HCAW 35

Chapter 35: The Awl Within the Sack

The fall of the Da Yuan Dao sect leader hit like a thunderclap across Penglai, shaking everyone to their core.

For days, the streets of Penglai were strung with lanterns and banners, pavilions burst with celebratory flags, and underground broadsheets swarmed the alleys like locusts, all lavishly praising the hero who had brought down the sect’s leader. Public opinion surged in a frenzy.

The reports claimed that this great hero had once been the head of the Jueyuan Cavalry under one of Penglai’s twenty-four palaces. Yet after a battle with King Yama a year prior, he had lost an eye and committed a grave error. Thus demoted, he worked alongside the lowest-ranked Xian Mountains officers. But as the saying went—an awl in the sack will still pierce through—this former commander soon earned his glory again: with a single arrow, he had slain the leader of the Da Yuan Dao sect.

The sect had long been a thorn in the current emperor’s side. It preached of a paradise beyond Penglai, coaxing people to flee across Heavenly Pass, ruining households and tearing families apart. Its followers were like weeds—burn them down, and they grew again. No one had ever seen the sect leader’s true face. But when the former commander brought back a cloak soaked with mangled flesh—one embroidered with the sect’s signature peach emblem—and when the Xian Moutain officers who had accompanied him all vouched it had belonged to the sect leader, no one questioned the feat. Upon hearing this, Emperor Changyi was overjoyed and ordered a jar of “Immortal Elixir” be awarded to the hero.

So for a time, all Penglai was jubilant. Crowds clogged the streets, eager to catch a glimpse of the man’s return from the Immortal Palace. In every teahouse and tavern, voices spoke only of how valiant the commander was in slaying the cult leader.

While the eight avenues buzzed, the Fang family’s small courtyard remained as silent as ever.

Xiao Jiao squatted in the side room, stoking the fire under a medicine pot. Chu Kuang washed the horse’s hooves in the rear courtyard. In the dim main room, Fang Jingyu lay on his bed, eyes closed, breathing faintly, his face pale as snow.

His chest was wrapped in linen, the cloth faintly tinged with red. Though he’d been treated after being pierced by ” Great Immortal Yonghe’s” tentacles, the wound was slow to heal. The one-eyed man sat at his bedside, repeatedly wiping sweat from his brow.

Fang Jingyu opened his eyes slightly and said weakly, “I’m troubling you, Captain… for looking after me.”

“Nonsense!” the man replied. “We’ve fought through fire and blood together—brothers through and through. This is nothing. And you were wounded protecting the rest of us. If not for you, more would’ve died in that ghost village.”

Fang Jingyu’s expression dimmed at that—he seemed to recall the officers who had died in the village. Though they’d secured a great victory, they hadn’t all made it out intact.

But not wanting to cause worry, he shifted the topic and forced a faint smile. “Captain, you’ve been detained too long in my shabby courtyard. I imagine the Immortal Palace must have laid out a great feast in your honor by now.”

“They did take me to a banquet,” the man replied with a chuckle. But then he sighed and said, “Truthfully, I don’t think the credit should be mine alone. Everyone who went deserves a share—especially those who didn’t make it back. I’ve already divided the palace reward among their families. I only hope they may rest easy in the afterlife.”

Fang Jingyu gave a slight nod and closed his eyes, silently praying for them. After a moment, he opened them again and said, “I was careless. Fell into Great Immortal Yonghe’s trap and couldn’t last to the end. Either way, you earned the first merit. A larger reward is only fair.”

“Speaking of first merit…” the one-eyed man hesitated. After a pause, he finally said, “That servant in your house—”

“You mean Chu Kuang? He took a blow to the head. A bit touched in the mind, but he’s not bad with a blade. He caught cold recently and hasn’t recovered. Keeps complaining about headaches—can’t do much work these days.” Fang Jingyu spoke slowly, his voice growing tired. He leaned against his pillow.

“His archery is impressive,” the man said. “He shot faster and truer than I did. Frankly, he’s the one who should’ve received the Immortal Palace’s reward.”

Fang Jingyu replied, “I doubt he even knows how to write the word ‘reward.’”

They both laughed.

Just as the man was about to say more, a great clamor rose outside. Fang Jingyu said, “The neighbors know you’re visiting. Seeing that our cook’s ill, they’re worried you might be cold or hungry, so they’ve brought food and water. Xiao Jiao said she already turned away a few folks this morning. I didn’t expect another wave before noon!”

