HCAW 3

Chapter 3 – From the Depths of Prison

Cang Mountain bore the snow, with a full moon rising and falling among its peaks. The wind and snow raged as two swift horses cut through the crushed white grass, tearing open the night.

A young man in black robes rode against the wind, shouting from afar, “‘King Yama,’ stop right there!”

The black steed was immensely strong, and the distance between the two gradually closed. Fang Jingyu could vaguely make out the man’s figure, backlit by silver moonlight, ethereal like a god.

Fang Jingyu’s heart trembled. That was Penglai’s most wanted criminal—King Yama.

The beggar glanced behind him and, realizing Fang Jingyu was closing in, knew he would soon be caught. He lifted the felt cloth draped over his shoulders and wrapped it around his head and face. Then he tugged the reins, turned his horse, raised his red bow, and aimed at Fang Jingyu.

Seeing King Yama draw his bow toward him, Fang Jingyu’s heart skipped a beat. There was a saying among the Xian Mountain officials: When Yama’s arrow sings, there is no escape. He had seen this man’s archery firsthand—so precise it hit its mark even in the midst of a fierce duel with Chen Xiao’er. Cold sweat soaked his heavy robes.

Suddenly, King Yama plucked the bowstring, a thunderclap-like twang exploding in Fang Jingyu’s ears.

Fang Jingyu swiftly drew his sword and raised it to block.

But the expected pain never came. He opened his eyes to see King Yama already turned away, galloping off. It had been a feint—no arrow was loosed at all.

“This cunning bastard!” the young man in black grit his teeth and spurred his horse forward.

The beggar galloped on, the wind howling past his ears like countless wailing spirits calling his name.

He had a name. King Yama was a demon known throughout the world, but few knew his real name—Chu Kuang.(Madman Chu)

That name wasn’t given by his parents, but casually bestowed by his master, who had dragged him out of a pile of corpses.

Back then, the sky was gray and pale, tattered banners fluttering like ghostly hands summoning souls. He and his master sat on a mound of corpses, gazing at the endless ruins of broken swords and graves. His master stroked his head and sighed, “Truly, the world has lost its way, and a sage has been born. ‘Once there was a madman from Chu who sang of the phoenix and mocked Confucius.’ From now on, you shall be called ‘Chu Kuang.’”

He lowered his head in silence.

“What, you don’t like it?”

“I don’t know how to read.” He looked up at his master, eyes dark and lifeless like stagnant water. “Call me whatever you want. ‘Chu Niba’ is fine. ‘Fen Dan’ works too.” ¹Stinky Mud and Shit Pellet

His master laughed. “How can it not matter? You are a man of destiny. One day, your name will resound through the world!”

He lowered his head again, staring at the maggots wriggling in the corpse heap. His master was wrong. He wasn’t some man of destiny. He was as lowly and loathed as a corpse worm. Even as he came of age, he knew nothing of his origins, because he was nothing more than a madman.

He only remembered being a prison slave of the Jade Rooster Guard of Xian Mountain—a wretched dog, humiliated and tormented. After escaping, he became a soldier. Once, an arrow pierced his forehead. After that, the sky no longer looked like sky, the earth no longer felt like earth, and he no longer felt like a person.

Perhaps that arrow had severed something in his brain, for from that point on, he was no longer like other men. He could endure multiple wounds without pain, pull a three-foot bow and snap his tendons. Torn flesh, broken bones—these became routine. Though his master taught him martial arts afterward, he never regained a human heart. From then on, he lived in a haze, like a beast.

His archery was unmatched. Not a single arrow missed. Enemies trembled at his name, and a title quietly spread—“King Yama,” slayer of countless men.

Wherever the name spread, it stirred fear. Most of the time, Chu Kuang couldn’t even remember whether he’d done the horrific deeds the rumors described. His life had only two purposes: to take revenge on the Jade Rooster Guard, and to fulfill his master’s dying wish—to take one person across Penglai’s Heavenly Pass and into the world beyond Xian Mountain. But the late Emperor Baidi had ordered the pass sealed. Anyone who crossed it would be imprisoned, and so the Xian Mountain Guard pursued him relentlessly.

