the Heavenly Mountain, said to leave incurable wounds. Even the Tianfu Guard envied it. When the Yu Jue Guard had still lived, she’d once joked: “Only the arrow in that box can kill Yu Ji Guard.” To kill a divine general like those of the Xian Mountain Guards required a legendary weapon. And perhaps there was more than one such weapon in that box—enough to send Yu Ji Guard to the grave. Driven to despair, Yan Xin resolved to stake everything.

He would steal the Jin Pugu arrows.

At that moment, anger surged through his heart. If there was even the faintest chance of killing Yu Ji Guard, he would seize it without hesitation.

He remembered the box was sealed with a “Blood Bait Lock”—the most difficult lock in the world to open. It was made from the owner’s own bone, crafted with the “Bone-drip method,” and could only be opened with their blood or that of their kin. The bones of the Xian Mountain Guard were strengthened by “Immortal Elixir,” extremely tough, nearly indestructible. Trying to break it by force would only cause a huge commotion and alert the Ruyi Guard.

So, Yan Xin devised another plan.

The next day, light rain fell. The Ruyi Guard came out on deck to stretch her limbs. Since Yingzhou rained constantly, a light drizzle was considered good weather. The Ruyi Guard often chose days like this to get some fresh air.

But she had barely stepped outside the cabin when she suddenly jumped as if struck by lightning and shouted:

“Ruyi Guard, what’s wrong?!”

The girl jumped up like a fluffed-up cat, clutching her foot and shouting at the deck, “There was a splinter here!”

The wood splinter had pierced through the sole of her soft shoe and wounded her. The old woman quickly helped pull it out and, seeing her teary-eyed expression, smiled and said, “Master Ruyi Guard is a genius who comprehends the workings of heaven and earth and is well-versed in all things past and present—how could you not foresee stepping on a splinter?”

Ruyi Guard cried out, “Do you take me for a monster? Who calculates their own eating, sleeping, and walking every day? Besides, it’s taboo for diviners to divine for themselves!”

She tossed the bloodied splinter aside in a huff and made to storm off the ship. Though the old woman tried to persuade her to rest and heal, Ruyi Guard’s stubbornness had flared. Even if blades fell from the sky, nothing could stop her from going out for a stroll.

Once the two of them had gone ashore, a shadow darted out and slipped aboard the Fenglin ship—it was Yan Xin.

Fortunately, the splinter had not fallen into the water; the dark red bead of blood still clung to it. He quickly looked around to confirm Ruyi Guard had truly walked far off, then quietly slipped into the cabin of the Fenglin ship.

To his surprise, the cabin was unlocked. Inside, the large box was sitting right there in the open—he didn’t even have to search for it. Suspicion stirred in Yan Xin’s heart—it felt as though this was a trap laid out just for him to spring.

But with time pressing and not knowing when Ruyi Guard might return, he couldn’t hesitate. Heart pounding, he quickly took the bloodstained splinter and inserted it into the blood-bait lock. A crisp click—the box opened, flooding the room with golden light.

Inside were the Jin Pugu arrows, each one long and gleaming, bright as daylight.

Yan Xin stared in awe, reaching out to take one—only to spot something else inside the box: a small lotus pouch. Within it was a vermilion glass bottle that seemed to contain liquor. Even unopened, it gave off a rich aroma. He opened it and saw black liquid inside. Suddenly, a flash of insight struck his mind.

Could this be—Immortal Elixir?

No one in Xian Mountain was unfamiliar with its name. It was said to be brewed by the great immortal Yonghe of Penglai Immortal Palace—drinking it could extend life, or greatly boost strength. Some soldiers who had been rewarded with it dared not consume it all at once, and Ruyi Guard must have kept some for herself.

Yan Xin clutched the little bottle, heart pounding. If he wanted to deal with Yu Ji Guard, this would be more effective than Jin Pugu arrows.

A streak of purple lightning tore across the sky, splitting the clouds like a massive wound across the heavens. Thunder rumbled in waves—it was as if a thousand voices cried out in unison:

Avenge them!

Ah Chu’s pale face seemed to flash before his eyes, and Yan Xin trembled all over. His heart seared like red-hot iron, his chest aching with fury.

