HCAW 133

Chapter 133: A Meeting of Spirit and Will

Several days later, in the Jiwei Desert, yellow sand roared on the wind, and the gale wailed like a ghost.

Inside the grand command tent, a young man clad in silver scale armor held a pearl-inlaid white dragon parasol in his arms, eyes sharp and steady as he studied the war map before him.

Xian Moutain had once been torn by war, split into the factions of Lianshan, the Warlord, and Emperor Bai. The Warlord was now destroyed, but Lianshan still ravaged the borderlands with reckless raids. This round of battle had already dragged on for months, with both sides locked in stalemate. Though the young emperor’s heart was in turmoil, his face betrayed nothing. Suddenly, a scout rushed into the tent in panic, throwing himself to the ground:

“Report—report!”

The young emperor snapped his head up. “What is it?”

The scout’s cloak was stiff with dried blood, his face streaming with tears and snot. “Tianfu Guard… Lord Tianfu Guard… has fallen in battle!”

In that instant, the words struck Ji Zhi’s ears like a thunderclap. He abruptly stood, silent and unmoving. The wind lifted a flap of the tent, revealing a world of rolling dust beyond, burying countless bleached bones. Slowly, the young emperor cast his gaze into the distance, yet his words were spoken to the kneeling scout:

“How is that possible?”

The scout said nothing, only kowtowed endlessly, as if a storm was brewing in the emperor’s chest. A body was brought in, wrapped in a deerskin cloak. Emperor Bai stepped forward, his hand trembling as he lifted the cloak—beneath it lay a familiar aged face, appearing to sleep, though his beard and hair were stained crimson. Ji Zhi clenched his fist and growled:

“How is that possible!”

His furious roar echoed through the tent, and a heavy silence followed. At last, his voice rasped:

“Who took his life?”

“It was a fierce general under Lianshan… that man calls himself ‘Xing Tian’…”

“Bring me a blade!” All at once, thunder exploded in the emperor’s chest. He strode forward, tearing off his silver cloak. “I’ll claim that barbarian’s worthless head myself! That brute dares lay hands on my cherished general?!”

“Your Majesty mustn’t act rashly!” came a voice from the shadows. A woman in dark robes stepped into the light and bowed gracefully. A jade seal swayed from her waist—Yu Yin Guard. With her forehead to the floor, she said, “I believe Lord Tianfu Guard must have advised Your Majesty before: Lianshan is a perilous foe, and this ‘Xing Tian’ of his is no ordinary general. Your Majesty’s life is of inestimable value—it must not be risked so lightly. If blood must be shed, let us do it for you.”

Ji Zhi’s chest burned, his throat flamed—but he remembered Tianfu Guard’s words. He had warned him many times of Lianshan’s danger. What he should do now was marshal his forces, not charge blindly. Taking a deep breath, Ji Zhi asked, “Is Yu Ji Guard present?”

Another figure emerged from the darkness, this one tall and broad-shouldered. The man chuckled. “What’s your command, little emperor?”

Still staring at the sweeping sands outside, Ji Zhi asked, “If you were to fight Xing Tian head-on, what odds would you give yourself?”

“Odds?” The man in the shadows shook his head. “I’ve never met the man—what odds can I speak of?” For the arrogant Yu Ji Guard to show even this much humility, it was clear the odds of victory were far from certain.

“Take your Heavenly Mountain gold claws,” Ji Zhi said, “and go with Gu Bi Guard and Langgan Guard to lead the charge.” There was a faint twist of pain in his voice. “Though Tianfu Guard had aged and was no longer what he once was, he was still a seasoned warrior. The man who defeated him cannot be ordinary. Be cautious.”

The Xian Moutain Guards bowed, faces solemn. Just as they turned to leave, someone suddenly cried, “Ah! There’s a strange box outside the tent!”

Ji Zhi frowned and stepped forward. The crowd parted before him, revealing a small box left at the entrance of the command tent. No one had noticed who had placed it there. The box was carved with a swan goose pattern—Tianfu Guard’s seal. Thin wisps of steam still rose from it.