Now, once again, he had fallen into dire straits.

After hiding for months in Tongjing Village to recover from his wounds, he disguised himself as a beggar and followed Fang Jingyu and Chen Xiao’er. During their fight, he secretly loosed an arrow, ending the life of that bloodthirsty killer. He didn’t know why he interfered—perhaps it was a surge of kindness, or perhaps that once-in-a-century prodigy piqued his interest. A madman often doesn’t know why he does things. But the arrow had indeed drawn the young man in black’s attention, and now Fang Jingyu pursued him relentlessly on horseback.

By now, it was deep into the night. Fang Jingyu raced after King Yama. Fortunately, he was familiar with the black steed and, after chasing two miles, still managed to stay close behind.

But the fugitive was cunning, steering his horse toward Yangshan Village near Tongjing. The village paths were narrow—only wide enough for one horse. There were many water jars in front of the houses. King Yama shot them to pieces. Shards scattered across the road, and his horse refused to move forward.

Fang Jingyu reacted immediately, turned his horse, and circled around the village to take another path. He pursued all the way to the riverside. The moonlight was faint. The river was half-frozen. A white-blue horse stood still—King Yama hesitating at the water’s edge. The ice was melting. Crossing now was dangerous. That white-blue horse was one he had recently stolen from the Xian Mountain Guards. It hadn’t bonded with him yet. How could he have the confidence to risk the leap?

“Since there’s nowhere left to run, why not return to Penglai with me?” The young man in black stepped out from the shadows of the trees and spoke coldly. King Yama.

King Yama suddenly looked up. The moonlight fell like silver frost. For the first time, Fang Jingyu saw his figure clearly. Though his face was covered, his build was lithe and youthful, radiating sharp, angular force.

“Who says there’s nowhere to run?” King Yama spoke, voice low and steady. “If there’s no path, I’ll carve one out!”

He slapped the white-blue horse, and it obediently neighed, galloping along the riverbank. At a shallow point, it raised its hooves and leapt onto the ice. Back at the Jishun Inn’s stable, he had fed this horse fine grain mixed with salt, cleaned its hooves, and brushed its coat—without realizing it, they had grown close. He whistled softly, guiding the horse across the thick ice. Fang Jingyu watched, furious—this horse had truly bonded with the bastard!

Fang Jingyu suddenly pulled a flute from his robe and blew hard. The piercing wail sounded like a ghost’s cry. Both horses startled. The white-blue horse lost its footing.

Fang Jingyu seized the moment, leapt like a wolf.

The floating ice lay across the river, veined with scar-like cracks. Fang Jingyu stepped on the ice and charged forward. The white-blue horse hadn’t gone far. He summoned strength in his legs, leapt high, and grabbed the felt cloth covering King Yama’s head, dragging him off the horse.

King Yama was shocked. He used one hand to shield his face and swung the red bow with the other, but the young man in black seized his wrist with iron grip. They rolled across the ice, shards scattering like stars across the river.

“Got you!” Fang Jingyu shouted.

But King Yama refused to surrender. He suddenly raised his leg and kicked toward the young man’s groin. Fang Jingyu jolted, hurriedly catching his knee. King Yama twisted the bow’s end and stabbed toward his eyes. Fang Jingyu narrowly dodged. They exchanged several quick blows. This man was shameless—only striking at the lowest and weakest spots.

The river trembled. Snow flew. The ice creaked beneath their feet. Fang Jingyu broke into a cold sweat and said icily:

“I thought I was chasing a King of Hell. Turns out you’re just a sly little sewer rat.”

King Yama rolled across the ice, creating distance, and stood up in silence.

“Your moves are utterly base—pure gutter brawling. If you’re someone of reputation, then fight with dignity. Show some real skill!”

King Yama looked at him, then suddenly chuckled darkly. “But sir, I am gutter trash. Dignity was never an option.”

“Hm. I see that now. Which is why everything I just said was a ruse—to buy time.” The young man in black dropped his righteous fury and returned to his cold, indifferent demeanor. “And I’ve learned a move from you: to fight gutter trash, you need gutter tricks.”

