HCAW 131
by LiliumChapter 131: Shadows of the Night, Solitary Together
Nearly a century ago, on the Xian Mountain Penglai—
That day, the first chill of winter stirred in the air; the skies were clear and solemn. Yet the city streets were alight with blazing lanterns, banners of red and green hung from eaves. Drums and cymbals rang out together, rainbow-colored silk flags fluttered high, and a stone statue was carried among the parade procession—depicting a valiant youth clad in silver armor adorned with dragon-scale patterns, radiating the aura of dragon and tiger. Several Daoists rode at the head on horseback, chanting incantations. At the rear trailed a mass of commoners in dark garb, all kneeling and bowing to the statue, voices rising like the buzzing of countless cicadas.
A little girl in a slanted tunic and a straw hat pushed through the crowd, eyes wide with curiosity. Near a wall crouched an old street musician, his scalp mottled with sores, his chopstick-thin hands drawing a rasping melody from a bamboo fiddle. The little girl ran up and asked:
“Grandpa, what day is it? Who’s that statue of?”
The old musician smiled. “Little one, you’re not from around here, are you? Today is the Imperial Birthday—it’s the Son of Heaven’s birthday.”
The girl blushed. “I—I’m a fisher girl. I don’t come ashore much, so I don’t know these things.” Her eyes suddenly sparkled. “The Emperor—that’s Emperor Bai, right? Mama told me about him.”
The old musician nodded kindly. Encouraged, the little girl beamed. “Mama said he was born with divine strength and is a great and righteous man. A few months ago when the Ming Sea froze, we were stranded on the water—it was His Majesty who drew his blade and split the ice so the boats could reach shore!”
The old man joined in, “Yes, he’s a man of divine destiny. It’s said there are monsters with seven eyes and nine tentacles roaming the Ming Sea, stirring up waves that wreck ships and drown people. But His Majesty went alone, bearing only a single blade. With one draw of his frost-edged sword, he struck down the great beast, staining the sea black with its blood.”
He picked up the bamboo zither and murmured, “There’s another tale—that at the borders of Penglai, strange beings have been rising in swarms, mad and deranged, gathering as demons and bandits, plundering the people’s lifeblood, even devouring human flesh. Emperor Bai has pursued them with strict justice, even entering the fray himself to slay the vicious fiends and bring peace to the region. Xian Mountain is still not yet at peace—remnants of the old generation like Lianshan and the followers of the God of Wars still hold out in rebellion, bringing suffering to the common folk. But Emperor Bai will surely pacify this land, unify Xian Mountain, and bring prosperity to all under heaven!”
As he plucked his bamboo fiddle, he softly sang the hymn composed for the young sovereign:
“Lofty and resplendent is Emperor Bai, his glory shields the realm. His virtue floods the world, shining upon the gates of heaven—”
The little girl listened, enraptured. Just then, a loud peal of bronze bells and horns rang from afar. The old musician nudged her and smiled:
“Go and see—the imperial procession of Emperor Bai is coming.”
In the distance, red and vermillion flags soared like a canopy over the city, the imperial entourage stretching like a dragon down the streets. Thousands of cavalrymen bore blades and halberds, gleaming with cold light, flanking the route. A great ox, along with several fine horses clad in gold and bronze harness, marched under ornate umbrellas adorned with silver tassels, pulling a majestic imperial carriage.
On either side of the road, the people knelt in waves, shouting long live the Emperor. Because Emperor Bai was known to live close to the people, few feared him—instead, they eagerly awaited the chance to see him. As the imperial carriage neared, the crowd roared like a tidal wave:
“Emperor Bai! Emperor Bai!”
The same little girl who had spoken to the old musician followed the crowd. She clutched a bunch of freshly plucked red arrow flowers, tiptoeing as high as she could. But the crowd was shoulder-to-shoulder, dense as a school of fish in a net—she couldn’t see a thing. So she squeezed through and managed to reach the front.
