HCAW 31

Chapter 31: Ghostly Shadows Stir

Passing through the gate, Fang Jingyu and Xiao Jiao arrived at the inner hall of the Penglai Prefecture.

A camphorwood plaque hung in the hall, inscribed with the characters: “Solemn Reverence.” The space was quiet and still, filled with the fresh scent of gourdwood. Sunlight spilled through the lattice windows in narrow slats, falling on the floor like rows of neatly stacked blocks of tofu. Before a zitan screen stood a square table and a few round-backed chairs. Seated upon one of them was an old woman in black, sipping tea.

As the two of them entered the inner hall, the old woman set down her cup and said coolly, “You’ve arrived.”

Fang Jingyu nodded and guided the trembling Xiao Jiao to sit for tea. This old woman was his master—the Yu Yin Guard who commanded Penglai. Because of the teacher-disciple relationship, he and Xiao Jiao were not treated like the ordinary clerks running about the main hall. Instead, they were summoned to the third hall for direct orders, and even the other Xian Mountain officers treated them with some deference. But Xiao Jiao feared the Yu Yin Guard’s cold and unyielding presence and had been shrinking behind Fang Jingyu like a cowering cat since they entered.

Once they were seated, the Yu Yin Guard finally spoke:

“I’m assigning you a task. You’re to make a trip to Milu Village.”

“Milu Village?” Fang Jingyu blinked.

“You’ve been there before, haven’t you? Ten years ago, ‘King Yama’ committed an atrocious crime there—slaughtering the entire village and turning the place into a sea of corpses. Since then, the village has been abandoned. But lately, there have been rumors. Some say human activity has returned. Some even claim ‘King Yama’ has reappeared and made the village his stronghold. I want you to go and confirm the truth.”

Another case involving “King Yama.” Fang Jingyu frowned. He wasn’t sure when it had started, but the fugitive now felt like a spider’s web—intertwined with everything around him.

“Can I bring others with me?” he asked.

“Of course. ‘King Yama’ is Penglai’s most wanted criminal—any constable of the office may be placed under your command. Also, the captain of the old Penglai cavalry—you know him, don’t you? He’s seen ‘King Yama’ before and is a seasoned veteran. If you think you’ll work better with him, you may bring him along as well.”

Fang Jingyu nodded. Then he saw the old woman’s dry lips curl slightly into a smile. “This matter is of great importance. If you can earn merit on this mission, you might receive one of the Penglai Immortal Palace’s rewards—‘Immortal Elixir.’”

Fang Jingyu’s heart sank. The so-called “Immortal Elixir,” once a distant aspiration, no longer seemed so unreachable—but nor did it feel joyous to pursue. As the son of Emperor Bai, the weight on his shoulders had only grown heavier. Still, if he wanted to stand on equal ground with the Xian Mountain Guards, if he wanted power enough to act, then “Immortal Elixir” was what he needed.

“I will do my best to capture ‘King Yama’ as soon as possible,” he replied at last.

After leaving the Penglai Prefecture, Fang Jingyu returned home to pack. That afternoon, their party set off on horseback for Milu Village.

They numbered twenty to thirty in all. Two riders led the way, with Fang Jingyu and Xiao Jiao close behind. Fang Jingyu, unwilling to leave the suspicious Chu Kuang home alone, and recognizing that this man—who had the audacity to try to kill the Yu Ji Guard—must possess considerable martial skill, dragged him along as well.

The burly, one-eyed man they called “Chief” also came. It had only been a short while, but his skin looked even more tanned, his presence even more untamed. Riding a black steed, the one-eyed man laughed heartily as he called to Fang Jingyu:

“Jingyu! We meet again!”

Fang Jingyu allowed himself a rare smile. “With you here, I feel much more at ease.”

“Don’t say that! I’ve been hoping for a chance to capture ‘King Yama’ and avenge that arrow wound. I should be the one thanking you for letting me tag along.” As he spoke, his eyes passed over Xiao Jiao and landed on a figure riding a horse. He asked curiously, “And this young man?”

Chu Kuang was hunched timidly over the saddle. At some point, he’d wrapped his head and face with a satin kerchief. Fang Jingyu replied, “That’s a servant I recently redeemed. He’s got some fighting ability, so I brought him along.”

