HCAW 139

Chapter 139: A Cage Drawn in Ink

After surviving two ambushes, the two were spent. Emperor Bai could barely walk, his head splitting with pain. They moved through the streets Daiyu’s streets, where sedan chairs jostled for space and gilded carriages rushed past—opulence everywhere. It was a scene entirely unlike the frost-stricken, flood-ravaged Penglai and Yingzhou.

Emperor Bai was drenched in cold sweat. The Tianfu Guard supported him tightly and whispered, “Your Majesty, let us find a place to rest.”

Emperor Bai shook his pale head. “No, I can still endure. Let’s keep going—let’s find out where we are.”

As they pressed forward, things felt increasingly strange. Every alley and shop bore resemblance to Penglai—yet it was somehow livelier, more animated. As they drew near the center, they saw a grand palace rising in the distance, its roof adorned with dragons and phoenixes like clouds, trimmed with tri-colored glazed tiles, dazzling in golden splendor. Oddly, even the shape of the palace felt familiar. And suddenly, they realized—this Daiyu was like a finely carved imitation of Penglai.

The guards at the gate, seeing them, bowed courteously and said:

“Please enter the hall. Gu Bi Guard has been waiting for you both for some time.”

Gu Bi Guard?

They exchanged glances, astonished. In Yingzhou, Yu Ji Guard had claimed Gu Bi Guard had been gravely wounded and died in the snowfields. Could this world be another version altogether? The invitation reeked of a trap. The Tianfu Guard gave a silent nod to Emperor Bai and quietly gripped Chengying Sword.

They stepped into the palace. Inside, the candles blazed bright, and the walls were painted in brilliant hues of gold and green. A large screen of purple sandalwood blocked the way, behind which stood a hazy silhouette. That silhouette spoke, and sure enough, it was Gu Bi Guard’s soft, gentle voice:

“It’s been a long time, Your Majesty. I did not expect you would look exactly the same… what a joy this is for me.”

The Tianfu Guard answered coldly, “Enough pleasantries. We’ll speak plainly. What is this place? What time is it now?”

Though Gu Bi Guard’s voice hadn’t changed, the city outside seemed entirely new. Their minds were filled with suspicion. Gu Bi Guard chuckled, “So cold, Tianfu Guard. You won’t even give me a moment to catch up with His Majesty. Judging from your tone, you must’ve come through the ‘Taoyuan Stone Gate,’ yes? You’re not of this world.”

The two exchanged glances. It seemed passage through the Taoyuan Stone Gate was no secret here. Emperor Bai spoke gravely, “Yes. We passed through the Taoyuan Stone Gate. Tell us everything you know, Gu Bi Guard.”

The shadow behind the screen shifted. The young man walked with hands behind his back, voice full of amusement. “As you command. This place is called ‘Daiyu.’ As for the time… I’ve long lost track.”

“What are the taoyuan stones, exactly? Why does everything change when we pass through it?”

Gu Bi Guard laughed. “You really don’t know? It’s an ancient legend—those who pass through the gate arrive in another world. I’ve lived peacefully here for years and have no desire to go elsewhere.”

Tianfu Guard asked, “Where is the Taoyuan Stone Gate in Daiyu?”

“Just beyond the city gate behind this hall. But I long ago gave up on using it—passing through changes nothing.”

“And Daiyu and Penglai—what is their connection?”

Gu Bi Guard fell silent a moment. “To put it simply, the relationship is like that of a former dynasty to a new one. I don’t know what era His Majesty hails from, only that after the night you fled the Penglai Immortal Palace over fifty years ago, your whereabouts were unknown. Chaos consumed the Xian Mountain, bandits surged. Then one day the sun burned bright, melting glaciers and submerging the Xian Mountain. Later, Yu Ji Guard built Qingyu Gao Palace where Penglai once stood. Thus a new dynasty began—called ‘Yingzhou.’”

Both men felt chilled to the bone. It was the same tale Yu Ji Guard had told them—likely the truth. Emperor Bai’s voice trembled:

“Then… ‘Daiyu’ is the name of the third dynasty?”

The youth’s voice laughed from behind the screen. “Your Majesty is sharp as ever—you understand with just a word.”

“Then… you’re the emperor of this third dynasty?”

“Oh, no, no. I wouldn’t dare. I merely serve as regent here—but it’s been many years.”

The Tianfu Guard clenched his teeth. “Then something doesn’t add up. We’ve passed through the Taoyuan Stone Gate at Zhenhai Pass and met Yu Ji Guard in Yingzhou. He told us he had severely wounded you and that you died in the snowfields—”

“He didn’t lie.”

