HCAW 110

Chapter 110: Thoughts Worlds Apart

In a flash, Fang Jingyu summoned all his strength, turning the dagger’s tip and driving it straight through his palm!

Pain tore through his body, and blood streamed down in torrents. In that searing agony, Gu Bi Guard’s echoing demonic voice faded slightly. Still uneasy, Fang Jingyu pulled the blade free, gritted his teeth, and raised it again—this time, aiming for his own ears. But just as he was about to strike, Xiao Jiao cried out in alarm from inside his ear:

“Wait!”

Fang Jingyu froze. Xiao Jiao shouted, indignant, “Are you crazy? Hurting yourself out of nowhere—while I’m still in your ear! You trying to stab me too?!”

Fang Jingyu’s teeth chattered, and after a moment, he rasped, “I… I was about to lose control to Gu Bi Guard. When he stabbed me… his consciousness invaded my mind. If I hadn’t done this, I—I might’ve killed you.”

Just then, Chu Kuang looked back and saw the blood streaming from Fang Jingyu’s hand. His expression changed in an instant. “Your Highness!”

Xiao Jiao grew serious. “All right. Let me try to drive that bastard out of your head.”

She extended a tentacle and slowly reached deep into Fang Jingyu’s ear canal. At first, it felt like an unbearable itch. Then, like an ice needle piercing his brain, it brought a sliver of calm to his fevered thoughts. But before long, she hissed and said in a trembling voice:

“I gave it my all, but I can only suppress Gu Bi Guard’s consciousness for a moment. His fire-poison has already seeped through your whole body, especially into your dragon iron frame. The only way… the only way…”

“What is it?”

“We have to pull out your dragon iron frame. Only then can we expel the poison.”

In that moment, Fang Jingyu’s heart sank. To him, the dragon iron frame was like the cane that supported his entire body. Without it, he’d be reduced to crawling on the ground like a worm. And pulling it out now, in the middle of their flight—would be suicidal.

Chu Kuang furrowed his brows and said quietly, “Your Highness, the streets ahead are crowded. Let’s take the waterway instead. Hold on.”

He urged his horse forward, the surging crowd following like a tide. In the pitch-black night, the river was dense with straw rafts, broad-decked boats, bamboo punts—all packed together across the water. As they reached the riverbank, a Red Horse boat happened to be moored nearby, with a crooked-looking canopy on its deck. Decorated boats used in rituals or festivals, often associated with deities, exorcisms, or parades.

The curtain fluttered—and a head popped out. It was Zheng Deli. Upon seeing them, he called out urgently:

“Quick, get on!”

Without hesitation, Chu Kuang abandoned the horse, slung his weapons over his shoulder, and lifted Fang Jingyu onto the boat. The pursuers reached the shore but didn’t dare enter the water. One by one, they stood still, eyes black and hollow. Zheng Deli and Chu Kuang shoved the oars hard, steering the boat away from the shore. The night was pitch-dark all around them. It felt like they were adrift in a void. The figures on the bank gradually faded into rows of tiny sesame seeds. Zheng Deli muttered:

“Strange… Why didn’t they come into the water after us?”

“Because Daiyu is their land,” Xiao Jiao bragged, “but the Ming Sea, and all waters that lead to it, are my domain. The domain of ‘Great Immortal Yonghe’.”

She crawled out from Fang Jingyu’s ear—still in the shape of a palm-sized nine-tentacled octopus. Zheng Deli’s eyes widened. “M-Miss Qin ?!”

“Eggless Zheng—how’d you know it was me?” Xiao Jiao put her tentacles on her hips, blinking all seven eyes in surprise.

“Your tone… and your voice. It sounds just like Miss Qin.”

Zheng Deli shallowed the rest of his words. He had reserved this Red Horse boat in advance under the name of the Bai Huan Guard, all because he had read what was written on the bone pieces—he knew exactly what was going to happen. Even the fact that Xiao Jiao would revert to her true form as the Great Immortal had been foretold.

“Gu Bi Guard won’t dare enter the Ming Sea. They won’t be catching up anytime soon. We can breathe for now,” said Xiao Jiao.

Zheng Deli nodded. “I’ve stocked the boat with food and medicine. We won’t be wanting for anything for a few days.”

