HCAW 128

Chapter 128: Emperor Bai’s City Wall

The sky and earth were white, layered with endless ice and snow.

The historical records of the Nine Provinces describe this place as: “The waters of the Eight Directions and Nine Wilds, the flow of the Heavenly River—all converge here.” Once past the taoyuan stone gate, one beheld nothing but a world of frost and rime: jade trees and jeweled blossoms, an expanse of blinding white. Most striking were the towering peaks in the distance, rising like a thousand cliffs from the earth, forming a massive wall of ice. The summits were not sharp but flat, as if ten thousand waterfalls hung down from the edge of the sky. The frigid wind howled bitterly, and the whole world resembled a prison forged of ice—crystalline, yet filled with deadly stillness.

And at the center of this frozen prison stood a city wall, built atop a cliff, surrounded on all sides by sheer drops. Only a single crumbling carved beam extended from behind the stone gate, offering the sole path of access. The outer walls were dilapidated, the towers leaning forward like an old man ravaged by wind and frost, his limbs broken and arms missing. Black-headed terns circled in the sky, their cries sharp and whistling like flutes..

No one knew how many years ago, but Emperor Bai had once led a campaign here, only to retreat in defeat under the harsh cold. That city wall had been left behind as his Guixu residence—and another thing he had left behind was an uncountable number of white bones. Tens of thousands of soldiers lay buried among the frosted blossoms, frozen beneath layers of solid ice, most of them sealed in the moment of their death—some lifting stones and swinging pickaxes, some kneeling in worship toward the city. Along the ice wall stood countless ice statues, soldiers frozen mid-reach, as though trying to touch a heaven forever out of reach.

Fang Jingyu held Chu Kuang in his arms and wandered through them, lost and broken.

From Daiyu to Guixu, it was as if he had journeyed from one dead land to another. He repeatedly lowered his head to call out to Chu Kuang, tears streaming down his face as he cried the name that ought to have already died. Chu Kuang gave no response. His bloodless face made Fang Jingyu fearful—if he dropped him into the snow by mistake, would he vanish in the blink of an eye?

“Brother Minsheng… I’m begging you, please wake up…”

Fang Jingyu called softly, desperately rubbing Chu Kuang’s cheek with his palm. He had seen Chu Kuang’s scar-ridden body, tasted his kisses laced with shameless flattery. Chu Kuang had been crude, foul-mouthed, like a scoundrel—hard to reconcile with the elegant Fang Minsheng of the past. The wind and frost had forged him into someone entirely different, yet ten years ago and ten years later, he had always, unwaveringly, guarded Fang Jingyu’s side.

Thinking back on all that had passed, Fang Jingyu was filled with bitter regret. It was because of him that his elder brother had fallen into hell, enduring torments as countless as grains of sand in the river. He had once wounded his brother with a sword, suspected him, rebuked him harshly—had even shared a bed with him. He had once doubted Chu Kuang’s identity, yet clung to a sliver of hope, both wishing he was his brother and hoping he was not. Now it felt as though a fire was blazing in his chest. He shut his eyes tight and bit down, cursing himself: “Absurd… utterly ridiculous!”

Fang Jingyu lowered his head and looked at Chu Kuang. Chu Kuang curled in his arms like he was merely asleep, yet his face was deathly pale, the corners of his mouth tinged with blood. The body that had once shielded him from wind and rain was now feeble and frail. He recalled having kissed those lips, now cold as ice, and his heart burned.

Just then, a faint voice came from behind him:

“Your Highness, where are you going?”

Fang Jingyu turned and saw a shadow like black mud standing behind him—it was Bi Bao Guard. She had not yet perished and was still following behind him.

“There’s no physician ahead, nor any shelter from the bitter cold. I fear there’s no saving Young Master Chu.”

