HCAW 144
by LiliumChapter 144: Shutting the World Out
The northern wind howled, its sound like a host of ghosts wailing in chaos. The Tianfu Guard and Emperor Bai began their journey once more.
As with so many times before, the Tianfu Guard brought Emperor Bai through the Taoyuan stone gate and explained all that had come to pass in detail. Again and again, they witnessed the descent of black frost, the rivers merging, bleached bones lying across the land, and the destruction of Xian Mountain in chaos. Fearing that Emperor Bai would lose heart, the Tianfu Guard often comforted him, saying, “Your Majesty must not despair. Penglai surely has a way forward—and we will surely find it.”
Among the thousand-li of frozen land, Emperor Bai gazed down at a frozen stream. Beneath the thin ice, bloated corpses floated, their twisted, swollen faces staring at him through the ice. He gave no reply, only let out a soft, bitter laugh.
“A way forward… does it really exist?”
Snow fell from the vast sky. Their shadows, like lonely wild geese, drifted across the endless white plain, walking toward the stone gate. Time after time, beyond the gate, they saw fires rising from the Immortal Palace, arrows raining down, commoners rioting and killing. With no leader, Penglai had become a boiling cauldron—blood scattered like red blossoms across the white snow.
Seeing this, the Tianfu Guard quickly moved to shield Emperor Bai behind him, apologizing: “The people of Penglai do not understand Your Majesty’s suffering. They were incited by traitors into committing treasonous acts. Your Majesty, please don’t lose heart—I know your devotion to the people. You are nothing like the slander they speak.”
But Emperor Bai only gave a bleak smile. “The one worrying too much is you. When I was in Guixi before, I saw all that needed seeing. I no longer collapse into grief so easily.”
The Tianfu Guard recalled the horrors aboard the boat and his eyelids twitched. He asked, “Would Your Majesty tell me what happened to you back then?” Emperor Bai lifted his gaze and glanced at him. His expression remained indifferent, but he did not refuse.
So Emperor Bai recounted everything. Only then did the Tianfu Guard learn that after arriving in Guixi, Emperor Bai spent many days carving into the ice wall. Over time, his followers split into two factions—one insisted on staying in Guixi to continue digging, while the other wanted to return to Penglai. The conflict grew more violent by the day. Some, driven mad with desperation, even drew blades and tried to kill the Emperor. Besieged by several men, he was forced to fight back with his sword and killed many.
When he finished recounting all this, Emperor Bai gave a bitter smile and said, “I’ve killed many. They were my trusted guards, my attendants—some had once fought loyally by my side.”
The Tianfu Guard did not know what to say. He only spoke softly: “Your Majesty, please accept my condolences.”
He gently embraced the Emperor. After a moment’s hesitation, Emperor Bai raised his hand and returned the embrace—but his expression remained cold and distant.
The Tianfu Guard gradually realized that this was one of the strangest Emperors Bai he had encountered. He was neither anxious nor hopeful about anything. He was like embers gone cold—no longer giving off light or heat. He and this Emperor had passed through many Taoyuan stone gate together, witnessing Xian Mountain sink again and again into the frozen sea.
Until one day, Emperor Bai said:
“Minsheng, let’s stop walking.”
“Why? Your Majesty—is it despair?” The Tianfu Guard halted, his heart pounding. Was he about to repeat the same pattern again? Watch another Emperor Bai withdraw into Guixi, hopeless and defeated?
Emperor Bai’s expression grew resolute. “I believe the Emperors Bai who traveled with you before were completely mistaken.” The Tianfu Guard asked quickly, “How so?”
“To keep wandering endlessly like this—it’s like sitting and waiting to die. How can that save Xian Mountain from ruin? As I see it, we are trapped in an illusion. We must not search for a way out—we must break the walls that confine us and bring daylight back to this world.” Emperor Bai spoke calmly. “If there is no windless, snowless Penglai—then we shall make one ourselves.”
They had, by then, crossed into a new realm. This was Penglai in the era of civil war. The generals Bingzhu and Lianshan fought for control of Xian Mountain. Fires reached to the heavens, the common people perished. Standing atop a cliff, they looked down at the battlefield below—shouts of killing shook the earth, tiger-armored warhorses charged into the fray, bodies fell by the hundreds and thousands in an instant.
Emperor Bai gripped the Tianfu Guard’s wrist. Taking advantage of the confusion, they knocked out two Penglai soldiers and took their armor. Under cover of night, they silently infiltrated a command tent.
Inside the tent, a tall man in black hammered armor sat beneath the lamp, studying a map. He stood over eight feet tall, with sword-like brows and phoenix eyes. His gaze was piercingly clear, and his beard thick and black—imposing and noble.
Emperor Bai crept toward him. Sensing something, the man lifted his head and barked:
“Who’s there?!”
Guards outside the tent tensed at once, drawing their blades. But Emperor Bai walked directly up to the man and knelt. “This junior pays respects to Your Majesty.”
