HCAW 143

Chapter 143: No Turning Back

Recently, a strange man had appeared in Milu Village near Penglai.

He was draped in a tattered cloak embroidered with peach patterns, his face hidden beneath a large hood, making it impossible to see his features. He often muttered verses aloud and said to every passerby:

“Penglai is like a rootless tree—it will soon suffer endless snow calamities. People, why do you wait passively for death? Set out beyond the Ming Sea! There lies a promised land, untouched by wind or frost, called ‘Peach Source’!”

The village children threw stones at him and asked rudely, “What nonsense are you babbling? It’s warm and sunny! Who even are you?”

The man always smiled gently and replied, “I am the Great Immortal Yonghe, sect master of Da Yuan Dao.”

He handed out books to the villagers, and within them were maps illustrating scenes beyond Xian Mountain—shimmering waters and lush landscapes, like paintings, like poetry. But the villagers didn’t believe him. They picked up hoes and shovels and chased him off, treating him as a madman. Yet more than ten years passed, and the man’s voice never changed, nor did he seem to age. He continued to linger in the village. Eventually, people began to wonder:

Was this man a monster—or truly an immortal, as he claimed?

The weather gradually turned colder. Snow piled against their doors. The deep mountains froze over and refused to thaw. Everything the man had foretold began to come true, shaking the villagers’ faith. Frost ruined the crops. They tried pulling ropes through the fields and lighting smoke to warm the earth—but nothing worked. Their harvests died beneath the soil, and famine swiftly followed. In the bitter cold, a group of villagers went to crack ice by the river to fish—none returned alive. Bark was stripped from trees, roots were dug from the ground, but hunger was a bottomless pit that could never be filled. Eventually, driven mad by starvation, the villagers even turned to cannibalism. Some dismembered the bodies of the dead and sold them as “earth chicken” just to exchange for a few grains of rice.

It was then that the man returned. Standing in the center of the village, he still spoke in that same gentle tone:

“Come with this immortal—I will give you meat porridge to eat.”

The villagers, gaunt as starving dogs, followed him weakly. Not long after, they saw that a great pot had already been set up in the grain-drying yard, and a rich aroma of meat wafted through the air. They rushed forward like madmen, only to see his cloak flutter and cast shadows—an invisible force held them back. The man laughed, “No need to rush—there is enough for all.”

Each villager received a large bowl of meat porridge. It was extraordinarily delicious—rich, smooth, and savory. The air was filled with the sound of slurping and scraping bowls clean with eager tongues. But soon, a question surfaced in everyone’s mind: in such a time of hunger and scarcity, how could someone have enough meat to give them all?

The cloaked man seemed to read their thoughts and smiled. “You need not fear or question where this meat comes from. I am the Grand Immortal Yonghe, born of the Ming Sea. At my word, birds and fish gather, and meat is brought to your hands. But this power consumes great strength—the porridge cannot be provided every day.”

The villagers looked at each other. One by one, they put down their bowls and fell to the ground in worship, chanting blessings: “May the immortal protect us!” A few greedy souls crept forward, hoping to snatch more food from the man’s hands—but several near-invisible black shadows darted from beneath his cloak, striking them down instantly. The watching crowd grew even more terrified, convinced they had witnessed a display of divine power. They kowtowed all the more fervently.

The man declared, “If you wish for this immortal’s power never to run dry, then convert to Da Yuan Dao! Beyond the Ming Sea lies Peach Source, a place without wind or snow, where all are fed and clothed. But you must dedicate your strength, generation after generation, to search for it. Those who believe shall never suffer again.”

The villagers bowed and worshipped him like waves crashing upon a shore, their voices rising in chorus: “Long live the immortal!”

From that day forward, the people of Milu Village began to worship the so-called “Great Immortal Yonghe.”

He often preached to them, saying that at one end of the Ming Sea lay Peach Source, and that they must tirelessly seek it. Large numbers of young people left their homes to become disciples and missionaries, spreading the teachings of the sect across Xian Mountain. In years of famine, the immortal would distribute meat porridge, and only those within a hundred li of Milu Village would eat their fill. That porridge had miraculous effects—healing wounds and warding off disaster.

By then, everyone worshipped him completely. No one questioned where he came from anymore—except a few close children, who sometimes glimpsed blood soaking through his robe, revealing stark white bones underneath.

In places unseen by others, the immortal would cut flesh from his own body with a knife and offer it to the villagers as food. The Immortal Elixir had eroded his body—and now his own flesh carried its properties. In quiet moments, he would stare out toward the horizon, lost in thought. One child once asked him, “Great Immortal, what are you looking at?”

He would smile and say, “This immortal is watching the sea. Have you heard? On a distant shore, there is a Taoyuan stone gate. One day, someone from beyond the heavens will pass through it and bring blessings to this world.”

The children gasped. “Oh wow—will that person really come here?”

The Grand Immortal smiled without replying. After a long while, he sighed faintly: “Whether he’ll come or not… even this immortal cannot say.”

With the setting sun at his back, his silhouette was drawn in the shape of a solitary shadow. As he gazed out across the Ming Sea, he felt a chill like never before. He was waiting for someone who could never reach this place—like trying to find a grain of sand that had once rested in his palm, now lost in the river of time.