A strong stench of blood filled the air. Ji Zhi didn’t dare be careless—he ordered it opened.

Inside, blood pooled fresh and red. The onlookers stared in stunned disbelief.

Resting inside was a severed human head, cleanly sliced at the neck. Wild beard, glaring eyes, dark skin, bared teeth—it looked exactly like a yaksha from hell.

The owner of that head was none other than the infamous “Xing Tian,” the butcher under Lianshan’s banner.

_______

Night had fallen. Above the tent lamps, the stars gleamed like scattered silver. The attendants had all been dismissed. Ji Zhi paced inside the tent, more and more restless with each step.

Suddenly, he spoke to the empty air:

“Come out.”

The tent flaps swayed softly, but made no sound. Ji Zhi crouched down and scraped a pebble from between the floorboards, tossing it at the curtain like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Come out!”

A faint shadow appeared on the curtain. Ji Zhi flung it aside—and saw Fang Minsheng standing silently before him. His face was expressionless, but his double-pupil eye shone like a gem in the firelight, brighter than the stars above. This boy truly was like a shadow—quiet and ever-present, always hidden by his side. Ji Zhi frowned:

“Did you kill Xing Tian? Was it you who left that head outside the tent?”

Fang Minsheng nodded.

“How did you do it?”

“Lord Tianfu Guard held him off in front. I ambushed him from behind. But the battle was urgent… I didn’t have time to turn back for the lord. I… caused his death.”

Fang Minsheng’s tone was flat, as if he gave no weight to such a perilous deed. But those words made Ji Zhi’s brow knit tighter. He walked over and slapped the boy’s shoulder.

It wasn’t a hard blow, but Fang Minsheng trembled, his eye twitching, body shaking uncontrollably. When Ji Zhi drew his hand back, he saw his palm was smeared with blood. To take down the man who killed a Xian Mountain Guard—no matter how gifted he was, Fang Minsheng could not have escaped unscathed. Ji Zhi lowered his eyes, his voice cold:

“You’re this badly wounded and still refuse to rest?”

Fang Minsheng opened his mouth, hesitated, then finally said through gritted pain:

“Because I must protect Your Majesty.”

“Who gave you such order?!” Ji Zhi snapped. “Go rest. Until you’re healed, you’re not to appear before me!”

Fang Minsheng said nothing, but stood there stubbornly, like a little dog that wouldn’t leave his side—neither scoldings nor shoving would work. Ji Zhi took a long breath and said again:

“You don’t have to stick so close. I’m not some fragile thing. If it comes to martial skill, I can stand toe-to-toe with the Xian Moutain Guards. Step back a little—I won’t die so easily.”

“To be Your Majesty’s guardian is my life’s sole purpose. I will protect you, and watch over you.”

Ji Zhi scoffed. “Was that what Tianfu Guard drilled into you? That if you did this, you’d inherit his title? He was the head of the Xian Mountain Guards! I never said that seat was yours for the taking.”

Fang Minsheng said, “Even if Your Majesty does not grant it to me, I will still remain steadfast, defending you with my life.”

He spoke with utmost sincerity, the flickering firelight glinting in his twin pupils like small flames. Ji Zhi felt goosebumps rise—he hadn’t expected anyone to speak such embarrassing words aloud, and yet there was not a shred of falsehood in Fang Minsheng’s resolve. Ji Zhi opened his mouth, intending to say one thing, but the words that came out took a different shape:

“Your martial skills are impressive, and you’re constantly at my side. That only makes me more anxious. What if you turn traitor, strike me down in a single blow—what then?”

Fang Minsheng lowered his head, staring at his toes. “I would never turn on Your Majesty.”

“Talk is cheap. How do you expect me to believe you?”

“Does Your Majesty not still have the antidote I gave you for arsenolite pills?” Fang Minsheng’s eyes flickered with a faint sorrow. “Every five days, I must receive the antidote from Your Majesty. Only then can my life be preserved.”

“How do I know what you gave me was truly arsenolite pills?” Ji Zhi asked coldly. “For all I know, you weren’t poisoned at all and gave me a fake medicine to deceive me.”