The Tianfu Guard had knelt with him earlier, but now he realized—this was Emperor Bai’s royal grandfather, the ancestor named Shaodian. They had arrived in an era where the ancestor was still alive! Emperor Bai had been born into chaos—his ancestors had died in war. When he had met the young Ji Zhi, Ji Zhi had already pacified Xian Mountain and become Emperor.
The man looked at them in astonishment. He turned and shouted to the guards outside: “Hold!” The guards sheathed their weapons and returned to silent vigilance.
Turning back, the man studied their faces. His gaze fell on Ji Zhi and, with hesitation, he asked, “Who are you? I have no son who looks like you. But if you are assassins sent by Lianshan or Bingzhu, you show no killing intent.”
Emperor Bai’s face was expressionless. He bowed again and said, “I am named Ji Zhi. I truly am of Your Majesty’s bloodline. If I must be precise, you are my imperial grandfather. Has Your Majesty heard of Taoyuan stone? It is a strange stone that allows one to travel across different times. I passed through a gate forged from this stone to arrive here.”
He briefly recounted the miraculous power of the Taoyuan stone gate, and the later entrapment of Penglai behind the ice wall. The man listened, his brows tightly knit, astonishment never fading. At the end, Emperor Bai’s expression remained calm as he bowed once more:
“Everything I have said is true. I beg Your Majesty to see clearly.”
The man scrutinized him with a sharp gaze, then suddenly barked, “All talk and no proof! Your words are absurd. Why should I believe you?”
Emperor Bai lifted his face. “Has Your Majesty not noticed how closely my face resembles your own?”
The man studied his features carefully. Indeed, the youth before him bore an uncanny likeness to himself—as if they were cut from the same flesh. Yet he still frowned. “So the brows and eyes resemble mine. That’s no proof. If you were truly an enemy spy, you might have had your bones shaved and face altered. It wouldn’t be impossible.”
Emperor Bai removed his sword and handed it to the man, saying, “If Your Majesty does not believe me, I ask you to examine this sword closely. It bears the engraved marks of antlers and a camel’s head (dragon)—symbols of the Son of Heaven. It is my own imperial emblem. After the wars in Xian Mountain were pacified, I inherited the ancestral legacy and temporarily took up the responsibility of governing Xian Mountain.”
The man glanced at it. The sword was sheathed in fine sharkskin, the cross-guard inlaid with iron and gold—clearly crafted by the royal smiths. Yet his expression did not change. He said, “It is a fine sword, no doubt. But how does that serve as proof? If you were a traitor under Lianshan or Bingzhu, they could have gone to great lengths to forge a sword and give it to you to deceive me. That would not be impossible.”
Emperor Bai fell silent, seemingly at a loss for words. The man barked again, “What other evidence do you have? Bring it out—all of it! If you have none, then I’ll have no choice but to detain you both and treat you as enemy spies under Lianshan and Bingzhu—torture you until I get the truth!”
The Tianfu Guard hastily kowtowed and cried, “Exalted Emperor, His Majesty speaks only truth. We came through the Taoyuan stone gate in haste and brought no proof with us. I am willing to die to prove every word he speaks is true!”
His voice was hoarse and trembling. He clenched his teeth, clearly prepared to offer his life in defense. Emperor Bai knelt silently beside him, glancing at him without speaking. The man said nothing for a long while, then murmured:
“Taoyuan Stone… what kind of thing is that?”
Emperor Bai replied, “It is a strange stone dredged from the Ming Sea. When forged into a gate, it allows passage into different eras of Xian Mountain. The era Your Majesty lives in likely has not yet unearthed such stone.”
The man paced within the tent, hands behind his back, his gaze like frost. The Tianfu Guard, watching him, felt a chill creep down his spine. The man stood still at the gap in the tent, his shadow as dark and still as a monolith. Slowly, he said:
“As expected—I still cannot trust you.”
The Tianfu Guard trembled. This man was even more intimidating than Emperor Bai himself. The man’s voice was icy as he continued, “Do not blame me for my suspicions. Lianshan is far more cunning than most can imagine. Many of my soldiers have already fallen to his tricks. I would rather execute three thousand innocents than let a single spy slip through.”
He opened his mouth, clearly about to call for the soldiers outside to come in and execute them both. At that moment, the Tianfu Guard dropped into a deep bow, scraping his forehead so hard it split the skin and bled. Through clenched teeth, he said, “Exalted Emperor, please do not miss this chance to save Xian Mountain!”
But just then, he saw drops of blood spatter the floor in front of him.
The Tianfu Guard slowly looked up—and saw blood gushing from the man’s chest. The man stared in shock at the sword buried in his torso. Blood soaked the iron-gold blade like a bright red pomegranate. The sword’s hilt was in Emperor Bai’s hand, his face cold and stern, like a god holding the power of life and death.