Suddenly, the ice let out a dreadful creak, cracking loudly. It sounded like thunder from beneath. King Yama looked down in alarm and saw web-like fractures spreading across the river surface, all converging on the spot where Fang Jingyu’s blade had stabbed the ice.

While stalling with words, the bastard had sliced the ice to pieces.

Now it was Chu Kuang’s turn to gnash his teeth. He burst out laughing, eyes gleaming madly. “You bastard… you really are a natural-born genius!”

The ice shattered.

He plunged into the water.

But then a hand suddenly reached out and grabbed his collar. Fang Jingyu dragged him out, voice cold and clear:

“Thanks for the compliment.”

Then the young man in black gave King Yama a solid punch to the face.

King Yama was no easy target—he bit back and returned the favor with a punch to Fang Jingyu’s face. But in the end, Chu Kuang was a master of the bow, not of brawling. After a few exchanges, he was forced into a retreat.

The two of them rolled onto the ice, grappling. Fang Jingyu forced him down, growling, “Tell me, are you really the King Yama?”

King Yama sneered coldly. “You’ve been chasing me this hard, and you still don’t know who I am?”

Fang Jingyu pulled from his waist the feathered arrow engraved with the red arrow flower. The arrowhead scraped across King Yama’s cheek before stabbing deep into the ice. “Is this your arrow?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you there at that time?”

“Passing by.”

“Do you know Chen Xiao’er?”

“No.”

“Then why did you save me? If you truly are the infamous ‘King Yama,’ why save me from the hands of that killer who called himself ‘Mountain Ghoul’?”

“I wasn’t saving you. I just thought…” King Yama’s voice turned hoarse, “it looked fun.”

Fang Jingyu was speechless. Chu Kuang continued:

“I was just passing by and shot an arrow out of boredom. Who knew the guy would lift his forehead right into it and die on the spot.”

He grinned maliciously. “Captain, that’s my statement. Are you done asking?”

The words lit a spark in Fang Jingyu’s chest. This man hadn’t saved him out of compassion—it was just a game! Fang Jingyu clenched his fist and growled, “Stop talking nonsense!” He struck with force. King Yama dodged, but the blow still grazed his chest and stomach, making him groan in pain.

He suddenly felt something wet in his hand. The young man in black loosened his fist and saw his palm covered in bright red blood.

“You’re injured?” Fang Jingyu looked up at “King Yama,” catching sight of blood-soaked silk beneath his robes. He recalled what the one-eyed man had said—King Yama had vanished a year ago after a battle in the Jiwei Desert. Though he took out one of their eyes with an arrow, he had also suffered many injuries. Clearly, he had been seriously hurt.

King Yama clenched his jaw. That wound came from a fight with the second-ranked Jade Rooster Guard. It hadn’t healed. Drawing his bow earlier had torn it open again, and now this scuffle had made it worse. Luckily, the blood stained his blue robe, hiding the fact that he was the same beggar Fang Jingyu had seen earlier at Jishun Inn.

Still, Fang Jingyu could see how weakened he was. He drew his sword and charged. King Yama blocked with the back of his bow.

They clashed again. King Yama suddenly thrust his fingers into his own wound. Fang Jingyu was stunned to see him scoop out a handful of blood.

“So what if I’m injured?” King Yama grinned savagely. “Even if I had just one finger left, I could still crush you!”

As if immune to pain, he flung the blood from his wound straight at Fang Jingyu’s eyes. The young man in black flinched to the side, and in that instant, King Yama bit down hard, his sharp canine teeth sinking into Fang Jingyu’s wrist.

Fang Jingyu cried out. Even through the leather bracer, the bite nearly crushed his bones. Blood gushed from the deep wound.

A mad dog, truly!

After a brief scuffle, the young man in black twisted and, ignoring the pain, pressed his blade to the man’s neck.

“Surrender, King Yama.” Fang Jingyu’s lashes lowered, sweat beading on his pale face like frost.

Chu Kuang panted, slowly releasing his wrist, blood still at the corner of his mouth. “Captain, I saved your life. Didn’t you consider letting me go?”