There, she caught a glimpse—and her eyes flew wide. She had never seen such a grand sight! Sleeves flared like clouds, fists raised in greeting—more people than crabs caught in a hundred nets. The dragon-carved carriage was covered in golden scales, glimmering like fish scales under the sun. The great ox pulling it was as massive as a hill, moving forward with heavy steps.
The guards ordered the people to clear the way, but their tone wasn’t harsh. The walls and streets swelled with heads, and the crowd tossed powdered lotus flowers and silk blossoms like falling petals onto the imperial path. Amid this floral rain, the carriage advanced slowly. The girl stared wide-eyed at the diamond-patterned gauze window. She knew—behind that window sat the Emperor, the living legend the people of Xian Mountain longed to behold.
Her heart pounded—but then a shriek erupted nearby. She turned to see a snot-nosed child who had lit a string of firecrackers. The boy, too young to understand, thought it added to the celebration—but he failed to hold them tightly. One firecracker landed on the back of a yellow dog nearby.
The firecracker exploded, and the dog yelped and bolted, biting wildly, throwing the crowd into chaos. Guards drew blades and axes to shield the carriage. The child, terrified by the sudden uproar, burst into tears. A soldier, seeing he was the cause, raised his sword to punish him—but a sturdy woman clad in pangolin-scale armor shouted:
“It’s just a kid! Why take it so seriously?”
“But… Lady Yu Jue Guard, what if he’s an assassin, trying to harm His Majesty…”
She bared a row of teeth like corn kernels and laughed. “So what if he is? If the sky falls, we Xian Mountain Guards will hold it up!” Then she barked, “Catch that yellow dog!”
The dog dashed into the cavalry ranks. Spooked, a horse reared—and the ox pulling the carriage grew agitated. The girl watched in horror as the once-orderly parade fell into complete disarray, the street boiling into chaos. The guards whipped wildly, shouting for calm—but it was no use.
Suddenly, the great ox roared and charged straight into the crowd.
People scattered like birds and beasts, screams rising everywhere. The little girl was frozen in place, tripped and fell. She looked up—one of the ox’s hooves, massive as a boulder, was about to come down on her head.
Just then, a flash of white flew from the cavalry—a youth on a snow-colored steed reached out and swept her up onto his horse.
The ox’s hoof slammed into the ground with an earth-shaking crash, knocking down people in its wake. The girl trembled all over, but felt no pain. She opened her eyes—and gasped. The one who had caught her was a boy of seventeen or eighteen, clad in white silk armor embroidered with dragon patterns, a white jade cloak edged in silver thread. His brows were sharp, eyes radiant, handsome beyond compare—as if he had stepped out of a painting.
The youth spurred his horse and galloped away from the ox’s path, agile as a swallow before a storm. When the ox lowered its head, charging with its horned brow like a wall of swords, the girl screamed—but the youth remained calm. His sword slid from its sheath, and in a flash of icy moonlight, met the ox’s horns head-on.
“Protect the Emperor!” cried Yu Jue Guard.
At that moment, a deep laugh rang from the crowd. A robust man burst forth like a dragon, clad in a brocade robe embroidered with a jeweled pheasant. Though his temples were graying, his frame was solid as iron. Laughing, he said, “Didn’t expect to be needed today! Yu Jue Guard, His Majesty will hold you accountable for this!”
He reached out and grabbed the ox’s tail, swinging it like a sling—and with sheer strength, halted the beast in its tracks. The ox howled, pinned as if under a mountain. The fallen people saw the rooster shaped jade at his waist—Yu Ji Guard, second among all the Xian Mountain Guards.
At that instant, an arrow whistled from the crowd, striking the ox’s neck. The arrowhead must have been coated in numbing powder made from black hellebore. The ox stumbled a few steps and collapsed with a crash.
The dust and smoke slowly settled. The common folk lay prostrate on the ground, only just beginning to recover from their fright. The young man reined in his horse and sheathed his sword. Yu Jue Guard stepped forward and bowed with cupped hands toward him: “Your Majesty, are you hurt? That such chaos should erupt today—it is my failing.”
