HCAW 63

Chapter 63: Fleeting Youth

Chu Kuang felt as though he were being roasted alive.

Because of the meat slices he had consumed, it was as if he had fallen into a hell of freezing fire, his body pierced by sword trees, the pain unbearable. As for his frenzy and fight with Fang Jingyu, he had no memory at all.

He lay on the bed, seared again and again by the pain like blades falling upon him. And in this agony, he found himself remembering the past once more.

Suddenly, it was as if he had returned to Yingzhou many years ago—to the days when his master was still with him.

Eight years prior, violent rain lashed Yingzhou, thunder rumbling as the sea was veiled in mist and water.

That day, two figures clad in oilcloth rushed across a storm-swept floating bridge, arriving before the Lei Ze ship.

At that time, Yu Jue Guard had only just perished, and the morale in Lei Ze Camp was at rock bottom. Drunken soldiers could be seen everywhere. The reek of wine was heavy beneath the domed canopy. When the two entered the camp, no one bothered to stop them—only a broad-browed young man rose groggily from the floor and barked:

“Stop right there! Who are you?”

One of the two, a tall figure, removed his rain hood, revealing a face covered in silver—his voice warm and courteous: “Pardon us. We come from across the Ming Sea. We were old acquaintances of Yu Jue Guard. Might we ask—where is she now?”

The broad-browed youth flinched and lowered his head. “She… she’s passed.”

The silver-masked man was stunned. “Passed?” After a moment, he asked the boy, “And you are?”

“My name’s Yan Xin, subordinate of Lord Yu Jue Guard. Lei Ze Camp is falling apart—we may not last a few more days. Everyone’s trying to find their own way out. You’ve come at a bad time.”

The silver-masked man frowned and was silent for a while, then leaned over to whisper something to his companion. At that, the figure beside him suddenly stepped forward and spoke in a cold, arrogant tone:

“Is everyone in Lei Ze Camp just a bunch of rootless cowards? Seems Yu Jue Guard was asking for it—surrounded by this bunch of worthless rejects, it’s no wonder she ended up carved to pieces by Yu Ji Guard.”

The voice was clear and flowing like water—it sounded young, belonging to a boy. The soldiers of Lei Ze Camp, already despondent and drowning their sorrows in drink, didn’t mind insults toward themselves, but any word against Yu Jue Guard—that they couldn’t tolerate. A few drunkards immediately leapt up, shouting curses:

“Which runt just crawled out of a dog’s ass and dares speak like that to me?!”

One of them lunged and threw a punch at the oilcloth-cloaked boy. The youth dodged calmly, barely turning his head as the fist passed him by. His hood was brushed aside in the motion, revealing his face.

The drunken soldier—and indeed everyone else in the camp—fell silent at once. One by one, they craned their necks to stare at him.

That face was pale and striking, like it had been washed in milk; his eyes were icy and sharp, and one of them was a blood-red double pupil, exuding a murderous air. He was completely out of place on that filthy, grimy ship—like a patch of snow dropped into a pit of coal.

The boy sneered. “Was I wrong? Look at your slack defenses—if I were Yu Ji Guard, I could end Lei Ze Camp with a few flicks of my fingers. If Yu Jue Guard raised a bunch of spineless fools like you, she must have been no better herself.”

The soldiers truly could not endure it now. To insult Yu Jue Guard to their faces was to touch their reverse scale—howls of rage erupted around him.

“Teach this little bastard a lesson!”

“Where’d this wild brat come from? Break his legs and feed him to the pigs!”

The silver-masked man only smiled and whispered to the boy, “This baiting tactic really works.”

The youth shot him a glare. “Master, you’re the one who should be doing this dangerous crap next time.”

The Lei Ze soldiers, furious, drew blades and surrounded the boy. But he moved like a phantom—every strike missed its mark.

With a flick of his wrist, black flashes shot from his sleeve—he’d concealed a wrist-mounted crossbow under his cloak. Though the bolts were blunt-tipped, they hurt like hell when they struck.