“You did save me, and I owe you for that. But your crimes are many, and the world owes justice. By law and reason, you must be imprisoned.” Fang Jingyu spoke coldly.

King Yama began to laugh. Fang Jingyu’s heart skipped. Through the gaps in the felt, he saw an unyielding eye, like a starving tiger in a cage, claws and fangs still sharp.

“You think you can put me in a cage? Not yet, Captain.”

King Yama snarled.

Fang Jingyu’s heart suddenly jolted. At that moment, King Yama reached out and gripped the blade, blood streaming down like serpents. He forced the sword away from his throat. The young man in black gasped and stabbed, but King Yama caught the blade with his bare hand. Like a wild tiger, he roared through the blood and suddenly slammed his head into Fang Jingyu’s forehead.

But this time, he miscalculated. Fang Jingyu wore a headband, seemingly of cloth but lined with steel. Upon impact, King Yama felt like he had rammed into a rock. His head buzzed like a nest of bees.

What a hard head! Chu Kuang reeled from the pain and stumbled back, but Fang Jingyu seized his collar and this time smashed his own head forward.

With a loud crack, both of them saw stars and reeled from dizziness.

When their hands loosened, blood dripped from King Yama’s head. His body went limp like cotton, and he lost consciousness.

Fang Jingyu panted, hands and feet trembling. Had he truly caught the legendary fiend? He pulled the sword from King Yama’s hand, then took a leather whip from the black steed’s saddle hook and bound his hands tight.

He lifted the man, his hands coming away soaked in blood—bright red, vivid as blooming red arrow flowers. Fang Jingyu frowned. The man was gravely injured, yet had fought him for so long without a sound. Truly, a hard-boned man.

The white-blue horse had made it out of the river and was now shaking off water by the bank. Fang Jingyu wiped it down, picked up the red bow, and laid King Yama across the saddle. After some hesitation, his hand reached for the felt wrapping the man’s head.

Who exactly was King Yama? Judging by his voice, he seemed just past twenty, about the same age as himself.

But just as Fang Jingyu was about to remove the felt, King Yama suddenly opened his eyes.

Fang Jingyu saw a pitch-black eye, devoid of light, as if holding the deepest darkness in the world.

King Yama sprang up like a loosed bowstring. With a flick of his toe, he hooked the upper limb of the red bow and snatched it from Fang Jingyu’s hand, then kicked the horse’s belly. The white-blue steed neighed and bolted.

“Stop, you slippery bastard!” Fang Jingyu’s face changed as he shouted.

Snow fell like cotton from the trees. King Yama sat upright on the horse, winking at Fang Jingyu. With a twist of his foot, the red bow spun into his hand. He skillfully caught it, elbowed an arrow from the quiver, and though his hands were bound, he held the bow with one hand and pulled the string with his teeth.

“Why should I stop? So you can throw me in jail?” he mumbled, teeth clenched. Pulling so hard, the string cut the inside of his mouth. Blood and the taste of iron filled his throat. In the next instant, the arrow shot like a meteor toward Fang Jingyu’s chest.

A bone-deep shock spread from his chest through his body. Fang Jingyu looked down—the arrow had pierced his chest. Under his robes, a heart-guard had been hidden, but the iron plate shattered under the strike. He quickly unfastened his collar. The arrowhead had only just pierced the edge of the shattered guard—his chest barely scraped.

Fang Jingyu collapsed, dazed and breathless.

“Farewell, Captain! No need to see me off!”

Chu Kuang laughed, his eyes gleaming. He spurred the horse forward like an arrow into the night—and vanished.

———

The wind howled bleakly. The moon cast deep, somber shadows.

Fang Jingyu sat alone by the frozen river, still as a stone. The black steed nuzzled him affectionately, ears flicking softly.

The battle just now felt like a nightmare, lingering in his chest. He replayed everything that had happened today. The “Mountain Ghoul” who murdered for money here was actually a servant from Jishun Inn, while the man they were supposed to capture—King Yama—had fired a secret arrow that saved him from danger. He had just fought King Yama beside the river. Fang Jingyu opened his hand—his palm still held a warm, wet stain of blood, blazing like a flower.