Fang Minsheng hung his head lower and mumbled, “They’re real…”

He seemed tongue-tied, unwilling to argue further in his own defense. Ji Zhi circled around him, suspicious, watching for a crack in his composure. “By the way, it’s been six days since you last took the pills. Why are you still perfectly fine?”

Ji Zhi eyed him keenly, his doubt about the pill’s authenticity intensifying. So he said coldly, “Fang Minsheng, how dare you commit the crime of deceiving your emperor! I had the imperial physicians examine the pills—you gave me sugar pellets. As for the antidote, I tossed it long ago!”

Fang Minsheng’s eyes widened in shock, but his whole body trembled, unable to refute. And then, suddenly, a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his lips. The boy staggered, reached for something to brace himself, and collapsed by the table.

Ji Zhi rushed to him, only to see his face pale as snow, blood flooding from his mouth like a broken dam, streaming from between his teeth and down his chin. Fang Minsheng struggled to breathe, yet still forced himself to speak:

“Your Majesty… I didn’t lie. The pills… were real. Giving my life to you… is real too…”

Ji Zhi’s heart lurched. For the first time, he panicked in front of a subject. He fumbled in his robes and pulled out the blue-and-white porcelain bottle—the very one Fang Minsheng had given him. Ji Zhi had never once parted with it. He poured out one of the pills, grabbed Fang Minsheng’s chin, and forced the medicine down his throat.

Before long, the bleeding stopped. Fang Minsheng’s breathing grew smoother, though his body slumped into unconsciousness. Ji Zhi looked down at the boy’s tightly shut eyes. In the candlelight, that young face still bore traces of youthful immaturity. He looked just like Ji Zhi in age. The emperor’s heart clenched.

Was it because he was the Son of Heaven?

Why would someone treat him so well, without reason—willing even to die for him?

______

With Xing Tian dead, Lianshan’s ferocity abated, and peace returned to Xian Moutain for a time.

Fang Minsheng spent the next few days recovering, his injuries steadily improving. Having consumed much of the “Immortal Elixirs,” his wounds healed faster than ordinary men. Ji Zhi soon found him back at his side. When reading late at night, Ji Zhi often glanced toward the window lattice and saw a faint, upright silhouette standing on the veranda—slender, still as a bamboo shadow.

One day, the weather was fine. Ji Zhi finally managed to drag Fang Minsheng out and brought him to the training grounds. He tossed a sword to him.

Fang Minsheng caught it and drew it from its sheath—black steel forged from Zhu Mountain iron, utterly silent in motion. A wild goose pattern was engraved upon the scabbard. “Your Majesty, what is the meaning of this?”

“This sword is called ‘Chengying.’ It’s a rare and excellent blade. I bestow it to you,” Ji Zhi said. “Take it and spar with me.”

Fang Minsheng held the sword and shook his head after a while. “Your Majesty shouldn’t stoop to sparring with me. If anything were to happen to the dragon body, it would be grave indeed.”

Ji Zhi laughed, tapping his shoulder with the hilt of Han Guang Sword. “What’s there to be afraid of? You’re always going on about protecting me. But if your skills aren’t truly sharp, how can you fulfill your duty? This isn’t a spar—it’s an assessment.”

“Assessment of what?”

“First—swordsmanship!” Ji Zhi grinned, and in a flash, he drew his sword and lunged.

The emperor had fought on many battlefields—his sword light cut like lightning and rainbow, cleaving through a thousand foes. But Fang Minsheng’s reaction was just as swift. A shadow flitted by, and he parried the strike perfectly. His swordplay was precise, quick, and clean—unadorned, yet flawless. For a while, the training ground was filled with clashing blades and dazzling glints of steel.

But before long, Ji Zhi found himself flat on his back, staring speechless at the sky. Beside him, Fang Minsheng calmly sheathed his blade. His swordsmanship had the force of a storm and the precision of a thunderbolt—Ji Zhi was no match at all. Before Fang Minsheng could help him up, Ji Zhi sprang to his feet, brushed the dust from his clothes, face tinged red, and cried out:

“Again!”