As the boat pulled away, shadows of mountain peaks and Daiyu’s city alleys faded behind the mist. Birdcalls and insect chirps filled the night—quiet and forlorn. It felt as though the world had cast them aside. Chu Kuang suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Zheng Deli by the shoulders, shouting:

“Save His Highness!”

He was drenched in blood, bones fractured in multiple places, but he paid no mind. His eyes were bloodshot, face terrifying. Zheng Deli was startled and hurried to check on the unconscious Fang Jingyu. Seeing him covered in wounds, he quickly opened his medical kit.

After cleaning and bandaging the wounds, he checked Fang Jingyu’s pulse and muttered with concern, “He’s running a high fever. His pulse is floating and tight. This illness came out of nowhere…”

“He’s been poisoned by Gu Bi Guard’s demonic consciousness,” Xiao Jiao said, curling her lip. “The fire poison is concentrated in his iron frame. It must be removed.”

Chu Kuang turned immediately. “Zheng Deli—can you take it out?”

Zheng Deli had read about this on the bone fragments, so he wasn’t surprised. But operating on someone aboard this crude boat was no small task. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he said cautiously:

“I’ll try.”

No one knew how much time passed.

When Fang Jingyu finally woke from his coma, pain wracked his entire body like fire.

He looked down. His body was bare, covered only by a sleeping robe. Thin scars crossed his limbs, stitched with fish gut thread, as if someone had once traced his meridians and cut him open.

The feeling was familiar. He had once endured something like this on Yingzhou, when the Ruyi Guard set his bones after the Yu Ji Guard shattered them. But now something felt different. His arms and legs were limp—he couldn’t even lift a finger. It felt as though his soul were imprisoned in a fleshly cage.

“Tight-lipped gourd, you’re awake?”

Xiao Jiao crawled over to the bedside, eyes bright with relief. Fang Jingyu nodded weakly and rasped:

“What happened to me…”

“You were injured and poisoned by Gu Bi Guard. To remove the fire poison, Zheng Deli had to take out your your iron bones. You lost a lot of blood! If I hadn’t used divine power to heal you, you’d be pushing daisies right now.”

Fang Jingyu took a deep breath, summoned his internal energy, and managed to lift a finger. “Thank him for me… And from now on…”

“You’ve got no frame now,” said Xiao Jiao. “And we’re fugitives in Daiyu. There’s no way to build you a new one. You’ll just have to make do for a while.”

Fang Jingyu slowly sat up, looking at his now-soft and powerless limbs. After everything, he had returned to where he began. But this time, he had deep unease. The shore was lined with enemies. They drifted along in this boat, their supplies wouldn’t last forever. And now, he was a cripple and a burden. How could they ever escape Daiyu?

That anxiety lingered for days. He lay on the bed, unmoving, while the little nine-tentacled octopus spat onto his wounds, claiming it was “Immortal Elixir.” He stared at the deck planks, mind tangled with thoughts. Chu Kuang visited him three times a day, always grim-faced, feeding him spoon by spoon. Fang Jingyu asked, “What’s the plan?”

Chu Kuang shrugged. “We’ll take it one step at a time. You’re the one who makes the decisions. You’re the bow—I’m the arrow. An arrow doesn’t choose where it flies—it just follows the bow’s aim. Having no opinion is my opinion.”

Fang Jingyu felt even more anxious.

One day, the Red Horse boat drifted close to shore, and a noise carried faintly through the planks.

Fang Jingyu whispered to Xiao Jiao beside his pillow, “Xiao Jiao… can you go see what’s happening outside?”

Xiao Jiao crawled down from the bed and soon clambered back, saying, “There’s a noisy crowd gathering on the shore, not sure what for. I picked this up—have a look.” She extended a tentacle, holding a roll of hemp paper.

Fang Jingyu regulated his breath, summoned energy through his body, and slowly sat up to take the scroll. As he unrolled it, his expression froze in shock.

It was a proclamation, announcing that the entire city of Daiyu was now scouring every corner for him. That Fatty Ji had falsely accused him of murdering the Bi Bao Guard and issued a decree: if Fang Jingyu did not surrender, all his captured companions—those picked up from the beach and now imprisoned—would be executed one by one.