Hearing that cheerful voice say such words stunned them both. The shadow behind the screen chuckled lowly: “A long time ago, I did indeed die here.”

“Then you…”

“You’re wondering how I’m still alive, aren’t you? Well, I’ve never said I’m still human.”

Suddenly, a chill fog spread through the hall. A wet, meaty tearing sound followed as the shadow behind the screen began to distort. Countless thick, black tentacles slithered out, writhing and twisting, instantly sealing off every window and door!

“The Yu Ji Guard indeed inflicted a grave wound on me many years ago, but that was not the cause of my death. I guarded the borders of Penglai for years, watching the soldiers at my side fall one after another—yet never once did I see Your Majesty return! I was buried here, but the Great Immortal Yonghe’s power fell upon this land and awakened me, and so I became what I am now—a being like a ‘Great Immortal.’”

Gu Bi Guard gave a cold, sinister smile.

“Your Majesty, you’ve finally returned home. Look at the world outside—it seems like Penglai, yet it is not Penglai. It is Daiyu, which far surpasses Penglai!”

The grotesque figure laughed wildly. “Your Majesty, stay awhile. See how Daiyu surpasses Penglai in every way!” Amid shrill laughter, soldiers surged into the palace. But the two were horrified to see their eyes dull and glazed, mouths drooling black fluid, their bodies reeking of corpses.

The Tianfu Guard drew Chengying Sword and shouted, “Your Majesty—run! This place is filled with the dead!”

The palace crumbled, revealing Gu Bi Guard’s true form—a monstrous, many-eyed, nine-tentacled beast. With a single sweep of his tentacles, he seized weapons of every kind and lunged at them.

The two leapt outside—but the city beyond was already packed tight with undead. Only now did they realize Daiyu was a kingdom of corpses. The vibrant life earlier had been nothing but an illusion. One wielded Hanguang Sword, the other Chengying, hacking through enemies like vegetables. Together, they even managed to sever one of Gu Bi Guard’s monstrous limbs.

“To the city gate!” Emperor Bai shouted, his heart pounding like stone.

Thanks to earlier experience, they no longer panicked. Along the way, they noticed that despite Daiyu’s apparent splendor, the roads were lined with ice and snow, and the air was bitterly cold. Emperor Bai thought: It seems Daiyu, like Yingzhou before it, has returned to its origin—either drowned in whirlpools or sealed behind ice walls. It will perish too.

Suddenly, the undead in the streets emitted beams of black light from their eyes. Tentacles writhed from their mouths, and Gu Bi Guard’s voice echoed from their bellies:

“Your Majesty, where will you go? It’s useless—no matter how many Taoyuan Stone Gates you cross, you’ll never reach the place you seek! Had you never raised your armies and waged war—had you stayed to suffer with your people—the Xian Mountain may still have perished, but at least the people wouldn’t have died abandoned and unheard. You—are the source of it all!”

His words pierced like nails, each sentence cutting Emperor Bai to the heart. And in his moment of hesitation, the undead suddenly surged forward and tore open their robes and bellies—fountains of black blood exploded like fireworks in the air.

The Tianfu Guard moved swiftly, pulling Emperor Bai out of the way, but he could not avoid being splashed by the black blood himself. Wherever the blood touched, it corroded skin and flesh, bringing searing pain. Before long, his body was torn and bleeding, but he still forced himself to speak: “Your Majesty, do not heed this scoundrel’s words… let us head to the Taoyuan stone gate now!”

Emperor Bai was trembling all over, but quickly took off his cloak to wrap it around the Tianfu Guard. The walking corpses shredded their own flesh, splattering black blood across the ground and blocking the path ahead. The two detoured, finally managing to escape the tide of people.

When they reached the gate, the enormous doors towered before them, a solemn wind whispering from within. Just before stepping in, Emperor Bai suddenly hesitated. The Tianfu Guard quickly asked, “What is it, Your Majesty?”

For the first time, Emperor Bai’s face showed unease and sorrow, like a lost child: “Once we pass through this gate… where will we go?”

“No one knows. Perhaps to someplace worse, or maybe to a Penglai free of wind and snow. But if we stop here, we choose our own end.”

The Tianfu Guard reached out, interlocking their fingers. Reflected in his eyes were the sky’s light, like stars, like fire—resolute.

“Let’s go, Your Majesty. I will wander the world with you.”

The two lifted their legs and stepped toward the Taoyuan stone gate, heading into another unknown realm.