Fang Minsheng’s expression remained flat. “Your Majesty’s swordsmanship is already below mine—what’s the point?”

“Fine, so swordsmanship is your strong suit. One win doesn’t count for much. Let’s try mounted archery! That’s what matters most on the battlefield.” Ji Zhi said, though inwardly he schemed. Fang Minsheng had told him before that archery wasn’t his strength, something he had learned hastily. A monarch didn’t need to win fairly—he needed to win. Ji Zhi wanted to beat Fang Minsheng in archery, assert his imperial dominance, and shake off this stubborn shadow who’d die for him too easily.

But he had severely underestimated Fang Minsheng.

Fang Minsheng struck balls, passed through sword gates, ran courses and rode horses with perfect ease. He could shoot silks, shoot the ground globe, even lodge arrows into stone. While not perfect, each arrow struck with thunderous power. Ji Zhi trailed behind him, watching him ride like a flash of light, stunned. He thought: This bastard is a natural-born martial champion. If he ever did rebel, I’d be no match for him!

After half a day of losing, Ji Zhi finally thought of something he could win—pulling war bows and arm wrestling. Blessed with divine strength and fortified by Immortal Elixirs, his raw power surpassed even Yu Ji Guard. He coaxed Fang Minsheng into sitting across a table to arm wrestle. Fang Minsheng couldn’t defeat him, true—but like an immovable iron block, he also couldn’t be budged. They deadlocked.

It wasn’t really a win. So Ji Zhi tried another tactic: if he couldn’t outmatch Fang Minsheng in martial prowess, he’d beat him in trickery. He tested Fang Minsheng’s learning, but the boy, educated by Langgan Guard, was well-read and quick-witted. Ji Zhi brought out a game set to play liubo¹Chinese board game that was widely played during the Warring States period (475–221 BCE)  with him—and finally found weakness. Every time dice were cast, Ji Zhi had the upper hand. Fang Minsheng’s luck was miserable—he lost spectacularly.

At last, though out of breath, Ji Zhi still puffed up proudly and said:

“Well? You can’t beat me. Best not bother being my shadow anymore!”

Fang Minsheng nodded. “It seems the only thing I fall short in compared to Your Majesty is luck.”

Ji Zhi sighed. “Seems the only thing I beat you at… is luck.”

“Tianfu Guard is gone. Your Majesty’s side is left unguarded. If no one watches over you, and you fall prey to the wolves, what then?” Fang Minsheng knelt, hands clasped. “Your Majesty need not be superior in every way. That’s what we warriors are for. The dirty work—leave it to me, and the other Xian Moutain Guards. You needn’t dirty your own hands.”

Ji Zhi frowned deeply. He couldn’t get used to these self-effacing words. “Who told you to think that way? The Fang family?”

“Yes. The Fang family’s motto is: ‘Die with a loyal heart, serve the Emperor with full devotion.’ I was taught since youth that I was to be Your Majesty’s shadow. My entire life exists for this purpose.”

The sun was high overhead now, blazing like a bright, spiny burdock. Ji Zhi shook his head:

“I don’t want you to be a shadow.”

Fang Minsheng choked slightly. Ji Zhi stepped forward, stepping into the sun.

“A shadow gets trampled underfoot. When the sun’s out, he’s there; in deepest darkness, he’s gone. A coward. If you want to be ‘Tianfu Guard’ and protect me, I want you to stand beside me—no, in front of me. Lead the way.”

In the full light of day, nothing could be hidden. Their shadows curled at their feet. As Ji Zhi stood before him, meeting his gaze, Fang Minsheng felt as though he were staring straight into the sun—and couldn’t help but look away.

But then, his chin was suddenly tilted up.

The young emperor’s eyes were bright and piercing as daylight, making Fang Minsheng’s heart quake. Ji Zhi cupped his face, and said solemnly:

“If I am the sun, then you—must be my morning star.”

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  Chinese board game that was widely played during the Warring States period (475–221 BCE)