At the end of the notice were several portraits—faces Fang Jingyu knew well. They were his boatmen, who had followed him all the way from Yingzhou. His entire body trembled, and he remained silent for a long while. He thought of the eager, smiling faces of the soldiers when they’d parted at the gates of Yingzhou. It was like a knife twisting in his heart. Back then, they’d believed in him, followed him with their lives—and now, because of his shallow foundation and weak shelter, they were about to pay the price.

In that moment, injuries and pain no longer mattered. Fang Jingyu took a deep breath and staggered to his feet, leaning against the side of the bed and grabbing the Hanguang Sword.

He had to find Fatty Ji. He had to save them.

But as he stumbled toward the cabin door, a figure suddenly blocked his path. Chu Kuang’s face was dark as thunder, eyes cold.

“Where are you going, Your Highness?”

“I’m going to save them. Didn’t you hear the commotion outside? Fatty Ji is about to execute our comrades!”

“Your Highness is gravely injured. Going now is no different than throwing an egg at a rock.”

“So what? If I don’t go, they’ll die for nothing!”

Chu Kuang shook his head. “After so many failed attempts, why haven’t you learned your lesson? What you need to do now is rest until you’ve recovered.”

Fang Jingyu panted. “It takes a hundred days for bones and tendons to heal. How long do I have to wait to save them? What if they’re already at the execution platform before I recover? Or do you have some clever strategy to rescue them?”

“If not—then let them be executed.”

Fang Jingyu jolted, staring at him in shock. When had Chu Kuang become the kind of person who could say such heartless things?

But Chu Kuang didn’t flinch. “I’ve only ever protected one person—Your Highness. You’re in no state to charge into danger. The boatmen knew the risks when they followed you. They knew they might die.”

“So you want me to abandon them and wait here to die?!”

“Emperor’s son Bai is about to take the throne. The city’s security is tighter than ever. Escaping now is impossible. Let them give up the search and wait a while. When defenses loosen, Your Highness can return to Yingzhou for reinforcements.”

“Release the tern¹ “飛奴” (fēinú) in raws, literally means “flying slave”, and that is the direct, literal translation.  taken from ‘Mule’ and notify Yingzhou—can’t we?”

“And what if no reinforcements come? This concerns Your Highness’s life. We must be cautious.”

“When you say ‘wait a while’—how long do you mean?”

“A month or two, at best. Years, at worst.”

Fang Jingyu roared, “I can’t wait that long! By then, the captured boatmen will all be dead!”

“There’s a saying in the Nine Provinces,” Chu Kuang said. “‘Sleep on firewood, taste gall.’ Great undertakings require sacrifices²enduring hardship and humiliation to prepare for revenge or future success.. Most things in life can’t be done perfectly. To protect Your Highness, I must sacrifice others.”

“Who gave you the right to say that?! They didn’t need to die! You decide their life and death with just one sentence!”

Furious, Fang Jingyu grabbed Chu Kuang by the collar with trembling arms, strengthened by energy despite his weakness. Chu Kuang said flatly, “So, Your Highness wants everyone to be saved and everything to be perfect?”

“Of course!”

“It can’t be done,” Chu Kuang said coldly. Fang Jingyu glared. “Why are you so sure?”

“If everything could end perfectly, Emperor Bai wouldn’t have fallen, and the Tianfu Guard wouldn’t have met a tragic end. They were heroes of their time—what makes Your Highness think you can accomplish what even they couldn’t? You know the truth. Why do you think the Langgan Guard waited ten years before acting against the Yu Ji Guard and the Mohe Guard? That was the cost.”

“I’m not Emperor Bai. I’m not the Tianfu Guard…” Fang Jingyu began, but before he could finish, Chu Kuang suddenly stepped forward. His eyes were like blades, stabbing through him.

“If the world could be perfect—then why did your brother die for you?”

It hit Fang Jingyu like a thunderclap. He stood frozen, shivering. Chu Kuang’s red double pupil seemed to blaze with fire, filled with rage.

Since escaping the Heavenly Pass of Penglai together, Chu Kuang had always obeyed him, clung to him like a loyal dog. But now, for the first time, he showed his true self.

The words pierced Fang Jingyu’s chest like poison-tipped needles. The pain of ten years past reopened, fresh and bleeding. He trembled.