After a few piercing whistles of pain, the soldiers were strewn across the floor, groaning in disarray. The whole camp was filled with cries and curses.

Yan Xin stood dumbfounded. “You—who the hell are you people?!”

The boy retracted his crossbow and replied, “Your grandfather.”

The silver-masked man added with a smile, “And I’m your grandfather’s master.”

The soldiers all glared at them with bloodshot toad-eyes. The silver-masked man finally pointed at the boy and said with a grin, “As I said, we’re old acquaintances of Yu Jue Guard. We were wrongly accused in Penglai and had nowhere else to go. So we came to seek refuge under her command. He’s my disciple—his name is Chu Kuang.”

They ought to have humbled themselves, coming to take shelter—but this brat had the nerve to come in guns blazing. The Lei Ze soldiers were outraged. Several still wanted to challenge him, but were all soundly thrashed by this so-called Chu Kuang.

Though not skilled in close combat, Chu Kuang’s movements with bow were swift and clean, every shot accurate. He was a cunning rogue, fought dirty, and no one in camp could do a thing about it. So, he and the silver-masked man swaggered in, laid out their bedrolls, and moved in.

That night, gathered around a bamboo fire cage, the soldiers scowled and grumbled, smashing cups and bowls.

“That filthy little monkey! Only fifteen, yet his mouth is sharper than a knife—looks down on us all!”

One man cursed, “Look at that pale pretty face of his—should be working as a little bed toy in the South Courtyard. Once I beat him, I’ll make sure he enjoys me every damn day!”

“If you’re a subordinate of Yu Jue Guard, how can you let her name be disgraced? Brothers, tomorrow, show him what you’ve got—beat him until he’s crawling!”

Roars in the ship rose like wolves and tigers. In the cabin behind a thin plank wall, Chu Kuang and the silver-masked man were drinking.

Chu Kuang set down his porcelain cup and closed his eyes. “Master, this is your fault. Now someone’s got their eyes on my ass again.”

The silver-masked man laughed. “So what? You’ve fought off starving wolves. Afraid of people now?”

The youth looked unconcerned and took a sip. “If this riles them up enough to gain some spine, to be worthy of Yu Jue Guard’s name, then playing the villain is worth it.”

“But you—where did you pick up all this filthy language?” the silver-masked man sighed. “When I first found you, your mouth was still clean. Now you’ve got a whole library of vulgarities.”

“We’ve been all over together. I’ve learned when to use what kind of words on what kind of people.” Chu Kuang grinned. “Don’t look down on me, Master. I learn fast.”

The silver-masked man rapped his head, and Chu Kuang yelped. The older man sighed, “Brat. Learn something decent for once.”

The next day at noon, the Lei Ze soldiers really did come storming over, footsteps pounding, fury blazing.

Outside the ship, the silver-masked man and Chu Kuang had just set up a canopy. They were steaming carp caught from rain-fed ponds. After slitting the fish, they stuffed it with lamb fat, fragrant lotus seeds, a spoonful of soybean paste, two scallions, and a slice of ginger—turning it into a dish full of aroma. Chu Kuang, salivating, shelled lotus seeds while pacing in front of the steamer.

The Lei Ze soldiers saw this and nearly drooled—but quickly remembered why they came. At once, they roared:

“You two little bastards still have the mood to eat fish? Let’s see if we don’t beat the piss and shit out of you and feed you to the fish!”

Chu Kuang, still shelling lotus pods, flicked his hand—and several black streaks flew out, knocking down a bunch of soldiers.

Their heads swelled in pain as they scrambled back up. They realized what hit them weren’t lotus seeds—it was spiked caltrops. Before they could react, Chu Kuang was already firing spike darts in a torrential barrage, leaving them no room to move. With his mouth full of lotus seeds, he cackled:

“I’m not even good at hidden weapons, and I’ve already got you lot scrambling before I even draw my bow. Train a few more years! Don’t disgrace Yu Jue Guard’s name!”