Fang Jingyu was the second son of the Fang family, once a household of high standing. But he had severed ties with them, moved out of their mansion, and established his own life. He became an officer of Xian Mountain. Though people mockingly called him “Captain,” the pay was meager, his clothes only enough to ward off the cold, and his food barely enough to fill him. King Yama was the first big fish he had been sent to catch. The Jade Seal Guard had dispatched scouts to all corners of Penglai, but only their team had uncovered even a trace.

In the end, King Yama still escaped. And to this day, Fang Jingyu had no idea who he truly was.

From afar came the sound of galloping hooves. Fang Jingyu rose from the rocks by the stream, holding a spent signal stick—he had just lit a flare to signal his comrades.

Two mottled horses emerged from the dense forest, ridden by the one-eyed man and the girl in red. Their faces lit up with warmth when they saw him. The girl shouted,

“Hey, Tight-lipped Gourd, you lose any arms or legs?”

“Unharmed,” Fang Jingyu replied tersely.

The red-clothed girl, Xiao Jiao, leapt down and squeezed his arms and legs all over before breathing a sigh of relief. The one-eyed man asked, “We’ve already had the nearby Xian Mountain officers handle things in Tongjing Village, but we found the ‘Mountain Ghoul’s’ body outside the village. He died from an arrow wound. Jingyu, could it be that you encountered King Yama?”

As expected of a former captain of the Penglai cavalry—his sense for King Yama’s trail was sharp. Fang Jingyu nodded.

“I did. We fought, but he still got away.”

At these words, both of their expressions dimmed. The one-eyed man dismounted and patted Fang Jingyu’s shoulder. “It’s fine. No big deal. In ten years, Penglai hasn’t caught this man. For you to return in one piece after facing him head-on—that’s already remarkable. Truly worthy of your Fang family name. So, did you see his face clearly?”

Fang Jingyu said calmly, “If I’m some great talent, then he’s a heaven-gifted prodigy. He seemed about my age, yet his archery was godlike. Even gravely wounded, he could still match me for so long. He doesn’t look like a man—more like a ghost.”

The red-clothed girl snorted. “He’s not just a ghost, he’s the king of them all. Why else would they call him King Yama?” Then she clapped her hands. “Ah, you said he’s injured?”

The black-robed youth nodded. Xiao Jiao snapped, “You fool. He’s seriously hurt and can barely move, and you’re perfectly fine—why didn’t you press the advantage and chase him?”

“No map. Want me to chase him just to become target practice?” Fang Jingyu said. The one-eyed man understood and handed him a silk map from his chest.

Fang Jingyu unrolled the map, but a vague unease stirred in his chest. The truth was, he had hesitated. That man may have been a ruthless killer, but he had once saved his life from Chen Xiao’er. Still, he needed to separate personal feelings from duty. Steeling himself, he studied the map.

The three of them gathered close. The man pointed at the silk and said, “The terrain nearby is full of peaks and valleys. He could only go one of two ways. One is the main road that connects to the Penglai highway—flat and easy. The other is a mountain path, dense with trees, but very rough.”

Xiao Jiao put her hands on her hips. “What’s there to think about? Only an idiot would take the main road. And not far from there is Baicao Pass—it’s full of Xian Mountain guards. If he takes the mountain path, he might actually be safe!”

Fang Jingyu shook his head and mounted his horse. Xiao Jiao hurriedly asked, “Where are you going? Which road?”

“The main road. King Yama is badly hurt—he’ll risk everything to force his way through.”

Fang Jingyu raised his whip with a cold flick.

“Because he’s not an idiot—he’s a madman.”

———

Smoke thinned, grass withered, and cold pines stood tall.

King Yama Chu Kuang lay sprawled on the white-blue horse’s back, clutching his wound and gasping for breath.

He shakily opened his collar to see that the bandaged silk around his chest was soaked red. A terrible gash stretched from his left shoulder to his right side like a giant centipede. During the battle in the Jiwei Desert, the Jade Rooster Guard had nearly disemboweled him with that strike.