“Then where do you want me to go!” Fang Jingyu suddenly lost control, turning and shouting, “The Ming Sea has cut off my way back, and ahead lies only death. How am I supposed to save him! Ten years ago, I was parted from him in life—must I now part from him in death?”

Bi Bao Guard quietly endured his fury, knowing well how much sorrow and turmoil lay hidden in those words. When Fang Jingyu finally calmed down, he said, “I have examined Young Master Chu’s condition. He is gravely injured. The ‘Immortal Elixir’ has devoured his organs. His heartbeat grows weaker—his heart has almost stopped beating.” Fang Jingyu felt another stab of pain in his chest, but then he heard Bi Bao Guard say, “But if Your Highness trusts me, there is one method left to try.”

“What method?”

“Allow me to enter Young Master Chu’s body and stimulate his heart—so that his life might be prolonged for a while.”

Fang Jingyu had read the medical books Zheng Deli carried and knew of a method to revive those who had hanged themselves but hadn’t died—by pressing rhythmically on their chest. Bi Bao Guard’s method was of a similar principle, so he nodded.

Bi Bao Guard immediately inserted a tentacle into Chu Kuang’s ear, then stretched her body long and thin, sliding inside. Before long, a faint flush returned to Chu Kuang’s face. When Fang Jingyu touched his wrist, he could feel a barely perceptible pulse.

Just then, Fang Jingyu suddenly felt a burning heat spreading through his chest. Though they were surrounded by a world of snow and ice, it was as if a blazing fire had ignited in his heart. He reached to loosen his robe—but at that moment, Bi Bao Guard’s voice came to his ear:

“Your Highness, what are you doing?”

“Why is my body burning all of a sudden—has Gu Bi Guard’s fire poison flared up? I…” Fang Jingyu’s vision blurred, and he staggered, clutching his head.

“You’re just too badly frozen. Hurry and find shelter from the snow, otherwise—”

Suddenly, darkness fell over Fang Jingyu’s eyes, as if someone had covered them with both hands. He collapsed to the ground, and Bi Bao Guard’s voice, along with the howling of wind and snow, faded into the distance. He had forgotten that during the fierce battle with Gu Bi Guard, his entire body had been torn with wounds.

In the end, he lost consciousness.

________

The fire crackled, sounding like hundreds of moth wings breaking apart in the flames. The rich aroma of meat broth filled his nose, and warmth wrapped around him. After an unknown span of time, Fang Jingyu opened his eyes and saw the ceiling of a felt tent. He slowly sat up, his limbs still numb from the cold.

When his head cleared a bit, he suddenly looked around and cried, “Brother Minsheng!”

Just then, a woman entered the tent. Hearing his call, she said calmly, “Who are you looking for?”

Fang Jingyu looked carefully and saw her brows like emerald feathers, skin like congealed cream, and dressed in a snow-white rabbit-fur robe—it was Bai Huan Guard, whom he had seen in Daiyu.

“You… you are… Bai Huan Guard?” Fang Jingyu asked.

Bai Huan Guard nodded, a trace of confusion passing over her cold face, then she said, “Are you looking for your companion? He’s sleeping on the other bed.”

Fang Jingyu turned his head and saw that indeed there was another bed in the tent. He hadn’t seen it clearly before due to the curtain. It was laid with reindeer hide and soft grass. Chu Kuang lay stretched out upon it, covered in soft beast furs, his chest rising and falling faintly.

Bai Huan Guard added, “I found you both collapsed near the gate and brought you back. This place is one of my former residences within Guixi.”

Fang Jingyu let out a breath of relief, then turned to Bai Huan Guard and said, “Thank you for coming to our aid, my lady.” Yet confusion still lingered in his heart, and he asked again:

“My lady, why are you here?”

Bai Huan Guard remained expressionless. “Did Your Highness think I was drowned by the Ming Sea in Daiyu?”

“I was caught up in the battle with Gu Bi Guard. I thought you were one of Gu Bi Guard’s pawns. I didn’t even think to consider your safety—that was rude of me.”