Emperor Bai pulled the sword free. The man collapsed with a thud, eyes still filled with disbelief. The Tianfu Guard stood frozen, then finally stammered:
“Y-Your Majesty?!”
The Hanguang Sword flicked, spraying a half-arc of blood across the tent. Emperor Bai closed his eyes. In the instant before, he had drawn his sword like lightning and stabbed the man straight through. He said, “There was no need to keep arguing. I know what kind of man my imperial grandfather was. My father mentioned him before—sharp of mind and keen of insight, but suspicious to the bone. Ordinary reasoning could never sway him. Had we delayed a moment longer, we truly would’ve ended up imprisoned and tortured.”
“But he… he was your own blood, and you killed him!” the Tianfu Guard said, voice low and thick with sweat. “I believed that if we reasoned calmly, he might have changed his mind…”
“Minsheng, your problem is that you’re too softhearted. That’s why we’ve failed time and time again.” Emperor Bai coldly cut him off, sheathing his sword. He stepped forward, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. “A person who becomes emperor is not like ordinary men. Ordinary people only need to care about their families and friends. But to an emperor, the realm is a board, and all people are pieces. None are too precious to sacrifice.”
“Then what is it Your Majesty seeks to accomplish by killing your own ancestor?”
Emperor Bai let out a soft laugh. “You heard it yourself—this era’s Taoyuan stone has yet to be excavated. That means until the gate is created, we cannot travel anywhere else! We must plan for a long stay. And he… was the greatest obstacle in our way.”
The Tianfu Guard trembled with fear.
Emperor Bai turned to him again, his expression suddenly warm like spring sunshine. “What I said just now may have sounded harsh—but it’s different with you. Minsheng, you are my right hand, my loyal retainer.”
The Tianfu Guard lowered his head. His heart was clear as crystal. He knew that no matter what Emperor Bai said, he was still being treated like a chess piece—discarded when no longer useful. His lips quivered, and after a long silence, he asked:
“What does Your Majesty intend to do in this era?”
Because the murder had been swift, and their conversation afterward hushed, the soldiers outside the tent hadn’t noticed. Emperor Bai walked to the map table, lifted the bloodstained chart, and after a quick glance, declared:
“Xianke Mountain and East Xianyuan have not yet been reclaimed—this must be the jiazi year, seventy-six years before our original timeline. Now that I’ve killed my grandfather, I will assume his duties and pacify Xian Mountain.”
The Tianfu Guard stood in stunned silence, unable to speak. Emperor Bai was full of energy and began outlining his grand plan: “The methods for quelling war are all recorded in the histories—I memorized them as a child. Reenacting them now is no hard task. Once the conflict settles, we’ll dredge the Taoyuan stone and forge the gate. But the gate will be for us alone—not for the common people to use at will.”
The Tianfu Guard opened his mouth, but hesitated. He looked at Emperor Bai, doubts crowding his heart. How could a man who had just killed his own kin smile so easily? Emperor Bai noticed his unease and asked:
“Minsheng, what troubles you?”
“I only fear Your Majesty will bear a name of infamy—for raising your hand against blood kin.”
Emperor Bai only smiled gently. “Then let’s destroy the histories, and start again from the beginning. We’ll rebuild the Xian Mountain Guard, reconstruct the gate, and abandon the foolish idea of breaking the ice wall at sea. Instead, we’ll remain in Penglai, united as one, and resist the snow disaster together. I will never again abandon my people, and Penglai will never again see rebellion.”
His gaze seemed to pierce through the tent walls, reaching toward a distant future.
“From now on, I will begin a great enterprise. It will demand many sacrifices. I may be remembered as a tyrant. And for the sake of Penglai’s longevity, I will likely have to change my name midway. Minsheng, have you ever read those books that claim to come from the Nine Provinces?”
The Tianfu Guard shook his head heavily, feeling as if a weight had been fastened to his neck. Emperor Bai continued, “Perhaps it’s coincidence, but my name and my ancestors’ names match those of figures in Nine Provinces mythology. I once read in a book: ‘The Emperor Shaohao’s name was Zhi, styled Qingyang, of the Ji lineage.’ Another said: ‘Leizu bore two sons, the second of whom was named Changyi and descended to dwell by the Ruoshui.’ I am far from possessing the sacred virtue of Emperor Shaohao—not worthy of comparison—but since our names match by fate, I will borrow the name of his younger brother for now, seclude myself in Xian Mountain, and prepare for the coming snow disaster.”
As he spoke, Emperor Bai swept open his cloak and walked toward the entrance of the tent. Outside, yellow sand stretched far and wide—a wild, untamed land.
It was here they would start again, awaiting the snowstorm that would come seventy-six years later.
“When the war is over, I will change my name to—Changyi.”
AN: *From the Records of Emperors and Kings and Records of the Grand Historian.
Such a plot twist 🤯