HCAW 108

Chapter 108: I Must Become An Immortal

Half an hour earlier, Fang Jingyu stood silently in the corridor.

It had been some days since Gu Bi Guard had taken Xiao Jiao away for questioning. Time and again, Fang Jingyu had tried to plead with Gu Bi Guard to release her, hoping she could regain her freedom. But every time, Gu Bi Guard would simply smile and say, “I’m merely asking the Divine Maiden about the events of that day—nothing rough has been done to her. This is a case involving lives, and there’s been no progress yet. Surely you wouldn’t want her to walk away with her name uncleared, would you?”

Seeing that reasoning got him nowhere, Fang Jingyu tried to approach the dungeon by stealth. Yet each time, as if Gu Bi Guard grew from the earth itself, he would suddenly appear to block his way. Fang Jingyu often heard the faint sounds of whipping from the depths below and clenched his fists in silence. He had lived with Xiao Jiao for years; they were as close as siblings. How could he watch her suffer for no reason?

So today, he came armed with blade and sword, determined. Even if it meant tearing all pretense with Gu Bi Guard, he would not let Xiao Jiao remain buried and alone beneath the earth. Before leaving, he explained his intentions to Chu Kuang, who stared at him coldly.

“If Your Highness wishes to act, do it. Why bother telling me?”

“What are you angry about again?” Fang Jingyu noticed his strange expression.

“As I’ve said before, I only care about your life. What happens to others has nothing to do with me.”

“If you’re truly that cold, then why did you seek vengeance for Deli back in Penglai? You’ve traveled with Xiao Jiao too—don’t tell me you feel nothing for her.”

Chu Kuang choked for a moment, then turned away. At last, he replied frostily, “This is not the past. In times like these, we cannot have it both ways. Sacrificing the greater cause to save one person is unthinkable. I will not lift a hand for Miss Qin.”

“The greater cause? You mean my safety? Is that so important, that you’d trade another’s life for it? Then if I risk myself to save her, will you endanger the whole cause to save me?” Fang Jingyu said coldly.

Chu Kuang clenched his fists in silence.

Fang Jingyu knew his mind was troubled—too many things were still unprepared. If they turned against Gu Bi Guard now, the road ahead would grow perilous. But they were already few in number, and without Xiao Jiao, leaving the city would be even harder.

At last, Chu Kuang said stiffly, “I’ll protect only you, Your Highness.”

Fang Jingyu turned his back. “So I’m the greedy one, then—foolishly wishing that everyone at my side might remain safe and well. I’m going to save her. Come if you want, leave if you must.”

He strode off, leaving Chu Kuang standing alone in the corridor. The wind picked up, scattering dust. Branches scraped like the sound of paper tearing. Fang Jingyu glanced back and saw Chu Kuang with his head bowed, silent and solitary. A rift had formed between them—and it was only widening.

After parting from Chu Kuang, Fang Jingyu slipped quietly into the dungeon, arriving just in time to see Gu Bi Guard leading his men in questioning Xiao Jiao. What startled him most was that she no longer appeared in her usual form—her body was now shattered and broken. Sprawled on the floor was a small nine-tentacled octopus. But from the way it spoke, he could tell: it was her.

His surprise only lasted a moment. Long ago in Yingzhou, she had survived even after losing her heart—abnormal beyond reason. He had expected something like this. After all, Chu Kuang had escaped death several times with help from that strange black flesh, and monks of Yuanqiao had saved them both with their powers. He had long since grown accustomed to such otherworldly things.

The guards surrounded Fang Jingyu, swordlight glinting like frost. He stared coldly at Gu Bi Guard. Then suddenly, like an arrow loosed, he shot forward, slipping deftly between them!

Startled, the guards raised their blades. Their movements were eerie and unified—like puppets controlled by Gu Bi Guard. Fang Jingyu parried left and right, forcing his way through with all his strength. Xiao Jiao saw him coming and stretched out a hand, shouting:

“Come with me—get on!”

She shuddered and suddenly remembered the day they left the Heavenly Pass of Penglai. She had charged to the execution platform with blood and fire in her heart, rescuing him. And now, he had arrived in her moment of peril, fighting to break her chains. She leapt up and landed on his shoulder. Her black tentacles curled around him, and she whispered timidly, “You tight-lipped gourd.”

Moments later, she added softly, “Thank you.”

Her heart was in turmoil. She feared he would be disgusted by her hideous appearance and didn’t know how to explain the truth. Fang Jingyu glanced at her and said, “If you really want to thank me, don’t give me those meat-filled buns you like. I don’t even like them.”

Xiao Jiao couldn’t help laughing through her tears. Then he added, “Once we’re out of here, you can explain how you ended up like this—but hold on tight!”

With that, Fang Jingyu swung his sword. The blade danced like a storm, light flashing like wind and rain. His strength was unmatched, like a furious lion, forcing the guards to retreat. And with every sweeping strike, he subtly slashed across the Five-Ward Spirit Array carved into the floor, shattering it piece by piece. As the array broke apart, Xiao Jiao felt the pressure lift from her body, as if invisible bindings had been released.

“You tight-lipped gourd! I feel so much better now that you ruined that array. How did you know what it did?” Xiao Jiao asked excitedly.

“I didn’t,” Fang Jingyu replied. “But when we were cleaning out Da Yuan Dao disciples, they always drew weird stuff on the ground. I got sick of looking at it.” As he spoke, he raised a boot and kicked one of the guards out of the way.

