HCAW 30

Chapter 30: Paranoia and Delusions

After living together for some time, Fang Jingyu discovered that Chu Kuang was, without a doubt, a madman.

Not only that—at times, he would become completely blank, like a puppet with its strings cut. Then Fang Jingyu finally understood why this guy had been such a hard sell in the slave market. When lucid, Chu Kuang was slippery and sly; but when his mind slipped, he was like a frenzied beast, completely detached from reality. Sometimes, he would sit motionless under the eaves, staring into the distance all day. He constantly forgot things, unable to recall what he’d done an hour before. Other times, he would suddenly drop whatever he was doing, fall to the ground like a rabid dog, and claw at the wind—howling and growling as if fighting invisible ghosts.

Fang Jingyu was worn down to the point of exhaustion and thought bitterly, What a mess I’ve brought into my home!

Chu Kuang couldn’t even read. No matter how patiently Fang Jingyu taught him, no matter how hard he tried to explain, the man could only manage to write “one” through “four”—because all he could do was draw horizontal lines. All the stroke orders and techniques Fang Jingyu carefully demonstrated went in one ear and out the other. Perhaps his brain had been damaged—characters seemed to dance and twist before Chu Kuang’s eyes, alive and impossible to decipher like they were mocking him.

Fang Jingyu, unaware of this, simply sighed. “If you don’t put in any effort, and you can’t even write your own name, what will you do in the future?”

Even someone as dim as Xiao Jiao could manage by copying character books every day. Fang Jingyu didn’t believe Chu Kuang couldn’t do the same. But when he lowered his gaze, he saw Chu Kuang happily crouched on the ground, drawing in the dirt with a stick, completely unbothered. Furious at his lack of ambition, Fang Jingyu snapped coldly:

“Did you hear a word I said?”

Chu Kuang looked up with a dust-covered, grinning face. “I heard you. But Master, not being able to write a name isn’t a big deal, right? I can draw instead!”

He moved aside so Fang Jingyu could see what he had drawn—a little dog and a little fish. Fang Jingyu pointed at them and asked, “What’s this?”

Chu Kuang pointed at the fish, then at Fang Jingyu. Then he pointed at the dog and then at himself. Grinning wide, he said:

“That’s you and me.”

Rest days flew by in a flash. According to regulations, Fang Jingyu and Xiao Jiao were supposed to return to the Penglai Prefecture for duty.

But on the day they were scheduled to report, Xiao Jiao threw a fit—crying, rolling around in the courtyard wrapped in a cattail quilt, shouting:

“I don’t want to report in! I’m not going!”

Fang Jingyu grabbed the end of the quilt and yanked it open, his voice cold. “If you don’t show up at the Penglai Prefecture, you’ll be dismissed—how will you get paid? And without wages, how will you eat?”

“I’d rather stay home and copy character books! I’ll copy ten a day!” Xiao Jiao wailed, tearfully. “Why must a perfectly good person go to work?!”

Chu Kuang squatted nearby, watching the spectacle while sketching in the dirt. Today he was drawing a big turtle on top of a little turtle. When Fang Jingyu approached with a dark face and asked what he was drawing, Chu Kuang replied, “A life study.” So Fang Jingyu went inside, brought out a thirty-pound iron chain, and locked it on him. When Chu Kuang shouted in rage, demanding to know why, Fang Jingyu coldly answered:

“Tying up the dog.”

Chu Kuang refused to accept it and lunged at him. The courtyard erupted into chaos—feathers flying, dogs barking, a total uproar.

Eventually, things calmed down. Xiao Jiao, dressed in a wrinkled red robe, sat in the courtyard weeping, listening to Fang Jingyu lecture her. He paced with a cold expression and said:

“We should’ve reported in days ago! Last time, the Yu Yin Guard let us rest longer because we helped track and fight ‘King Yama’ and were injured. I also spent half a month training at the martial grounds. But we can’t delay anymore. You understand that—so come with me. We can still make roll call if we go now.”