The Jade Rooster Guard ranked second among the Xian Mountain officials—a terrifying old man with hands like iron, immune to blades and spears. He wore a set of golden armor from Tianshan that made wounds linger forever. Now Chu Kuang’s body ached, and the old arrow wound on his forehead burned like fire. Nightmares blackened his vision like ink. He felt as if countless hands were dragging him down into darkness.

Old memories imprisoned him. He could almost feel a whip striking his back, and a cruel voice spitting, “Wretched slave!” He crawled, lowly and desperate, pain and fear flowing through him like molten lava.

Chu Kuang shook his head hard and forced the vision away. He wrapped his head tightly in felt. His top priority was to reach Baicao Pass and find a place to lie low, change names, and disappear. He didn’t regret firing that arrow that exposed his location—because with that former Penglai cavalry captain around, it was only a matter of time before he was discovered. He was used to drifting like a rootless duckweed.

After a long ride, dawn began to break. It looked as though fire had ignited behind the clouds, casting a golden line across the sky. But just as he stepped onto the main road, a furious shout rang out:

“—Just in time, King Yama!”

He turned to look and saw two swift horses galloping toward him. The one who shouted was the imposing one-eyed man, already with his bow drawn, ready to fire. After shouting, the man turned to Fang Jingyu and asked, “It’s him, right? I didn’t get the wrong guy?”

Fang Jingyu nodded. “It’s him.”

Though the figure ahead had his face covered with felt, the white-blue horse he rode was the same as before. The one-eyed man turned back and bellowed again: “King Yama! A year ago in the Jiwei Desert, you took one of my eyes. I’ve come to repay that arrow!”

As he spoke, he drew the string and fired. The arrow whistled straight for Chu Kuang’s right eye.

It was swift as wind, and packed with terrifying force. But Chu Kuang was faster—in the instant he turned, he had already raised the red bow, drawn an arrow, and fired. The whine of his arrow was so sharp it seemed to drown out even the snow’s whisper. The two arrows collided in mid-air, their tips meeting with a crack, then both dropped like crippled quails.

Not only the one-eyed man, but even Fang Jingyu was stunned. King Yama had shot the arrowhead in flight!

Sweat streamed down the man’s face. That familiar terror surged up once more. He drew two more arrows, pulled taut, and fired them simultaneously—both aimed at King Yama’s eyes.

But again, Chu Kuang loosed two arrows of his own and shot them down mid-air.

His aim was inhuman, as if the arrowheads had magnets, flying precisely to where he willed. The two pursuers were struck speechless. One shot could be luck—but three? That was divine.

Chu Kuang let out a jagged, twisted laugh like a demon: “You brat! That one arrow of yours came with interest—it turned into three! And you still missed such a big living target?”

They were only a few li from Baicao Pass. The one-eyed man lost his composure slightly and said to Fang Jingyu, “With marksmanship like this, he’s no fake—he’s the real deal. At this rate, we won’t catch up. If he shoots our horses, we won’t be able to pursue.”

Fang Jingyu focused. After a moment, he said, “Qin Jiao has already taken a shortcut to alert the guards at Baicao Pass. There are plenty of Xian Mountain officials there. We’ll attack from both ends—catch him like fish in a pot.” (Qin Jiao was Xiao Jiao’s full name.)

The black-robed youth drew his long blade. The mirror-like surface reflected his frosted brows and cold eyes. “Besides, King Yama hasn’t shot our horses—he must be saving his arrows to force the pass. Once he runs out, he’s no threat. After all, an archer without arrows is like a louse without teeth.”

Fang Jingyu read his opponent so well, it was like knowing someone inside and out—even more than one would know a spouse.

Fang Jingyu spurred his horse forward and rode up beside King Yama.

The white-blue horse had run all night and was exhausted, far inferior to the black steed’s power. Riding side by side, Fang Jingyu shouted, “Stop! We haven’t settled round two yet!”

Chu Kuang glanced at him and rolled his eyes. “You again?”

Fang Jingyu said coldly, “Unfortunately, this area is under my jurisdiction. I’ll have to welcome you myself.”

“Stinking gourd, go home and drink your mother’s milk! King Yama fears no army—what can your little sword and blade do?”

