HCAW 123

Chapter 123: Blood Rain Gleams upon Flowing Waters

Switching to the arm-mounted crossbow, he adjusted the bowstring and trigger. In an instant, he became an emotionless executioner.

Fang Jingyu had accepted the “fusion” with the “Great Immortal Yonghe,” allowing the small nine-tentacled creature to burrow into his body, replacing the extracted dragon iron bones. Then he grabbed the strips of meat left behind by Chu Kuang in the pigskin pouch and devoured them all, leaving nothing behind.

Divine power corroded his mortal flesh, covering his body in black flame-like scars. It felt as if a violent torrent was scouring his skull, splitting his head with agony. In the midst of it, he lost count of how many times he had wailed, self-harmed, or raved in madness. Countless painful memories flashed before him—sometimes the torment of being beaten by servants in the Fang estate, forced to crawl on the ground; other times the sight of his elder brother’s corpse, swarming with flies. But in the end, it was Chu Kuang’s sorrowful smile as he held his hand, whispering:

“Now, Your Highness has only me. I will be your army of thousands.”

He reached out, but grasped only empty air. The illusion shattered. When he finally calmed down, battered and bruised, he gasped for breath, only to realize his face was streaked with tears.

Struggling to his feet, Fang Jingyu went to the water’s edge to wash his face. There, he saw that most of his once-black hair had turned white. Dark flame-like patterns crawled up his face, half of which was now as ghastly as a demon’s. He felt nothing. Returning to the steps, he picked up the Vipashyin Blade. The once-crushing weight of the treasured sword no longer burdened him as before.

Fang Jingyu thought to himself: The Son of Emperor Bai had always been surrounded by admirers, everyone hoping he would become that radiant, heaven-blessed prodigy. But now, he never will. He will abandon his body, flesh, mind, and soul—his past and future, memories and desires.

In the depths of illusion, the small nine-tentacled creature whispered in his mind:

“Stubborn fool, do you know? Though we are different from mortals, the gods and buddhas of the mortal world were modeled after us.”

“In my prime, I had twelve arms, twenty-four arms, even ten thousand arms; nine eyes, one hundred and eight eyes, even eighty-four thousand eyes. The gods shape themselves from clay, and our origin is the soil of the Ming Sea. I am the prototype of all deities—everything begins with me, and all shall return to dust, ending with me.”

Fang Jingyu asked: “What will I become after ‘fusing’ with you?”

“I have never ‘fused’ with a living being. Perhaps you will cease to be mortal, devoured by divine power, driven to madness, no longer yourself.”

Fang Jingyu shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If it can save him, I would gladly grind my bones to dust.”

In that instant, excruciating pain engulfed him. He felt as if he had fallen into the Eighteen Hells, plunged into pools of blood and mountains of blades. His skin peeled away layer by layer, blood flowing to inscribe black patterns across his flesh. His limbs burned as if scorched by fire, his consciousness sinking like a setting sun into night-like darkness.

Yet in that moment, he wondered: They say Yama, King of Hell, rules the depths of the sea. If I fuse with the ‘Great Immortal Yonghe’ and am buried beneath the waves in the end, will I meet him again?

He did not know. He only knew that he emerged from the endless torment, the Ming boiling behind him, and now he stood before the hall.

Meanwhile, a sinister wind howled through Daiyu. In the hall, a man in embroidered court robes trembled violently. The Gu Bi Guard stared down at the youth standing before the palace, their smiles vanishing as their eyes bulged with fury:

“Fang… Jingyu!”

The black-robed youth nodded indifferently. “It’s me.”

“How are you here… How can you be here?!” Fatty Ji roared. “You should be dead—half your skull blown off by a fire lance, strung up on a flagpole!”

Fang Jingyu replied, “Yet I did not die. Instead, I have returned from the underworld.”

His lips curled into a cold, almost imperceptible smile as he spoke with eerie calm. “‘King Yama’ is my ally. He told me to slaughter every last one of you.”

In an instant, the black-robed youth unsheathed the Vipashyin Blade.

The blade scraped against its enameled gold-and-silver scabbard, releasing a roar like an ancient dragon, shaking the heavens. This was Emperor Bai’s sword—its weight and sharpness unmatched by any weapon. Fatty Ji trembled like a leaf. The moment the blade was drawn, it felt as if the very fabric of yin and yang had been split asunder, its cold light illuminating the world.

“K-Kill him!” Fatty Ji shrieked.

At his command, armored foot soldiers surged forward, their layered plate armor impenetrable from head to toe. Yet Fang Jingyu merely swung the Vipashyin Blade, and the heavy armor split apart under its edge. Blood gushed. Screams piled upon screams as the soldiers faltered, fear driving them back.