Xiao Jiao pulled herself up, miserable, and picked up her beaded chain, trudging behind him.

But before they could leave, a commotion erupted outside the courtyard. Someone screamed like a butchered pig:

“Fang Jingyu, get out here!”

Then came a barrage of pounding fists. The wooden gates shook violently, as if about to burst. Fang Jingyu frowned, pulled the bolt, and flung the door open.

Outside, a sea of people filled the street. In the center of the crowd was a small cart, and slumped in it was a man in a dark smoke-colored silk robe with bead-like eyes and a bulbous nose—it was none other than Young Master Tao, the same scoundrel who had bullied Zheng Deli.

Upon seeing Fang Jingyu, Tao trembled as if set ablaze and bellowed:

“You dog bastard! You crippled my legs! That arrow—don’t think I don’t know it was you! Now I’m half-paralyzed, what are you going to do to make it up to me?!”

Fang Jingyu was utterly baffled. Only Chu Kuang, peeking from the side, understood. It turned out Young Master Tao—who preyed on the locals—had been struck by Chu Kuang’s arrow that day in the lower back, causing him to wet and soil himself on the spot. His legs had gone limp, and every physician the Tao family hired said there was no cure. He would be a cripple for life.

Tao had flown into a rage. Remembering the direction the arrow had come from, he had concluded it must’ve come from the Fang residence. Assuming Zheng Deli was in league with Fang Jingyu, he had stormed over in fury.

Now he and his lackeys blocked the courtyard gate. Tao shouted, “Say something, you donkey! You’re the one who crippled me, aren’t you?!”

Fang Jingyu was still lost. But seeing this small-eyed, snub-nosed man in expensive clothes, he guessed this must be the scoundrel Zheng Deli had mentioned. He furrowed his brow and said, “Do I even know you?”

“Don’t play dumb! That coward Zheng couldn’t have shot me—it had to be you, the great Captain Fang, with your fancy sword skills!” Tao raged. “You crippled me—I’m going to take your head! I want your head!”

His attendants all joined in, shouting threats. The street filled with noise. Neighbors shut their doors in fear. Xiao Jiao stood frozen, confused.

Only Chu Kuang understood what Tao was yelling about. He leapt forward, chains clanking, and punched Tao square in the face.

Tao immediately shut up and yelped, “Ow! Ow! That hurts!” If not for his servants catching him, he would’ve fallen over with the cart.

Once he was steady, he glared at Chu Kuang, cursing under his breath:

“Fang Jingyu, don’t tell me you still claim you’re innocent! Look at your rabid dog of a servant, biting everything in sight! I’m from the grand Tao family—my grandfather is a Mohe Guard! You’re dead meat!”

At the mention of the Mohe Guard, Fang Jingyu’s expression turned cold.

He reached out, grabbed Chu Kuang by the wrist, and pulled him behind. Then he said icily to Tao:

“Though I know you’ve harassed my friend repeatedly, he begged me not to press charges. That’s why I’ve let you be. I’ve never even met you before today. But now that you’ve come to my door—fine. I can arrest you for rape and deliver you to the Penglai Prefecture. Understand?”

His gaze was icy cold, his pupils filled with the color of a frost-laden sky, carrying a natural air of authority. Young Master Tao and his attendants suddenly felt as if their throats were being squeezed—falling silent in an instant. Their earlier arrogance vanished without a trace. They looked like a group of rats caught in a trap, all showing fear and hesitation.

Taking advantage of their retreat, Fang Jingyu slammed the wooden doors shut and bolted them tight. He turned to Xiao Jiao and said, “No need to waste words with them. The Yu Yin Guard is still waiting for us at the Penglai Prefecture. There are too many people at the gate—we’ll take another path and climb over the rear wall.”

Xiao Jiao was panicking. “B-but… what if they wreck our courtyard while we’re gone?”