“I’ve got one sword and one blade,” Fang Jingyu said, “but your arrows are almost gone.”

Chu Kuang was startled. He looked into his quiver—and indeed, only a few arrows remained.

Fang Jingyu didn’t waste time. He charged with both sword and blade, their cold gleam falling like a shower of blossoms. Chu Kuang could only block with the red bow, but after deflecting two strikes, the bow arm nearly cracked. He was forced to retreat, firing an arrow at Fang Jingyu’s shoulder.

Just then, another arrow flew from the side, breaking his in midair. Chu Kuang turned sharply to see the one-eyed man had caught up, panting, bow drawn.

Chu Kuang gritted his teeth. Surrounded on both sides and already wounded—this was bad. He wasn’t skilled in close combat and couldn’t drag this out.

Suddenly, a plan came to him. He tore off the felt cloak draped over him and swerved like an eel, dodging Fang Jingyu’s sword tip. As the one-eyed man drew his bow, Chu Kuang deliberately slipped into a tricky angle, making the arrow clash against Fang Jingyu’s blade—slowing it just enough for Chu Kuang to catch it with the felt cloth.

He plucked the arrow from the fabric with delight and returned it to his quiver. Fang Jingyu was speechless—this bastard had actually pulled a “Borrow Arrows with Straw Boats” trick.

The three horses ran side by side, gradually closing in. Chu Kuang aimed to shoot the horses, but when he saw the black steed’s gleaming coat, he hesitated—and lowered his bow.

“Captain, I’m not just good at shooting,” he said, changing tactics. “I’m also pretty good at running.”

Snow scattered under the pounding hooves. Chu Kuang gripped the horse with his knees, preparing to flee. Fang Jingyu shouted coldly, “Think you still have a hole to crawl through? Look ahead!”

Chu Kuang jolted and looked up.

There stood Baicao Pass, towering in the distance. Bright clouds curled above the massive gates. Drawbridges dropped with a clatter. Crossbows were mounted in the battlements, and cavalry swarmed the walls like ants. Several horse-drawn wagons rushed out, led by the red-clothed girl he had once seen back at Jishun Inn, now high-spirited and commanding.

“Surrounded from both ends—where will you run now?” Fang Jingyu asked coolly. “Better surrender now. The prison food’s not bad, I hear.”

As he spoke, he suddenly struck—his blade gleamed like moonlight, slicing toward Chu Kuang’s neck and shoulder.

Chu Kuang dodged, but was still grazed. The new wound layered over the old injury left by the Jade Rooster Guard. A flash of indescribable pain struck through his heart like lightning. Before he could cry out, Fang Jingyu followed with a sword thrust. Chu Kuang’s forehead injury throbbed—his focus slipped. The sword pierced his shoulder, and blood sprayed.

Chu Kuang groaned, but with one hand pulled the reins tight. He sprang like a rabbit into the dense forest beside the road.

Fang Jingyu glanced sideways, signaling to the Xian Mountain officials led by Xiao Jiao. She shouted:

“Chase him! That fat fish is worth a thousand taels! Catch him and you’ll eat and drink for life!”

The cavalry burst forth into the woods. Chu Kuang gritted his teeth and urged his horse forward. Soon, the path ahead ended—blocked by a deep ravine. A frozen waterfall still flowed; the roar of water thundered.

Chu Kuang dismounted, pulled a grappling hook from his pack, and embedded it into the ice. He tied a hemp rope around his waist, stepped onto an ice spike, and leapt down.

When Xiao Jiao and the others arrived, they found only a grappling hook swinging by the cliff’s edge. One officer stepped forward to cut the rope, but Xiao Jiao stopped him. The red-clothed girl waved her hand.

“Pull it up!”

Everyone looked at her in surprise. She stomped her foot. “Hurry! A live fish is worth more than a dead one!”

The officers pulled with all their strength. The rope still felt heavy—he hadn’t escaped yet. But when they finally hauled it up, the other end held only a large chunk of ice. King Yama was long gone.

The officers turned to Xiao Jiao. Someone muttered, “If you hadn’t messed up, we’d be feasting on 50,000 bushels of grain in a seven-entrance mansion by now!”