The youth waved his hand with a smile. “A bit of disorder during the festival is no great matter. But we’ve startled the villagers along the road—go and help them up.”
And so the procession paused where it stood. Soldiers went to assist the civilians who had been knocked to the ground and began sweeping away the debris from shattered wood and tiles. The little girl’s heart was still pounding, but she felt herself gently lowered to the ground. The youth dismounted and smiled at her. “Are you hurt?”
His silver-armored smile was like a breeze through spring willow, making the girl’s cheeks suddenly flush bright red. She shook her head quickly. “N-no…” But as her gaze fell to the sword at his waist, she suddenly noticed the carved dragon pattern on the hilt—that was the mark of the imperial family. And then she recalled how the Xian Mountain Guards had addressed him just now—“Your Majesty.” Her heart jumped.
“You… You’re… the Emperor?”
She remembered the stone statue that had been carried in the parade—the white-clad youth’s face looked nearly identical, though even more radiant in person. The young man nodded. “I don’t care much for titles. Just call me Ji Zhi.”
The little girl stammered, “Mama said… calling the Emperor by name is a capital offense…”
Ji Zhi chuckled. “Not in this dynasty.”
He gently brushed dust from her clothes. His touch was soft. The little girl gazed up at him, dazed. He was nothing like the imposing figure her mother had described. Tentatively, she removed a large stone ring from her finger—it looked more like something sized for an adult—and nervously held it out to the silver-armored youth. “Big Brother Emperor, thank you for saving my life. I… I want to give you this.”
A woman in a lion-embroidered robe, with a jade seal at her waist and a stern expression, stepped forward quickly to intervene. “Your Majesty, such a suspicious item—must not be accepted…” But the white-clad youth said, “It’s nothing. Just a little ring. Don’t trample on the child’s goodwill.” He took the stone ring, smiled, and knelt slightly to pat her head.
The girl beamed. “It’s my mama’s stone ring. It’s the only valuable thing I have. Please don’t dislike it.”
Ji Zhi smiled. “How could I dislike it?” He turned the ring in his hand, seemingly quite intrigued. “What kind of stone is this?”
“It’s called ‘Taoyuan stone.’ Sometimes when we fish, we haul it up from the sea. Mama says it might be the bone of an ao turtle, sunk to the seabed for tens of thousands of years until it turned into this black stone. A lot of rich people want it—it’s really rare.”
“Why’s it called ‘Taoyuan stone’?”
The girl pursed her lips. “That I don’t know. I heard some learned nobleman named it.” She looked down at the bunch of red arrow flowers in her hand and suddenly frowned. After the chaos just now, they had wilted badly, petals fluttering away. “I… I was going to offer these flowers to you, Big Brother Emperor, but now they’re like this… I really can’t bring myself to…”
Ji Zhi saw she was upset and gave a warm smile. “It’s all right.” The girl suddenly slapped her forehead. “Wait! Big Brother Emperor, let me borrow that ring for a moment.”
She took the ring from Emperor Bai’s hand and threaded a wilted red arrowflower through it. Strangely, the moment the flower passed through the ring, its fallen petals grew back. Beaming, the girl handed the flower to Ji Zhi, who was now slightly wide-eyed.
“Your Majesty, this is for you.”
Ji Zhi stared at the flower and the stone ring, his gaze flickering as if lost in thought. The little girl grew uneasy. “Your Majesty doesn’t like it?”
The white-clad youth tousled her hair again and smiled like spring sunshine. “No, I like it very much. Thank you—it’s a most rare and precious gift. And since courtesy demands reciprocity, I shall give you a gift in return.” He took her hand, held it briefly, then released it with a smile. “Hold it tight.”
He mounted his horse, and the procession began to move once more. The white horse vanished into the dense ranks of riders. The people resumed their kneeling, shouting praises to the heavens. The little girl stood blankly in the crowd, feeling like everything that had just happened had been a dream. Then she looked down—and saw a silver coin resting in her palm, engraved with a side profile of Emperor Bai—like pine on a cliff, bold and dignified. Only then did she know it was all real. She looked up—the clouds above floated gently across the sky, just like the departing figure of that young sovereign.