The chief nodded. But Chu Kuang stared fixedly at the man’s silken eye patch, then blurted out, “Sorry.”

The one-eyed man looked baffled. “Why are you apologizing to me?” Then he watched as the servant quickly buried his face in the horse’s mane, looking deeply embarrassed—making him seem even more suspicious. Fang Jingyu was also puzzled but explained, “Don’t mind him. He’s a bit dull and says strange things. He’s a bit mad, really.”

With that, the others paid the odd remark no further attention and spurred their horses forward.

After riding for a couple of hours, the skies darkened. The sun was thin, like a floating cut-out, its light weak and faded, while the clouds above were heavy, like iron syrup about to pour. In the distance, Milu Village came into view—fields of dry weeds and red soil, a few thatched huts poking up behind patches of dirty snow. A thread of smoke rose skyward, linking earth and sky—there was life in the village after all.

The entrance to the village was a narrow and rugged path, unsuitable for horses. They tied the sweaty animals to a locust tree and gathered to discuss their approach.

Chu Kuang, dismounting, shed his earlier fearfulness. He pulled a large bun from inside his coat and began chomping down, grease smearing his mouth. As he ate, his sharp eyes gleamed like a hawk’s. He grumbled at Fang Jingyu, “What’s there to discuss? Instead of sightseeing here, wouldn’t it be better to just leave Penglai with me?”

Fang Jingyu’s heart skipped at such treasonous words. In a panic, he snatched the bun and stuffed it back into Chu Kuang’s mouth.

Chu Kuang muffled protests. Fang Jingyu asked coldly, “Where’d you get that bun?”

“Bought it in town… while you weren’t looking.”

“With what money?”

“When you weren’t home—I found it under the bed.”

Fang Jingyu’s heart skipped a beat. How did this guy know I’ve hidden money under the bed since I was a child? He grabbed Chu Kuang and pulled him aside, lowering his voice sharply.

“What you said earlier about leaving Penglai—you are never to say that again. Understood?”

“Master, are you shy?” Chu Kuang kept chewing his bun, his cheeks bulging. “I know you want to leave Penglai. If you just give the word, I’ll carry you out of here on my back if I have to.”

“I’m not leaving! I’m staying here!” Fang Jingyu snapped, raising his voice. The Xian Mountain officers nearby turned their startled eyes toward him, making his face flush with embarrassment. He then hissed at Chu Kuang, “Anyway, I just want to do my duty and guard Penglai properly. Don’t talk to me again about crossing the Heavenly Pass. That’s a capital offense. Got it?”

Chu Kuang gave a grunt and turned his head away, chewing his bun in silence, ignoring him. The man was even playing hard to get now. Fang Jingyu, irritated, ignored him right back, called for the others, and led the group up the stone path into Milu Village.

The village was desolate—wells silted over, wood rotten. Occasionally a bird chirped, but the cries were disjointed and toneless. The ground was hard and crusted over, covered with blackened snow. Before long, faint silhouettes appeared by the roadside—emaciated people in tattered clothing, their limbs so thin they looked like bird claws, sprawled weakly on the ground. Through their threadbare clothes, dark burn marks could be seen—clearly “walking meat,” failed border-crossers caught and branded.

“Do you remember this place?” Fang Jingyu turned and asked Xiao Jiao. “I recall you said you were born here.”

“I was little back then—I barely remember anything about it,” she replied. “But… why are there so many ‘walking meat’ here?”

The one-eyed man said, “This place was wiped out by ‘King Yama.’ No one’s lived here since. These ‘walking meat’ probably drifted here after serving their sentence. It’s quiet, off the map—nobody to bother them. So they settled here.”

The branded vagrants trembled at the sight of the Xian Mountain officers, but hunger left them too weak to flee. They merely twitched and fell still again. Then Chu Kuang piped up from the side:

“Pah! ‘King Yama’ didn’t do that!”

Everyone looked at him. He immediately shut up, chewing his bun and mumbling, “My brain’s broken. Just nonsense. Don’t mind me.”