“I…”

After a moment, he steadied himself and said, “It was Father’s plan. I never intended for my brother to die for me. I still feel guilty. But… since Father planned so far ahead, he must have made other arrangements. My brother… perhaps his men saved him, and he’s still alive somewhere on Xian Mountains… In any case, if we just think harder, we’ll find a way to save everyone—just like Father did.”

Chu Kuang suddenly sneered. His eyes were cold, and his voice turned sharp:

“The Langgan Guard never saved your brother. Not even once.”

Fang Jingyu froze.

Chu Kuang lowered his lashes. His eyes were void of life.

“Has Your Highness never considered—why would Fang Minsheng be the one sacrificed? Did he choose to be treated like filth, a worthless slave? Every night passed from one bed to another, seared with branding irons, whipped and kicked. Long nights without rescue. No dawn. The Langgan Guard needed him to be a pawn. Why do you think you can promise a perfect ending for all?”

Every word sliced into Fang Jingyu’s heart like a dull knife. He was speechless, gasping. Then Chu Kuang suddenly gave a faint smile—one that eerily resembled his brother—but his double pupil glinted with mad intensity.

He grabbed Fang Jingyu, pressing their foreheads together, and growled:

“What I learned from the Langgan Guard is this—whatever it takes, I will get Your Highness out of here. So many have already died for this goal. I can’t let it be in vain. ‘Whatever it takes’ means sacrificing pawns for the king—giving up the small for the great.”

Chu Kuang let go, patted Fang Jingyu’s shoulder, and said with a gentle smile:

“If Your Highness dares speak again of dying for others, I’ll break your limbs and make sure you can’t walk. You don’t want me to be that ruthless, do you? Then sleep. Rest. Heal.”

Fang Jingyu was stunned by the storm in Chu Kuang’s eyes. He knew—it was all true. Chu Kuang was a lunatic in human skin. He could do anything.

Chu Kuang walked away, leaving Fang Jingyu standing dumbfounded in the cabin.

The Red Horse boat was thin-walled. Zheng Deli, tending a fire and brewing medicine in the next cabin, had heard the entire exchange. Carrying the medicine, he waited until Chu Kuang lay down in the adjacent room. Then he called out:

“Laborer Chu, Jingyu is still injured. You didn’t need to speak so harshly.”

Chu Kuang’s voice came through the wall, weary: “Was I too harsh? He’s as stubborn as an ox. If I don’t talk like that, he’ll run off again to fight the Xian Mountain Guard alone.”

Zheng Deli shook his head and walked into the cabin with the medicine. Chu Kuang was sitting upright, resting against the wooden wall, the Fan Ruo Bow on his lap, eyes closed.

Zheng Deli said, “I know you mean well. I know you’re not truly cruel. You wouldn’t sacrifice everyone just for the prince. But with enemies pressing close, let’s not turn against each other.”

He muttered a few more words. Ever since Chu Kuang had avenged Xiao Feng and shot Young Master Tao, Zheng Deli never believed Chu Kuang was a bad man.

But Chu Kuang didn’t respond.

Zheng Deli knelt and nudged him. “Laborer Chu?”

Only then did he realize—Chu Kuang had become shockingly thin. His skin clung to his bones like paper, wrapped only in thin cloth. The image of Chu Kuang breaking through that sea of enemies to save Fang Jingyu flashed through his mind. It already felt like a dream.

But Chu Kuang remained still, as if asleep. Zheng Deli gently called again:

“Laborer Chu?”

Suddenly, Chu Kuang collapsed to the side. Zheng Deli gasped—his hands came away covered in blood.

He rushed to check on him and remembered that Chu Kuang had fought through Gu Bi Guard’s possessed horde, not unscathed. But in the days since, while Zheng Deli had been consumed with healing Fang Jingyu, he had neglected Chu Kuang.

And Chu Kuang—had endured it all in silence, without a word of complaint.

Now, he lay on the floor, a pool of blood soaking the planks beneath him. His face was pale as frost.

He looked… lifeless.

• 1
  “飛奴” (fēinú) in raws, literally means “flying slave”, and that is the direct, literal translation. 
• 2
  enduring hardship and humiliation to prepare for revenge or future success.