“What valuables do we even have? Our bags are empty. If he dares touch our home, that just gives me a reason to throw him in prison for a few days. Besides, you remember what my master’s like—she hates people who show up late. Do you really want to test her again?”

The red-clad girl shivered, her voice shaking. “She… she’ll put us in heavy stocks and kick us off Qingning Mountain…”

Fang Jingyu nodded. “Exactly. Let’s go.”

Just then, he suddenly remembered Hanguang hidden in the ironwood cabinet. It was key evidence of his identity as the orphan of Emperor Bai—if it were stolen, rumors could fly and bring disaster. He rushed to the back courtyard, grabbed some dry rushes from the stable, wrapped the sword securely, then worried about the small bamboo bow—his brother’s keepsake. He wrapped that, too, and tucked it into his satchel.

Once everything was prepared, he stepped out of the room and told Chu Kuang, “We’re going to check in. If Young Master Tao breaks in, just run if you can’t beat them.”

But then he remembered—this was someone who had once tried to assassinate the Yu Ji Guard and held mysterious, unpredictable martial skills. So he corrected himself:

“…If you can beat them, bite hard. Got it?”

Chu Kuang, dragging his heavy chain, was sprawled on the ground drawing again. He looked up with a wicked grin and barked:

“Woof!”

_____

Fang Jingyu and Xiao Jiao climbed over the earthen wall and slipped through a side path toward the Penglai Prefecture.

They entered the bustling city. The streets were packed. Vendors shouted from stalls, selling five-spice braised chicken, crispy leaf cakes, and glossy candied fruits hanging like strings of red lanterns—enough to make mouths water. Xiao Jiao’s knees nearly gave out at the sight. Fang Jingyu had to drag her forward by the arm.

But the good luck didn’t last. Just as they reached the street near the Penglai Prefecture, a dark wave of people suddenly blocked the way—it was Tao Manor’s brown-clad thugs. Moments later, two servants pushed up a small cart, and Young Master Tao sat high upon it, looking smug.

“Trying to run? I knew this was a bluff! Using the Penglai Prefecture to threaten me? Ha! My grandfather is a Xian Mountain Guard who controls clouds and rain—I fear no petty officials! Fang Jingyu, you won’t be sending me in—I’ve caught you, and I’ll beat you to death with my own hands!”

Clearly, he hadn’t barged into the Fang courtyard earlier but had instead stationed lookouts to watch them. Now he’d followed their trail here.

Tao gave a sharp wave. “Hit them! This lowly Xian Mountain lackey dared injure me—he deserves to die!”

With that command, his thugs surged like a tidal wave. Stalls overturned, wares scattered, and screams erupted from the crowd.

Several brawny goons raised iron rods and struck toward Fang Jingyu’s head. He reacted instantly, drawing his blade and parrying with force. Xiao Jiao swung her beaded chain, knocking down a handful of men. But they were outnumbered—two fists couldn’t hold off so many. Soon, the crowd swallowed them up.

Tao himself, half-hidden among the mob, staggered upright with the help of his lackeys. He drew a short dagger and lunged at Fang Jingyu, eyes bloodshot, crazed with vengeance.

The madness in his face startled Fang Jingyu. There was no time to parry. In a desperate move, he grabbed the rush-wrapped Hanguang from his waist and struck Tao’s chest hard with the scabbard.

The blow was brutal. Tao’s chest heaved as if a wave had crashed into it—he collapsed to the ground, retching bile. By the time his men picked him up again, the street was a wreck, and Fang Jingyu and Xiao Jiao were gone.

His attendants nervously reported, “Y-Young Master, those two escaped while you… weren’t feeling well. Shall we pursue them?”

“Useless!” Tao roared—then howled from the pain in his chest. After catching his breath, he snarled, “Chase what? Once they’re inside the Penglai Prefecture, they’re under the Yu Yin Guard’s protection! My grandfather’s not here—sending you fools after them would be suicide. Idiots!”