—
In the Supreme Celestial Hall, the banquet was laid out and the music had begun. Dancers performed the Dance of the Seven Virtues, the music soaring with such intensity it stirred mountains and shook seas. The aroma of milk custard tea, sweet purple rice buckwheat cakes, and mountain-cooked lamb filled the air. Emperor Bai had not yet arrived, and since it was a private feast, formalities were relaxed. The ten Xian Mountain Guards sat at the tables, already deep in lively conversation.
Looking around, the nine guards were awe-inspiring. Yu Ji Guard was tall and mighty, like iron and steel cast in one. Gu Bi Guard was impeccably dressed, as elegant as spring blossoms. Bai Huan Guard wore a soft robe, refined and courteous. Bi Bao Guard exuded grace, warm and approachable.
Below the five senior guards, Ruyi Guard wore a tiger-ear hood like a little girl, nibbling on a candied hawthorn stick. Langgan, Mohe, and Yu Jue Guards drank Fiveleaf wine, chatting and laughing. Yu Yin Guard, stern as ice, sat quietly eating spiced fruit.
Gu Bi Guard couldn’t hold back and turned to Yu Ji Guard with a grin. “Haven’t seen you in a while, sir. You’ve grown even stronger—it seems your cultivation is advancing well!”
Yu Ji Guard laughed heartily. “Out with it, brat—what are you challenging me to this time? Wrestling? Arm wrestling? Stone throwing?”
“What’s so great about brute strength?” Gu Bi Guard narrowed his eyes like a fox. “Why not a game of double-six (traditional Chinese dice game)? If you lose, you give me your seat at this table.”
Yu Yin Guard said coldly, “Even if His Majesty isn’t here yet, you two shouldn’t cause a ruckus in the Supreme Celestial Palace.” Ruyi Guard snorted, “Let them be! The weather’s only getting colder. The red charcoal stock in the palace is probably running low. Their roughhousing at least warms the room a bit.”
Bi Bao Guard sighed. “The current situation isn’t peaceful. We’ve only just repelled the remnants of the God of War, and Tianfu Guard perished in the last battle. The wind and snow are growing harsher—who knows what the future holds.” Bai Huan Guard suddenly stood, took out a lacquered nanmu box from behind her, and smiled. “I happen to have a gift for you, Bi Bao Guard—a fine blue-furred cloak, perfect against the cold.”
Mohe Guard suddenly jumped up, rubbing his hands and grinning. “Speaking of which, I brought some Golden Crab Wine from my jurisdiction—it dispels cold and stirs the blood! I’ll pour some for you all.” Yu Jue Guard snorted, “You didn’t poison it, did you?”
“How could I dare, how could I dare!” said the Mohe Guard, though sweat suddenly broke out on his face as he took out a silk handkerchief to wipe it.
For a time, the banquet was harmonious and cheerful—except for the Yu Ji Guard and Gu Bi Guard, who had already left their seats and were engaged in a match of double-six. They weren’t playing by ordinary rules: rather than simply moving horse-shaped pieces, their blocky tokens flew wildly. Each one shot through the air like a piercing arrow—had any struck someone’s skull, it would surely have left a clean hole. But since none at the table were ordinary folk, no one minded. The dancers, drenched in sweat, had already withdrawn; only a few bold musicians continued playing from afar.
Just then, the Bai Huan Guard mused, “Speaking of which, ever since the Tianfu Guard died, His Majesty has indeed been in a prolonged slump.”
The Yu Yin Guard said calmly, “I wonder how the ranks among the Xian Mountain Guards will be arranged going forward.”
Gu Bi Guard, thinking that he might be able to move up a rank, couldn’t help but reveal a sly grin.