“It was a crisis then—you couldn’t spare the attention. That’s only natural. Gu Bi Guard had indeed planted spies all throughout Daiyu, but I had no dealings with him. You need not worry,” said the woman in white. “Because the ‘Heavenly Book’ made brief mention of today’s events, I was prepared. After the Ming Sea surged, I boarded the boat I had set aside and crossed to the gate, following your trail.”

Fang Jingyu paused in thought, then asked, “There’s one more thing I wish to ask. Guixi has been sealed for many years. Earlier, we unlocked eleven blood bait locks just to open the gate. So why did you say this place was once your residence?”

A faint and clear smile appeared on Bai Huan Guard’s elegant face. “What I said was no lie. Before Guixi was sealed, I once resided here, together with my father—Bai Huan Guard.”

Fang Jingyu was stunned. “Bai Huan Guard?”

He looked her up and down. The woman in white nodded gracefully. “Yes. I’m sorry. I never explained this to Your Highness earlier. Strictly speaking, I’m not the original Bai Huan Guard who followed Emperor Bai into battle—but his daughter. Long ago, I did come here with my father. I returned to Fanghu afterward. Now, being here feels like revisiting an old place.”

Her gaze turned outward toward the gap in the tent, where a slice of bleak sky showed through. “Your Highness has reached Guixi—what do you plan to do next?”

Fang Jingyu was taken aback. He hadn’t truly thought about it before—as if Guixi was the journey’s end.

“I thought… if I stayed here for a while, I might find a way to hold back the wind and snow.”

“You must have seen it for yourself—Guixi is surrounded on all sides by towering ice walls. Those walls are the very source of Penglai’s freezing weather,” Bai Huan Guard said. Fang Jingyu recalled the rows of thousand-peaked cliffs and murmured in surprise, “So those were the ice walls.”

“Yes. No one knows how thick they are. Back when Emperor Bai reached this place, even after expending the labor of thousands upon thousands, he could not bore through them. Later, most of those who stayed perished—the very skeletons Your Highness saw upon arriving here.”

“What lies beyond the ice wall?”

“No one knows. But it is said that if one can pass through Guixi, one can cross the sea to reach the Nine Provinces.”

“If that’s the case, why not go around the wall? Must it be bored through?”

Bai Huan Guard’s expression suddenly turned solemn. Under the gentle candlelight, her face appeared as hard as iron. She said firmly:

“No. Apart from Guixi, there is no other route to the Nine Provinces. Your Highness saw it yourself in Daiyu—the vast Ming Sea holds no path forward. Guixi is where all rivers converge. Some say only by using the winds and currents of this place can one reach the Nine Provinces.”

Fang Jingyu remained silent.

Bai Huan Guard then softened her tone. “Your Highness has just awakened—eat some venison to warm yourself. Once you’ve recovered a bit, you may go to the city wall. Emperor Bai once led tens of thousands here to carve through the ice wall. It was not a wasted effort. The thinnest section of the wall lies just beyond the city—but to reach it, you must first visit the gate and pay respects to the one who guards the city.”

Fang Jingyu recalled the ancient city perched on the cliff. Its twin towers leaned askew, overgrown with tangled weeds. It was a desolate ancient fortress, like a lone tooth left in an old man’s mouth—stubborn and solitary, guarding its post. He asked:

“The city guardian? What is that place?”

Bai Huan Guard’s gaze turned distant, as if looking through the tent curtain into the past. The sky was filled with shattered jade-like snow, the ground thick with ice—just like back then. She had grown up here, witnessed the sea turn to dust, watched fate gather and scatter. Later, she returned to the scripture hall of Fanghu, keeping vigil with scrolls and dead things, a lone lamp her only companion. Guixi was the end of all things—but also the beginning.

Her lips moved, making a sound as delicate as a butterfly’s wingbeat:

“That place is—Emperor Bai’s City.”