Xiao Jiao blushed, a little flustered, but puffed herself up and snapped, “What are you looking at? Fish slipping the hook is normal! Go dream about it in your sleep!”

Fang Jingyu approached and glanced over the frozen falls. His expression remained calm.

“Split into three teams: one to guard this area, one to search the falls—he may be hiding in a cave—and one to scout the nearby Erzhu Village. No matter which path he takes, he’ll have to cross the pass eventually. We must tighten checks in the coming days.”

“What if he never crosses the pass and goes elsewhere?”

Fang Jingyu said, “Impossible. I’ve only exchanged a few blows with him, but from what I see, that man is reckless by nature—he thrives on danger. He’ll find a way through.”

He closed his eyes in thought. When he opened them, his gaze swept across the frozen waterfall like a sharp winter wind.

“King Yama will throw himself into the net.”

———

Snowflakes danced outside Erzhu Village.

At the village entrance stood a large mule cart filled with hay. Beneath the cartboard was a hidden compartment, stuffed with filthy prisoners.

Most of them wore thin hemp robes, huddled together, shivering and nervous. Their hands and feet were chained. Their black eyes darted around like frightened deer.

They were people who had broken Xian Mountain’s laws. In Penglai, anyone who tried to cross the Zhenhai Pass and escape into the world beyond Xian Mountain would be captured and branded as slaves. From then on, they were no longer human, but vermin. Penglai people called them “walking meat.”

Driving the cart was a Penglai “Zhiren”—a human merchant who specialized in buying and selling slaves. Unlike regular officials who managed goods, he escorted slaves himself. At the moment, he had stepped off the cart to buy wine. A few fierce-looking Xian Mountain officers stood guard.

Suddenly, there was a thump above. A shaft of light broke through as someone pushed aside the hay and fell into the slave compartment, causing a chorus of startled screams.

“What’s going on?” The fat merchant rushed over with his wine jug, whip in hand, bellowing. The officers lifted the hatch and looked inside—there, among the slaves, lay a bloody figure. The air reeked of blood.

“He… he just fell down out of nowhere…” one of the slaves stammered.

Before he could finish, the merchant lashed his whip and roared, his thin mustache quivering, “Who said you could talk? Shut your filthy mouth!”

Two officers dragged the bloodied man from the cart. One said, “Security at Baicao Pass is tight lately. Could he be a fugitive who slipped into the cart?”

“No, maybe he’s just another slave who broke free of his shackles and fought someone. That’s why he’s such a mess,” the merchant chuckled. He stepped closer and brushed the man’s hair aside. There was a dog-shaped brand on the back of his neck—the mark of a slave, burned long ago.

“The Jade Rooster Guard’s brand…” the merchant muttered.

He bent with difficulty, lifted the man’s bangs, and saw his face. Pale cheeks, sharp and striking features like strokes of calligraphy. Pulling up his eyelid, he saw a rare double pupil—gleaming red, like blood-colored jade.

The youth was unconscious. Blood curled beneath him like a snake.

“A fine specimen… He’ll fetch a good price,” the merchant murmured, his gaze creeping over the youth’s face like an insect.

One officer stammered, “Y-you’re not seriously taking him, are you? What if he’s a fugitive and the guards at Baicao Pass find out?”

“What’s there to fear? We’ve got Emperor Changyi’s gold seal. They wouldn’t dare inspect the cargo!” The merchant stood and stroked his beard, grinning. “The Jade Rooster Guard will soon arrive in Penglai. He has… extravagant tastes—he loves clean faces and strong bodies. Zui Chun Garden’s been fretting over how to entertain him. Since this one bears his slave mark, let’s return him to his rightful owner. I’m sure he’ll be pleased. Besides, once he’s in the hands of the undefeated Jade Rooster Guard, he won’t be escaping again.”

The snow fell softly like butterflies, landing gently on the unconscious youth’s face, softening his features.

The merchant took the perfumed silk cloth offered by his attendant, wiped his hands, turned away, and gave his order.

“Sell him to Zui Chun Garden. They’re short on serving courtesans.”

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