The Tianfu Guard held the foremost position among the Xian Mountain Guards. The previous holder had been a senior official from the late emperor’s court, and the role had always been one of intimate support beside the Son of Heaven. But during a bloody battle against Lianshan and the God of War’s forces, the Tianfu Guard sustained fatal injuries and died. Who would take on the role next—or whether the title would be abolished altogether—remained undecided.
The Mohe Guard suddenly gave a sycophantic smile to the Langgan Guard. “Speaking of which, I’ve heard some backdoor rumors that His Majesty has already chosen the next Tianfu Guard—and that person happens to be closely tied to you, Brother Fang, heh heh!”
At that, the Xian Mountain Guards at the table immediately changed expressions.
Gu Bi Guard gripped a fan painted with green mountains and white clouds, his knuckles pale. Though he still wore a smile, his tone had grown edged with bitterness. “Tied to him? What kind of tie?”
The Mohe Guard rubbed his hands and chuckled:
“The new ‘Tianfu Guard’—is his son!”
An uproar broke out at the table. Though the current Xian Mountain Guards were mostly young talents, no one had ever seen someone surpass his forebears to such an excessive degree—leaping past an entire generation to seize the foremost position.
The Yu Ji Guard said nothing, but his mustache quivered.
Langgan Guard looked around, set down his cup, and offered a modest bow. “It is His Majesty’s will. The ‘Tianfu Guard’ has always served close by the emperor. Since the previous one was a senior courtier, he was quite strict with His Majesty during childhood. So this time, His Majesty wished for a change—someone young and promising to stay at his side. My son was fortunate beyond measure to win His Majesty’s favor.”
The Ruyi Guard scoffed. “So what you’re saying is, the rest of us are just old bones?”
“How could I dare say such a thing!”
“I’ve heard your son is a rare genius, one in a hundred years—his swordplay is said to be divine, and he’s mastered the rest of the seventeen martial arts as well. Most importantly, he’s perfectly attuned to the ‘Immortal Elixir,’ isn’t that right?”
The Bai Huan Guard suddenly smiled.
Langgan Guard returned the smile. “Indeed. The ‘Immortal Elixir’ that His Majesty brought back—while it strengthens the body, it is also difficult to endure in large amounts. My son has no great talent, except that he can withstand its hardship.”
Hearing this, the other Xian Mountain Guards’ eyes flickered, their hearts easing somewhat. After all, that substance—sought by Emperor Bai together with the Great Immortal Yonghe—was notoriously hard to master. If someone could truly endure it, they were indeed a rare and precious talent.
Yet the Xian Mountain Guards had always been proud. Now, many were quietly unconvinced. Gu Bi Guard chuckled coldly:
“A young fledgling, rising straight to the top? Why not let me spar with him and see who’s truly fit to bear the title of ‘Tianfu Guard’?”
The Yu Ji Guard stroked his beard and laughed:
“Gu Bi boy, beat me first before you start making bold claims!”
The two of them locked eyes, brilliance flashing as they returned to their game of double-six with the air of devouring each other—pieces flying like missiles.
Yu Ji Guard sneered:
“The Son of Heaven is still young—he’s bound to have some absurd ideas. If it’s simply a matter of close service, who here at this table couldn’t do the job?”
Just as he finished speaking, a clear voice rang out from behind the zitan screen:
“Who’s speaking ill of Us?”1 朕 (zhèn) is the self-reference used exclusively by emperors.
That voice struck like thunder crashing down on everyone at the table.
At once, the hall fell silent.
The music stopped.
The dancers dropped to their knees.
Even the Xian Mountain Guards were mute.
From behind the screen emerged a slender figure in a plain white robe, jade clasp at the waist. It was a refined-looking youth, dressed simply, yet exuding the awe of imperial authority. Ji Zhi stepped into the hall, smiling faintly. The Xian Mountain Guards all knelt in unison to pay respect.
When the rites were done, Yu Ji Guard laughed:
“How could it be ill talk? It’s merely that I was too dull to understand Your Majesty’s thinking. I humbly ask for clarification.”
The Xian Mountain Guards all kept their heads bowed. Gone was their earlier arrogance—for they knew well that Emperor Bai was not as naive as he looked.