Now that Xiao Jiao had regained the memories of Great Immortal Yonghe, she realized that the formation likely had a suppressive effect on her. Gu Bi Guard had used every means imaginable to force her true self to emerge.

Fang Jingyu broke through the encirclement and rushed out of the underground chamber, sprinting through the tunnel. Outside, night had fallen, and the cold wind bit harshly. Just as he neared the gates of the estate, countless shadows suddenly surged from all directions, crashing over him like a tidal wave!

Startled, he turned to see scattered torchlight and lanterns. The guards had quietly gathered, though no orders had been given. Gu Bi Guard’s attendants lunged forward like a collapsing mountain, pinning him down. Under their crushing weight, Fang Jingyu’s bones and flesh creaked. The attendants’ eyes were dull and lifeless, as if they were being controlled by an unseen force. Then he understood—these were all extensions of Gu Bi Guard. Inside the royal manor, it was like being swallowed alive by him.

Gu Bi Guard slowly emerged from the tunnel’s darkness. Under the pale moonlight, his face took on a ghostly glow. He didn’t speak, but the attendant pressing Fang Jingyu to the ground spoke in his voice:

“Young master, best to surrender.”

These attendants seemed to share one mind and soul with Gu Bi Guard. When one finished, another picked up where he left off in the same voice: “I understand you acted on impulse, out of concern for the girl. But you saw it yourself—she’s a vicious demon who’s harmed many. Please, hand her over so I can answer to the families of the victims.”

Crushed beneath them, Fang Jingyu’s organs screamed with pain. Blood filled his mouth, yet he ground his teeth and growled:

“No.”

He would never let go of Xiao Jiao—just as she had once risked everything for him. With a sudden roar, Fang Jingyu gathered all his strength and shifted his body with the force that had once carried the National Preceptor’s silver palanquin in Penglai. In that instant, he dislocated every joint in his iron frame and, enduring searing agony, slipped free from the pile and reset his bones.

The attendants immediately moved to block him again. Drenched in sweat, Fang Jingyu shouted:

“Out of my way, or this sword will taste blood today!”

He raised the Hanguang Sword—its blade like a blazing arc across the sky—and thrust it at the man before him. But just as the sword was about to pierce the guard’s chest, the man’s vacant face suddenly twisted, as though waking from a dream. He cried out in fear:

“No—don’t kill me! I still have a family. Please, show mercy!”

In an instant, the other attendants also seemed to snap awake. Though they still held their weapons, their faces crumbled with terror:

“Where are we?!”

“My arms—they won’t move right!”

“I don’t want to die… please, I don’t want to die!”

“Young master, we didn’t want to hurt you—please don’t kill us…”

Fang Jingyu hesitated. He had thought these men were conjured from Gu Bi Guard’s twisted magic—soulless puppets. But now it was clear: they were unfortunate souls, enslaved by the “Immortal Elixir” and bent to Gu Bi Guard’s will.

But that instant of hesitation was fatal. Suddenly, the wailing attendants went silent, and in unison, their swords stabbed in from all sides—piercing Fang Jingyu’s limbs!

He gasped, pain wracking his body, blood spurting in arcs. In the haze, he saw Gu Bi Guard’s gentle smile—the smile of a spider lying in wait in the center of its web. All of Daiyu was trapped in his threads. Gu Bi Guard had deliberately let these men show human emotion, baiting him into lowering his guard.

More guards closed in, countless as mountain ridges. Fang Jingyu collapsed in blood. He struggled to rise, body shivering. Chu Kuang had been right—two fists could not defeat a hundred blades. How could he alone break free of the royal guards, let alone cross the borders of Daiyu?

Then he heard a soft whisper beside his ear.

“You tight-lipped gourd,” said Xiao Jiao, still in her small nine-tentacled octopus form. Her tentacle gently brushed the wounds on his face. To his surprise, wherever she touched began to heal. She asked, “Do you trust me?”

“When have I not?” Fang Jingyu panted. “Aside from the lies you told to skip school and steal food, I’ve always believed every word you said.”

“I remember who I am now. I’m the Great Immortal Yonghe. I’ve only just awakened, and I’m still weak. But if you trust me, I’ll lend you my power.”

Fang Jingyu’s eyes widened—but this wasn’t the time to hesitate. He closed his eyes and nodded. “All right. I trust you.”

The night wind roared, leaves shivering like a million voices. Within the gusts, a storm vortex seemed to form. Gu Bi Guard’s attendants sensed danger and began to step back. His smile vanished, lips tightening.

Before them stood a bloodstained youth, sword in hand—like an immovable deity guarding a sacred temple. On his shoulder, the tiny nine-tentacled octopus extended a tentacle into his ear. Slowly, her entire body slipped inside.

Gu Bi Guard suddenly tensed. Before him now stood a youth who had merged with something utterly terrifying and unknown.

Fang Jingyu opened his eyes. His gaze was shadowed, as deep as the night sky.

He opened his mouth, and the voice that emerged cracked like thunder, echoing across the air. It layered like a thousand monks chanting in unison. Visions unfurled—tens of thousands of eyes blinked open across the heavens, the Ming Sea rolled wide, and giant whales shattered the waves. Fang Jingyu said:

“Step aside.”

The words echoed like an eternal truth, shaking valleys and peaks. Without realizing, the guards fell to their knees, as if burdened by some great weight. A path opened in the crowd—a path only the divine could walk.

In that moment, everyone’s heart trembled.

They knew, the one standing there was no longer just a youth, it was Great Immortal Yonghe, a god to be revered.