Though worshipped by all as the “Great Immortal Yonghe,” he harbored a dream as illusory as mist. In that dream, Penglai was free of wind and snow, spring returned to the earth, and he broke free from his cocoon, regaining his human form. In that dream, there was no sect master of Da Yuan Dao, no Emperor Bai, no Tianfu Guard—only Ji Zhi and Fang Minsheng, two young boys wandering side by side, rising together to the pinnacle of the world.

But suddenly, the dream ended, like a butterfly alighting on a flower—then quietly vanishing. The immortal looked down at his pitch-black tentacles, his heart neither sorrowful nor joyful, only filled with sighs. He thought, this is the life I longed for but could never attain.

_____

Along the shore of the Ming Sea, the black-winged tern flew.

After discovering the secret that the tern could lead the way, the Tianfu Guard had tried dozens, hundreds of times—and confirmed it to be true. If the tern guided him, he could return to worlds he had once visited. But he had uncovered this secret too late. To return and find the first or second Emperor Bai was now a fantasy. At this point, he was like a rootless duckweed, drifting without a home.

After that, he wandered through the Taoyuan stone gates hundreds, thousands of times. Each time, he searched for Emperor Bai, laid out the truth, and hoped to join forces to save Xian Mountain. Yet Xian Mountain fell again and again, and they invariably reached a dead end. He also realized that every time he crossed a gate, there was never a Tianfu Guard beside that world’s Emperor Bai. It was as if the world did not allow two Tianfu Guards to coexist. The version of himself from that world had always already died in the Ming Sea.

After so many fruitless journeys, the Tianfu Guard’s spirit wore down. At times, he felt Xian Mountain was an endless maze with no exit, and all his desperate running was in vain. The Immortal Elixir corroded him more with each day. He couldn’t sleep at night, and even during the day he saw nightmares—countless dead souls and fallen comrades stared at him with lifeless eyes and said:

“Tianfu Guard, why haven’t you saved Xian Mountain from fire and flood?”

Other illusions shouted, “You abandoned Xian Mountain again and again, never suffering with us. What a coward!”

The Tianfu Guard clutched his head, drenched in cold sweat, as if condemned by all. In that moment, he finally understood the heart of the Emperor who had withdrawn into Guixi—living like this every day was no different from hell. He had wandered long enough. If a plank were to float by in this bitter sea, he would seize it without hesitation. He longed for the end of this journey.

At last, one time after passing through the Taoyuan stone gate, he encountered a very different Emperor Bai.

He first saw that Emperor Bai aboard a floating chi boat in Guixi. Corpses lay strewn across the ice beside the boat. Emperor Bai sat at the bow, hair disheveled, eyes dim and lifeless.

Upon seeing the Tianfu Guard, this Emperor Bai did not react with the panic he had come to expect. Instead, he let out a faint laugh and said:

“Minsheng, you’re here? Didn’t you already die protecting me in the Ming Sea? Now that I see you, does that mean—I’m already in the Underworld?”

The Tianfu Guard looked up at him, brows tightly furrowed. “Your Majesty, I am not from this world. I am the Tianfu Guard who came through the Taoyuan stone gate.” He briefly explained everything—it had become a routine after each crossing. Yet this Emperor Bai listened quietly and without surprise. When he finished, Emperor Bai gave a bleak smile:

“If all that’s true, then you’ve come at the worst possible time. Just look around. Of the 5,215 elite Tiger Guards who followed me on campaign—not one survives.”

Everyone but the Emperor himself was dead? The Tianfu Guard was speechless. He had never encountered such a scene.

The sky was a cold gray, and the wind howled like ghosts. Boarding the floating chi boat, the Tianfu Guard found it full of corpses, sprawled across the floor. Because of the extreme cold of Guixi, the bodies had not decayed—but many were severed and arranged on hardwood tables within the cabin. Some showed signs of being bitten and torn. The Tianfu Guard asked:

“What happened? Was there a beast attack?”

Emperor Bai smiled faintly. “No birds or beasts. A group of men grew restless and wanted to return to Penglai. But with the ice wall unbroken, I forbade it. So they mutinied. Everyone here died in the infighting.”

“So Your Majesty has been here alone for half a month?”

“Yes. I rowed alone, planning to slowly return to Penglai.”

“Do you still have food?” the Tianfu Guard asked, searching the boat. The water casks still held some water, but the flatbread and pickled greens were gone. Emperor Bai shook his head. “My rations ran out several days ago.”

“Then how did you…”

The Tianfu Guard trailed off, staring at Emperor Bai. He didn’t look weak or starved. They were far from Penglai, and all supplies were gone—how had Emperor Bai survived alone in this lifeless Guixi?

Emperor Bai smiled calmly. “There’s plenty of meat.”

“Were you catching birds or fish? But we’ve used up all our arrows, and the fish here are thin, deep underwater, and hard to catch.”

“No.” Emperor Bai’s gaze fell on the corpses in the cabin. They were covered in dense bite marks. In that instant, a chill struck through the Tianfu Guard’s bones. Emperor Bai still wore his smile—but his face was pale as death, no longer like a living man, but like a ghost.

“There’s plenty of human meat.”