The Lei Ze soldiers fled in disarray. Back in camp, they raged about the new brat. “Damn it! I don’t believe it. Give me ten years, and I’ll have that little runt on his knees!”

Late at night, when all was quiet, some soldiers crawled from under the deck and crept to the stern cabin. They pressed themselves to the door, peeking through the cracks.

Chu Kuang was always awake, eyes downcast, quietly working with glue and horn, shaping a bow. His delicate face looked like it had been painted with graceful brushstrokes. The soldiers ground their teeth in hatred, yet couldn’t stop whispering, “Who the hell is this kid?”

They watched him nightly, crafting bows, boiling fish glue and hammering sinew. But whenever he tested a new bowstring, it would snap. Frowning, Chu Kuang muttered, “Weird. Is it the glue? The bamboo too soft? Or did I cut against the grain?”

The soldiers were stunned—he hadn’t even been using his full strength against them. Suddenly feeling like they’d been punched in the gut, they dispersed to train under the ship, each more determined than ever not to be humiliated again.

When they were gone, the silver-masked man chuckled in the corner. “Was that provocation strategy a little too much?”

Chu Kuang frowned. “I wasn’t acting. I really don’t get why every bow I make keeps snapping.”

The silver-masked man sighed. “Your strength grew too fast. To save your life, I gave you a heavy dose of medicine back then. Since then, your strength has surged.”

“That weird, black meat slice?”

“That’s right—an unrefined form of Immortal Elixir. It normally takes over ten years to prepare and can only be refined in the Immortal Palace. I had to make do. It saves lives, but the aftereffects are… not minor.” He sighed. “Chu Kuang, do you blame me?”

Chu Kuang shook his head. “You’re my savior, Master. Why would I blame you?” He set the bow down. “But I don’t understand—why did you send me here to train?”

“The soldiers of Lei Ze Camp are solid. If you want to defeat Yu Ji Guard, you’ll need all their strength. You’ll have to rely on them in the future—especially after you bring that man out of Penglai and here.”

His master always spoke cryptically. Chu Kuang didn’t want to think too much—he’d only get a headache. He simply said, “They’re a scattered bunch of arrows. If we don’t set a target, who knows where they’ll shoot? Only by making me the target will they push themselves to train.”

He stepped outside, leapt onto the railing, and shouted down to the soldiers:

“Hey, you pack of bastards!”

The soldiers looked up and saw it was him speaking, their eyes all burning with fury. Chu Kuang raised his brows and said with a grin, “We’ll settle things five days from now—whoever beats me, I’ll play the flute for him.”

He made a hand gesture, eyes full of mischief and charm. The soldiers stared at each other, flushed and agitated. Though they hated him, the boy’s every gesture was devilishly captivating. After a long silence, one finally gritted his teeth and shouted, “Damn it! I’ll have him moaning under me by then!”

Back inside, Chu Kuang heard the roaring below. The silver-masked man chuckled. “What kind of bait is that this time? Sounds like you dumped oil on the fire again. But aren’t you the kind who hates being touched? Can you really win in five days?”

Chu Kuang grinned slyly. “What do you think?” He pulled a pipe from his robe—a small wind instrument he’d carved himself. “I am going to play a song. If anyone beats me, I’ll let them hear one tune.”

“That’s a pipe.”

“Flutes go horizontal, pipes go vertical. Close enough. I picked it up fast and I’m not half-bad. Want to hear, Master?”

The silver-masked man looked at his grinning disciple and thought—he really had become unfathomable. Once a quiet, awkward thing, now he was growing more sly by the day. He laughed. “You little scoundrel.”

Chu Kuang smirked. “I call it a beauty trap.”

The silver-masked man chuckled again. After a pause, he said, “A beauty? You?”

Chu Kuang smiled—bright as a painting, eyebrows shaded like ink, eyes like stars at dawn twinkling with mischief. He said with complete certainty:

“Of course I am. Master, if I’m not beautiful, then no one in this world is.”