From that moment on, they walked through worlds as numerous as the sands of a river, and came to understand that each time they passed through a Taoyuan stone gate, they were sent either into the past or the future. On one crossing, they saw Xian Mountain engulfed in smoke and flames, war raging everywhere. The Yu Ji Guard had turned against the other Xian Mountain Guards, slaughtering them one by one with ruthless intent. The bodies of the Xian Mountain Guards lay scattered, blood soaking the Immortal Palace.

On another crossing, they saw Gu Bi Guard resurrected from filth, weeping over the thorns and bones strewn across Xian Mountain. Using the power of the Immortal Elixir, he reanimated corpses and built a dreamlike city, where the people were oblivious to the fact that they had died long ago.

Time after time, they returned to Guixu—the last dynasty of Penglai. All legends and stories ended there. Xian Mountain would always collapse, the ice wall growing ever higher. Even in the fire-breathing era of Yingzhou, the ice wall still loomed beyond the Great Whirlpool. And by the time of Guixu, any thought of scaling it had become delusional.

Again and again, they watched familiar faces descend into the Yellow Springs. Again and again, they saw Xian Mountain walk toward its end. In every journey, Xian Mountain ultimately turned into a frozen abyss, devoid of life.

Until one day, as they reached the edge of the ice wall, Emperor Bai said to the Tianfu Guard:

“Minsheng, let’s rest a while.”

The Tianfu Guard paused. Emperor Bai, for once, smiled—wearily, but warmly. “We’ve been running endlessly, rarely stopping to rest. Sit with me, let me take a look at your wounds.”

They found shelter in a windless ice valley, pitched a tent, and secured it with cords. Inside, the Tianfu Guard unfastened his robes, his body shivering from the cold. Emperor Bai saw the dark veins spreading across his skin, with some areas showing signs of decay. His brow furrowed deeply. “I’ve seen you moving with difficulty—I didn’t think your injuries were this severe! What happened?”

The Tianfu Guard turned his head away and said softly, “It’s… the Immortal Elixir. Someone like me isn’t meant to live long.”

Emperor Bai fell silent. Above them, terns circled, crying mournfully in the sky. He asked, “Back in Daiyu, that time when Gu Bi Guard’s black blood splashed on you—was that also the cause?”

The Tianfu Guard trembled, but stubbornly shook his head, quickly redressing. “That wound healed long ago. Your Majesty—when shall we set out again?”

“Let’s not rush. Rest and recover first,” said Emperor Bai, stepping out of the tent alone.

The north wind swept long across the land, snow drifting endlessly. Emperor Bai walked the wastelands of Guixu alone, his expression dark and brooding.

He looked upon a ruined wall buried in frost—the remnant of Penglai Immortal Palace. Guixu was the future of Penglai; it was their end. Countless soldiers’ corpses still stood by the ice wall, hands outstretched, as if trying to reach the unreachable heavens.

Suddenly, pain stabbed through his skull—ever since the first journey to Yingzhou and the blow dealt by the Yu Ji Guard, he had often suffered these splitting headaches. Clutching his forehead, he passed an ice wall, its surface as clear as diamond, reflecting ghostly visions.

One side of the ice wall showed the towering figure of the Yu Ji Guard, sneering at him: “You little bastard. If I sat on the throne, it’d be far more stable!”

Emperor Bai hurried past. The next wall showed Gu Bi Guard’s handsome face, smiling with hidden malice: “Your Majesty, you are the cause of all disaster.”

He shook his head, the pain in his skull about to split it open. Reflections of the blood-drenched Bi Bao Guard, the fallen Bai Huan Guard, and the torn-apart Yu Jue Guard reached out from the ice, clutching at him and wailing: “Your Majesty, why didn’t you come save us?”

Suddenly, the ice wall reflected countless shadows of commoners—gaunt, ragged, broken-limbed, clinging to life. All whispered:

“Your Majesty, why did you abandon Penglai?”

Emperor Bai shouted: “I didn’t!”

He punched the ice wall with all his strength. Blood flowed from his knuckles where the shards cut him. But the visions didn’t fade. The whispering only grew.

At last, he saw the Tianfu Guard—or perhaps Fang Minsheng—in the reflection: a lean, lonely figure. His gaze was silent, his body slowly consumed by creeping black veins. The Immortal Elixir had begun to erode him, and he was dissolving into a black sludge.

“Your Majesty…”

The illusion of the Tianfu Guard lowered his head and said sorrowfully, “Someone like me isn’t meant to live long.”