“Why retreat?! He’s just one man! How dare you shame yourselves before me!” Fatty Ji stamped his foot in fury.

Then, iron-helmed cavalry charged forth, their horses’ hooves thundering like a collapsing mountain. Yet Fang Jingyu remained composed. With a flick of his wrist, he revealed the crossbow mounted on his severed arm. A few sharp whooshes later, bolts streaked through the air like meteors. The warhorses screamed as they were struck down mid-gallop.

The officiers of Xian Mountain gaped in shock. The youth now possessed the strength to uproot mountains. Fused with the “Great Immortal Yonghe,” his arms were like iron, wielding the Vipashyin Blade as effortlessly as chopsticks. His movements were swift—blocking left, parrying right—even as arrows rained down, none could touch him. It was as if nothing in this world could stop him.

And when arrows neared him, shadows would rise from the ground—black, mud-like monks forming shields before Fang Jingyu. They cried:

“To arms! Fight with everything to protect Emperor Bai!”

They saw Fang Jingyu as the new emperor, protecting him at all costs.

Then, the Gu Bi Guard suddenly pointed and bellowed: “By my order—surround him! Cut him down!”

In an instant, the eyes of every cavalryman turned pitch-black, devoid of whites, becoming mere puppets under the Gu Bi Guard’s control. Moving as one, they advanced with blades, spears, and axes. Formations—Eight Trigrams, Long Snake—stacked upon each other, a storm of bodies ready to swallow the lone youth at its center.

Just then, the wind ceased and the clouds parted—the world fell into total silence.

Everything seemed to slow, as if congealed. Fang Jingyu swept forth with a blade.

Within that strike surged the sound of overlapping waves—as if the tide rolled in from a thousand li away. In an instant, the blade cleaved forth, and a flood of violent waves exploded outward, crashing into the sky!

That was the divine power belonging to the Great Immortal Yonghe. The pitch-black tide surged forward, and in a blink, swallowed countless cavalry. Fang Jingyu wielded the Vipashiyin Blade as if brandishing ink across a scroll, staining every inch of Daiyu in black.

Wherever he passed became as dark as the Ming Sea; behind him, waves billowed as if whales and sea beasts breathed and stirred. It was a scene of the utmost strangeness—that cold-faced youth wielded in his blade the power of the entire Ming Sea. With every stroke came roaring currents, lashing like wheels crashing on water. The sea surge opened a great rift in the military formation, like the jaws of a colossal beast.

Sweat beaded on Gu Bi Guard’s brow. He had lost his usual ease. He growled low, “Stop him—use any means necessary!”

Suddenly, the foot soldiers pounced forward, arms outstretched, trying to seize Fang Jingyu. But midair, their bodies abruptly exploded like fireworks. Black liquid gushed out of them, crashing down toward Fang Jingyu. It was the ‘Immortal Elixir’ dwelling inside them—Gu Bi Guard had made them self-detonate, attempting to catch Fang Jingyu off guard.

But the youth merely raised his eyes and lightly parted his lips:

“Stop.”

In that moment, the black sludge aimed to drench him combusted again—erupting as if there was an invisible shield around him. All the soldiers trembled with fear—because they felt this youth was like a god wielding supreme authority. Compared to him, they were mere fireflies before the moon.

Fang Jingyu strode freely among ten thousand troops, carrying the Vipashiyin Blade. He could feel the divine power Xiao Jiao had granted him circulating through his body, but his organs seared in pain—as if being devoured by ants. Gu Bi Guard glared at him, hatred burning in his heart, grinding his teeth:

“‘Son of Emperor Bai’… well then, it’s you… You’ve disrupted my Daiyu, my Peach Source.”

Fang Jingyu shook his head. “I am no longer ‘Son of Emperor Bai’. I will never become someone as radiant as him. I cannot follow in his footsteps. But I am willing to lay down my life and reach where he never did. Over eighty years ago, Emperor Bai led his armies here, and still perished at Guixu. I will go farther than he ever did.”

Gu Bi Guard sneered. “You borrowed the power of the Great Immortal Yonghe? That nine-tentacled octopus is a fraud—how can it compare to me, who surpasses gods and Buddhas?” He looked Fang Jingyu up and down, eyes suddenly full of malice, and respectfully said, “Your Highness, surely you know—we both wield divine power now. We may not be able to best each other quickly. With so much Immortal Elixir in us, even if fatally wounded, we won’t die immediately. A battle between us may last ten days and nights.”

“So what?”

“It matters little to me. But I fear you can’t afford the time. Don’t you have a close companion named Chu Kuang?”

In that instant, Fang Jingyu’s heart jolted. His breath tightened. It felt as if molten iron was coursing through his veins.

Xiao Jiao shouted in his mind: “Tight-lipped gourd! Steady! Calm your breath! If you panic, the corrosion will only spread faster!”