Though Ji Zhi treated the common people with warmth, he showed no mercy to enemies. His methods were decisive and ruthless, striking like thunder, and sometimes left even the guards uneasy.
“I simply felt that the Xian Mountain Guards ought to have a new face among them. The new Tianfu Guard is the son of Langgan Guard, personally recommended by his predecessor, a brilliant talent who carries his forefather’s legacy. It is only right that I appoint him.” Ji Zhi spoke in a calm voice.
Ruyi Guard placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “But placing him straight at the top—isn’t that breaking the rules?”
“The rule of this court is that the capable are appointed. That is Our law,” Emperor Bai said with a serene smile. “If you all are unconvinced, then challenge him on the platform another day. Winner takes the seat, loser yields in full.”
He knew full well these proud warriors were like wild stallions—best handled with strength, not gentleness.
Since Emperor Bai had spoken thus, the guards looked at one another in silence.
At last, Yu Yin Guard said calmly, “Since Your Majesty has appointed the new Tianfu Guard—why is he not here?”
Ji Zhi replied, “He is by My side. In times of danger, he will appear.”
“Hah! What a sneaky brat!” Ruyi Guard barked, then realized the impropriety of her words and pouted at Langgan Guard. “I’m not insulting your son. Just saying—it’s a bit rude of him not to show up at our banquet tonight.”
Langgan Guard only smiled without a word.
But Gu Bi Guard laughed with a hint of irritation:
“In times of danger—what danger could there be with all of us here? There won’t be any moment for him to shine! If such a moment does come, I bet the boy will have fled already!”
Ji Zhi folded his arms. “If you don’t believe me, then test him.”
“How?”
“Take out your Panguan Brush and stab Me.”
Cold sweat poured from Gu Bi Guard’s brow. He laughed nervously:
“Your Majesty jests. If I truly drew my brush, You’d have me jailed for treason.”
Ji Zhi blinked. “If I wanted to imprison you, I wouldn’t need such a poor excuse. I said stab—so go ahead and stab.”
Still sweating, Gu Bi Guard couldn’t read Ji Zhi’s intent. The will of the Son of Heaven is unfathomable, he thought.
Cautiously, he picked up a double-six token.
“The Panguan Brush is out of the question, but a game piece should be fine?”
Ji Zhi said, “Go ahead.”
Gu Bi Guard held the token between two fingers and flicked it toward Ji Zhi. The Xian Mountain Guards were so powerful that even a light flick sent the piece flying like an arrow. He gauged the force carefully—he knew that with Emperor Bai’s skill, the token could be neutralized entirely, without harm.
The white-robed youth stood still, arms folded, making no move to defend. The token sped toward his nose—mere inches away.
At that very instant, a ripple stirred in the air.
Almost no one could see what happened. There was only the faint tremor, like a dragonfly’s wingbeat—and then the token exploded into dust.
At the same time, all the other game pieces on the board burst apart, leaving only scattered splinters and crumbs of wood and stone.
For a heartbeat, even these battle-hardened warriors forgot to breathe.
What they had just witnessed was a masterstroke of swordsmanship.
A shadowy figure silently appeared behind Emperor Bai, alighting like a butterfly on a flower.
The figure wore a dark cloak, and in his hand was a jet-black sword forged from Zhu Mountain iron. The scene brought to mind an old saying: “Faintly, something is there, but none can discern its shape.”
Both man and sword had appeared without a sound or trace—ghostlike.
The hall was deathly silent, broken only by the sound of hearts beating and the newcomer’s approaching footsteps.
By candlelight, his face came into view—hidden beneath a silver mask marked with swan patterns. From his pale, sharp chin, it was clear he was about the same age as the emperor.
Beneath the mask, faint black patterns could be seen—clear proof that the “Immortal Elixir” had taken root within him.
He stepped forward and sheathed his sword, each motion clean and fluid as flowing water.
He bowed, neither humble nor arrogant:
“Tianfu Guard, Fang Minsheng, greets you all.”
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