Emperor Bai reeled in horror and stepped forward—but when his fingers touched the ice, the illusion vanished like foam. Snow and ice stretched endlessly around him. The world was white. It was as if he alone remained.

Outside the tent, a fire burned warmly. Sheltered from the wind, the two finally had space to roast meat and boil clarified butter for tea. They had been in Guixu for days, but neither had made any move to leave. The Tianfu Guard sipped rare hot tea, feeling warmth spread through him. Just then, he heard Emperor Bai call gently:

“Minsheng.”

The Tianfu Guard immediately set down his bowl. “I’m here, Your Majesty.”

Emperor Bai still wore his usual gentle smile, but there was bitterness behind it. “Let’s stay here.”

The Tianfu Guard was stunned.

After a long while, he managed to move his cold lips. “But… the Taoyuan stone gate… the ice wall… what about Penglai?”

Emperor Bai said, “That Taoyuan stone gate is far too strange. We’ve passed through past and future Penglai, yet never once truly escaped. If we keep going, it’s just more torment. Perhaps Penglai is fated to fall—it may simply be Heaven’s will.”

The Tianfu Guard saw the change in tone and noticed Emperor Bai holding his forehead, his expression deeply bleak. He quickly straightened up and said, “Your Majesty, don’t lose heart. Perhaps next time we’ll reach a Xian Mountain free of wind and snow—there may still be hope ahead!”

Emperor Bai gave a bitter smile. “If the ice wall can’t be broken, how could there be a Xian Mountain without wind or snow? Even with all of Penglai’s might, it could not be shattered. Now that the people of Penglai are all dead, it still stands.”

The Tianfu Guard bit his lip. “So Your Majesty is willing… to remain here forever?”

“It’s not about willingness or unwillingness. It’s just fate.”

“This place is bitterly cold. How can Your Majesty endure it?”

Emperor Bai looked toward the snowy void and the distant bones. “When I left Penglai, I brought five thousand two hundred and fifteen men. Five thousand one hundred and fifty-seven of my brothers lie buried in the Undersea and here. I’ll stay with them, speak some heartfelt words.”

“That’s self-deception!”

Suddenly, the Tianfu Guard grabbed his collar, eyes wide with fury. Emperor Bai was shocked—this was the first time he had seen the Tianfu Guard abandon all deference, shouting with all his might, heedless of consequence.

“Before you set out, what did you say? ‘We ride out soon, to lift the suffering of the people!’ Now that you stop here, what will become of Penglai’s people?”

Emperor Bai’s eyes widened in rage and he roared back:

“They’re dead! Penglai is empty! My dynasty, the people I sought to save, have long since perished!”

Their shouts echoed through the tent. They breathed hard and fast, like enraged beasts. Two hearts pounded in their chests, grief bursting forth like a breaking dam. Emperor Bai gritted his teeth.

“Everyone says I was a poor emperor. They blame me for abandoning Penglai. But with the ice wall there, Penglai is like a house on sand—bound to collapse! Human effort was not enough, and Heaven lent me no help. What was I supposed to do?”

Then, from this once proud and untouchable emperor, a single tear fell from the corner of his eye.

His voice softened. “I just… don’t want to see Xian Mountain fall again.”

The Tianfu Guard silently let go of him. His gaze shifted aside, falling on the crackling fire. A branch snapped in two, its twin limbs splitting apart, turning to ash.

“You want to stay here, then?”

Emperor Bai bowed his head. Firelight drew his swaying shadow across the tent wall. He murmured:

“Yes. I want to stay here with you. From now on, Xian Mountain will have no one left but us. We two are Penglai’s final survivors.”

He looked up toward the sky. Terns circled overhead, their white feathers falling with the snow, just like the perfumed petals once cast by the people when he passed through the streets.

“And if one day, someone passes through the Taoyuan stone gate and finds us, I will tell them our story. I’ll tell them of this frozen land that endured three dynasties—Penglai, Yingzhou, and Daiyu. I will tell them this place is a dead end, and no one can walk away alive.”

The Tianfu Guard’s gaze lingered on the ruined walls. Were these the remnants of the Penglai Immortal Palace—or the ruins of Daiyu? It was no longer clear. He asked, “You will guard this place… and go no further?”

Emperor Bai nodded. Frost painted his face, his lashes turned white. For a moment, he looked like an old man.

“This is not the Yingzhou usurped by the Yu Ji Guard, nor the Daiyu ruled by the Gu Bi Guard. This is my Guixu—Emperor Bai’s City.”

He said,

“And for the next hundred or thousand years, I shall be its guardian.”