Without another second’s hesitation, he threw back his head and drank the black liquid in one gulp.

______

Yan Xin vanished without a trace.

Ever since the day he went to Qingyu Gao Palace, no one had seen him again. With their leader gone, the Lei Ze Camp fell into chaos.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Ling’er snuck out of camp and made a trip to the fast boat to meet with Fang Jingyu. He whispered, “The Lei Ze Camp is in complete disorder now, Your Highness. Best you hide for a while. Many are still thinking of handing you over to Yu Ji Guard in exchange for a reward!”

It was only then that Fang Jingyu realized Yan Xin had deliberately misstated the time of the prisoner exchange that day. And now Yan Xin was missing, his wife as well as most of the captured soldiers, were dead. Upon hearing this, Fang Jingyu felt like a knife had been driven through his heart.

But Chu Kuang was still badly injured—he couldn’t act rashly. With Yu Ji Guard already executing prisoners, charging alone into Qingyu Gao Palace would be suicide. The most urgent task was to find shelter and regroup.

Ling’er brought them to a familiar flower lane and willow alley. Though called an alley, it was actually a floating bridge, with a string of pleasure boats moored alongside, linked by iron chains. A few pretty young men leaned against the railings, singing delicate tunes, flirtatious and charming.

Once aboard one of the painted boats, Fang Jingyu discovered it was a hidden world of its own. Room after room echoed with flirtatious voices and gentle laughter—a dreamy realm wrapped in silk and song. The madam, her hair styled in elegant clouds, had clear eyes that still retained traces of past refinement.

Because of Ling’er’s connection, the madam agreed to shelter them for the time being, so long as they didn’t stir up trouble. Fang Jingyu readily agreed and parted ways with the soldiers on the fast ship, settling in here.

But within just a day, trouble came.

Chu Kuang, who had consumed more of the meat slices during the fight with Yu Ji Guard, began to show symptoms of a hidden affliction. His head throbbed unbearably, and he screamed, delirious. Ignoring his wounds, he leapt off the bed, tearing open his injuries, and rampaged wildly through the rooms.

To restrain him, Fang Jingyu was forced to fight him head-on. But Chu Kuang’s strikes were fierce and unrelenting—every blow was meant to kill. Just the day before, he’d seemed on death’s door, but now he was a whirlwind of strength. Fang Jingyu, mindful of his injuries, couldn’t fight with full force and ended up getting thoroughly beaten. At last, he had to draw the Vipashyin Blade and use it as a club to strike Chu Kuang down. Gasping for breath in the aftermath, he looked around at the wrecked room in helpless frustration.

Zheng Deli took Chu Kuang’s pulse and said, “This is severe fire mania. The meat slices Laborer Chu ate are full of fiery poison. They heal, yes—but they also drive people mad.”

Fang Jingyu sighed. That meat came from the same origin as the Immortal Elixir. Back in Milu Village, the walking meat who consumed it had gone insane immediately. If anything, Chu Kuang’s symptoms were still considered mild.

“Is there any way to suppress it?” he asked.

“With potent cooling medicine—coldstone, coptis… but such herbs are only found on Qingyu Gao Mountain, and Yu Ji Guard controls that place now.”

“No other methods?”

Zheng Deli sighed. “Letting him fight with you is also a form of releasing the heat.”

Fang Jingyu shook his head. “He’s still injured. If we fight too much and reopen the wounds, what then?”

Just then the madam arrived and, hearing their conversation, laughed. “You two keep this up, and my boat’s going to fall apart! Besides, if you make too much noise, you’ll attract the attention of the Qingyu Gao Mountain soldiers.”

The two fell silent, their expressions grim. The madam smiled again. “Isn’t there one more way to vent the heat? No need to go gather rare herbs on the mountain—and much easier than the other two.”

Fang Jingyu’s eyes lit up. “What is it?”

The madam didn’t answer immediately. After a while, she pointed toward Chu Kuang lying on the bed.

Chu Kuang’s clothes were half open, his face flushed with fever, the rest of him pale and delicate—evoking a tender sort of pity.

She said:

“Sleep with him.”