But how could he not panic? At this moment, Chu Kuang was his heart’s most vulnerable point. Fang Jingyu raised his eyes like a blade:

“What do you mean by that?”

Gu Bi Guard smiled lightly. “Your friend was quite unruly. He appeared before me not long ago to cause trouble. I couldn’t let it go, so I had him captured and disciplined. He’s currently hanging from the flagpole beside the hall. If Your Highness wishes to fight me for ten days and nights, I’d be honored—but I’m afraid your Chu Kuang will have bled dry by then…”

In that instant, fury exploded in Fang Jingyu’s chest.

These past days, he had worried about Chu Kuang constantly. Through Xiao Jiao’s memories, he’d learned Chu Kuang had been gravely injured and captured by Gu Bi Guard—his whereabouts unknown, his life uncertain. Fang Jingyu had rushed here without delay, pushing his body to the limit under divine force.

But he hadn’t imagined Gu Bi Guard to be this cruel. He had seen the method Fatty Ji used to make people Ji into a ‘meat-banners’—unless utterly broken and on the verge of death, one would never be hung on a flagpole.

“You swine,” he roared, blood-red fury in his eyes, “I’ll tear you into pieces!”

As the words left his lips, Fang Jingyu shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow. He remembered that behind the hall was an ancestral shrine with a stone flagpole—he and Chu Kuang had once viewed it from afar with a spyglass while patrolling the walls. Gu Bi Guard must be referring to that place. Gu Bi Guard smiled, flicked his fingers, and the soldiers moved like puppets, forming a circle to trap him.

Fang Jingyu roared: “Out of my way!”

With divine power, he burst open a path—but more soldiers quickly filled the breach. Fang Jingyu lifted his blade and cleaved through the wall of men. The burning patterns on his body flared with pain. Xiao Jiao cried, “Tight-lipped gourd, calm yourself!”

“At a time like this, how do I calm down?” Fang Jingyu shouted, wild and desperate. He no longer cared for Gu Bi Guard or Fatty Ji. He turned and charged toward the side of the hall.

No one knew how long he fought. Blood-soaked and gasping, he finally reached the shrine.

There, in the noonday sun, stone flagpoles stood upright. Five banners flew. Two had already been removed. Two figures were bound to the crossbeams—their feet swaying like banners in the wind.

Fang Jingyu looked up—and his heart nearly stopped.

On one pole, a figure was bound with a sack over his head. But the tattered peach-patterned cloak around him made it clear: Zheng Deli. On the other, blood streamed endlessly—a drop at a time, stabbing into Fang Jingyu’s heart like a thousand tiny blades.

“Chu Kuang!”

All composure in Fang Jingyu vanished. He swung his blade—the Vipashiyin Blade cleaved through the stone flagpole. He flew forward and caught the bloodied figure in his arms.

The man was light—frail. To Fang Jingyu, now fused with the Great Immortal Yonghe, he felt as light as a feather.

As he held him close, a piercing pain tore through Fang Jingyu’s heart. Chu Kuang’s face was white as paper. His body was covered in wounds. He was still and silent, eyes closed, breathless—like a corpse.

“Chu Kuang… wake up… Chu Kuang!” Fang Jingyu’s whole body felt submerged in icy water. With the slightest shake, blood poured from Chu Kuang’s body—unending. He shouted again, “Xiao Jiao! Use your divine power—save him! You’re the Great Immortal Yonghe—you can do anything, can’t you?!”

Xiao Jiao’s voice echoed weakly in his mind:

“Tight-lipped gourd… he’s taken too much Immortal Elixir… Unlike your ‘fusion’, his body has been ruined. He may not die right away, but he’s like a candle in the wind—his life is nearly extinguished…”

“You’ll think of something! You’ve lived for thousands of years—you’re smarter than any of us!”

No matter how Fang Jingyu pleaded, Xiao Jiao only replied with sorrow.

Fang Jingyu felt like he’d fallen into an icy abyss—even his bones were shaking. Behind him came the sounds of pursuit. Gu Bi Guard’s cavalry was closing in. And he… he was holding a bleeding, dying Chu Kuang—completely powerless.

Just then—he felt the person in his arms tremble.

Fang Jingyu quickly looked down—Chu Kuang slowly opened a slit of his eyes.

“Chu Kuang?”

Chu Kuang was weak as cobwebs—as if the lightest breeze could tear him apart.

He looked at Fang Jingyu, and on that ashen face, managed the faintest smile.

“You finally… came… to save me…”

His voice was light—thread-thin. Fang Jingyu gripped his hand, feeling it turn cold.

After those few words, the man in his arms suddenly went limp, like a spark fading into ash—quietly extinguished.

“I’ve waited… for this moment…”

“For ten years…”