Xiao Jiao stammered again, “Then… where would ‘King Yama’ be? If he took over this place… aren’t these people afraid? Why don’t they run?”

No one had an answer. Someone said, “Maybe the Yu Yin Guard was mistaken? Maybe ‘King Yama’ was never here.” Another replied, “If everything was normal, why would she send us here at all?”

The debate lasted a while. At last, Fang Jingyu pointed to the thread of smoke rising in the distance. “Doesn’t matter. We should take a look—maybe the answer’s there.”

So the group continued forward in a slow line. The deeper they went, the more barren and bleak the surroundings became. A foul stench clung to the wind, like the odor of rotting corpses. Suddenly, a shout rang out:

“Who’s that up ahead?!”

All heads turned. At the end of the road, two figures were staggering toward them. Their gait was jerky, and an overwhelming stench accompanied them. Flies swarmed around them. One wore a ceremonial cap, his belly grotesquely bloated; the other was dressed in a gilded robe, looking quite young. Both faces were deathly pale, as if covered in white powder.

They looked familiar. The one-eyed man stared for a moment, then his expression changed. He grabbed Fang Jingyu’s arm and said urgently, “…It’s them!”

Fang Jingyu recognized them too, and his face darkened. A month ago, they had crossed paths—these were the merchant peddler and swordsman he’d seen at Jishun Inn in Tongjing Village!

“What are you doing here?” Fang Jingyu asked cautiously.

They had been killed by the insect-wielder Chen Xiao’er of the Da Yuan Dao sect. After that, his fellow officers had said they vanished mysteriously.

Now the two men were trembling like they were having seizures. The peddler’s eyes rolled back as he muttered:

“H-head… my head…”

“What about your head?”

The swordsman twitched violently, a grim smile forming on his face. “Did you see… our heads…?”

And then—crack—their necks snapped in unison. Their heads rolled to the ground!

Everyone gasped in horror. The severed heads were halved, their cross-sections a mangled mess of blood and flesh. Only the caps and headscarves had concealed the wounds until now. Fang Jingyu barked:

“Be careful! These two were killed by a Da Yuan Dao member a month ago. What we’re seeing now… may not be human!”

The officers were frozen with fear. If not humans, then what? How could the dead speak and move?

Just then, a gust of cold wind swept through. The air filled with the metallic stench of blood, and ghostly wails echoed like a thousand souls screaming. The two headless corpses straightened like puppets on strings and charged forward, clawing wildly!

Chaos erupted. The Xian Mountain officers were caught off guard. Fang Jingyu slashed up with his blade, meeting one corpse’s blow. The steel rang loud—its limbs were stiff and cold like iron.

Fang Jingyu reversed his grip and drew the sword from his belt—a blade given to him by the one-eyed man—and slashed cleanly across both corpses’ chests. Black, foul-smelling fluid splattered everywhere. Luckily, he moved fast enough to avoid being drenched.

What was going on? Everyone stared at the two limp corpses on the ground, unable to speak.

“How can dead people… show up here?” Xiao Jiao was shaking uncontrollably, her teeth chattering as she stared at Fang Jingyu. “Tight-Lipped Gourd, could this place… already be a ghost village?”

Just as she said that, one of the severed heads suddenly sprang into the air! Its white teeth bared, it lunged at a nearby officer and clamped down on his face—ripping the flesh into ribbons. Screams exploded like shattered porcelain. The others backed away in horror. It was a ghost—something beyond reason.

The blood-soaked head grinned hideously and launched itself again—this time straight at Xiao Jiao!

But someone had already drawn a bead. A bamboo bow twanged.

A feathered arrow sliced through the gloom like lightning, carrying a force strong enough to shake a mountain. It pierced the head clean through the eye socket, pinning it to a stone.

The other head, too, had been struck. Two arrows, fired in a split second, had nailed both targets.

Fang Jingyu felt as if lightning had flashed in his mind. He spun around and saw Chu Kuang standing there with his bamboo bow, radiating killing intent. His face was impatient, but his jaws were still moving—chewing a bamboo shoot meat bun—and he muttered through a full mouth:

“Can we finish this up already? I’ve got places to go and fun to have outside Penglai!”