With Fang Jingyu nowhere to be found, the group slunk back to Tao Manor. Tao considered going after that coward Zheng Deli instead—but his chest hurt so badly he just wanted to lie down.

Back at the manor, servants bustled about applying herbal pastes and brewing medicine. Tao lay slumped on his little cart, groaning like a rooster about to be bled.

Just then, someone slowly emerged from the main hall.

Tao looked up and saw a man as thin as gnarled tree roots, dressed in a straight-collared robe of shimmering silk, with a Mohe jade pendant at his waist. His eye sockets were sunken, his gaze cold and unreadable.

It was his grandfather—the Mohe Guard.

Tao immediately began to wail louder. “Grandfather! Thugs outside humiliated your grandson!”

The old man stepped closer but only glanced over him briefly. With many descendants in the Tao family, he hardly cared for this bullying, good-for-nothing grandson.

“Hmph. Brat—you provoked someone, didn’t you? You brought this on yourself. Serves you right!” he said with a heartless laugh.

Tao’s eyes reddened with panic. “How could you not care if I live or die? That bastard Fang shot me with an arrow and crippled my legs—then beat me with a sword scabbard until I vomited blood! Look, there’s still blood in my mouth!”

He was exaggerating, just to get some sympathy. And sure enough, the Mohe Guard’s gaze slowly returned. Tao quickly opened his robe, exposing the bruises on his chest.

“He struck me so hard—look!”

But the old man suddenly muttered, “Surname Fang?”

His tone turned cold. “What was that man’s name?”

Tao, thinking his grandfather was finally paying attention, said excitedly, “Fang Jingyu! That washed-up bastard disowned by the Langgan Guard! A shabby Xian Mountain officer now, but full of himself!”

The Mohe Guard’s face darkened further.

He bent closer, inspecting the bruise on Tao’s chest. Fang Jingyu’s doing better than expected, he thought. He had assumed the boy with weak limbs back then was long forgotten. Letting the Yu Yin Guard teach him swordsmanship had only been a means of helping him survive a few more winters. But now… a sour feeling rose in his chest. Had I raised a tiger in my backyard without knowing?

But he quickly shook the thought away. A mere Xian Mountain officer—what kind of storm could he possibly stir up in Penglai?

He gave a dismissive snort and straightened to leave—having lost all interest in this unruly grandson.

But then, his eyes fell again on the bruise.

His expression, once indifferent, now twisted in shock. His pupils widened. He bent down once more for a closer look.

“G-Grandfather? What is it?”

“You said… Fang Jingyu struck you with a sword scabbard?”

“Yes! And hard, too—my bones are still ringing!”

“What kind of sword?”

Tao didn’t know why he was asking but answered honestly: “It was wrapped in dry rushes—I couldn’t see clearly. But it was long and thin—definitely a sword.”

The Mohe Guard said nothing.

The dark bruise had faintly formed a pattern—antlers and camel’s head. The sigil of the imperial dragon. A symbol of the royal house.

Most would have missed it, but the Mohe Guard—suspicious and cunning by nature—immediately realized the truth:

The sword that struck his grandson was an imperial blade.

How could Fang Jingyu, a man severed from the Langgan Guard, be in possession of Emperor Bai’s sword?

Dark clouds seemed to settle on the Mohe Guard’s face. His expression grew darker and darker. Tao, watching, was frightened—he had never seen his grandfather look so grim, like a venomous snake about to strike.

“Grandfather… did I… do something wrong?”

Suddenly, thunderous laughter exploded in the courtyard. The old man clapped Tao hard on the shoulder, laughing maniacally:

“No, my boy—you did well. Very well. You’ve helped me understand an old friend’s intentions at last…”

The Mohe Guard’s eyes gleamed with venomous cunning. Every deep wrinkle on his face seemed to hide another scheme.

Facing the open air, he sighed softly, his voice carried by the wind.

“Ten years… Old Fang, you truly planned it all. Thorough and far-reaching indeed.”