The captain smiled. “I’ll go check on your medicine.” Seeing that Fang Jingyu was weak, he wisely took his leave.

Stepping out the door, the one-eyed man exhaled deeply. A puff of white mist rose from his lips and vanished like a butterfly into the air.

He surveyed the humble courtyard: a large parasol tree, an old well, a few shabby yet tidy rooms, a horse stable just around a crumbling wall. This place could be seen end to end in one glance. That Fang Jingyu—who, despite his humility, carried a trace of noble pride—lived like this was simply hard to believe.

He thought of his own family. He had two sons, the elder about the same age as Fang Jingyu. That boy always treated him with the utmost respect—as a father or an elder brother. And he knew Fang Jingyu had had a hard life, born with little warmth from the world.

The one-eyed man strolled toward the stable and couldn’t help but let out a laugh. He saw Chu Kuang brushing the horse—cleaning one hoof pick before leaning against the shed to doze off a moment, looking every bit the lazy slacker. The man walked over, chuckling as he greeted:

“Brother Chu?”

Chu Kuang turned around in a daze. When he saw it was the one-eyed man, he slowly got up, hunched and cautious, and asked, “Does milord have any orders?”

“How could I dare give orders to someone under Brother Fang’s care?” the man laughed, shaking his head. He pulled out a small pouch from his robes and handed it to Chu Kuang. “This is your rightful reward. Take it.”

Chu Kuang opened the pouch and saw it was filled with gleaming gold. His drool almost hit the floor. He hurriedly stuffed the pouch into his shirt like he was guarding a meal. The one-eyed man laughed. “This is a share from my reward. You fired six arrows and wounded ‘Great Immortal Yonghe.’ You deserve the lion’s share.”

“Thank you, milord! Thank you, milord!” Chu Kuang bowed again and again.

The one-eyed man watched his cringing, groveling manner and said nothing for a long while. At last, he added, “I was going to report to His Majesty that you were the one who truly earned first merit. But then I changed my mind. If you had received that merit and entered the Immortal Palace… it might’ve been a great misfortune for you.”

Chu Kuang blinked blankly, confused. But the other man’s tone turned sharper.

“Isn’t that so?” the one-eyed man said. “…‘King Yama’.”

Suddenly, Chu Kuang’s expression changed.

The shock on his face was clear as day—there was no mistaking it. That superhuman archery. That red, dual-pupiled eye. There couldn’t be a second person like this under heaven!

In an instant, the one-eyed man lunged forward and grabbed Chu Kuang’s arms. Chu Kuang was too startled to resist before being slammed hard into the stable wall. Dust rained down. The horse snorted nervously.

“It is you—‘King Yama’!” the man growled, blood vessels popping in his eyes. “You’re the one who took my eye and injured my brothers in the Jiwei Desert a year ago!”

He roared like a tiger and yanked up Chu Kuang’s hair. Sure enough, beneath the messy strands was that brilliant, blood-red dual pupil. The man’s chest heaved—how could this be? How could this be! The man he’d hunted so long had been right beside him all along. Truly, one scours the land in vain, only to find the prize had been underfoot the whole time!

He glared at Chu Kuang, waiting for him to drop the act and reveal his savage true nature.

But unexpectedly, Chu Kuang said, “Yes. I’m the ‘King Yama.’ Sorry.”

He brushed the man’s wrist aside, and the one-eyed man reflexively let go. Chu Kuang calmly picked up the stiff-bristle brush and resumed brushing dust from the horse’s side. Seeing his casual attitude, the man barked:

“Don’t you have anything else to say?”

Chu Kuang chuckled. “What’s there to say? I just confessed, didn’t I? You want me to apologize, kowtow, gouge out an eye to make amends—I’ll do it. But right now, I still have a reason you can’t haul me to the authorities.”

“What reason?” the man asked coldly.

Suddenly, Chu Kuang felt a sharp jab in his back. Something hard pressed against his spine. From the corner of his eye, he saw the man holding an arrow—its tip pressing into his flesh. It was the same arrow that had slain “Great Immortal Yonghe.”

The man struck again, this time without mercy. Chu Kuang, unskilled in close combat, was taken down before he could react. A crushing force clamped his neck and slammed his knee, flipping him head over heels. He hit the ground hard, bones creaking, chest heaving for breath. Pain ripped through his shoulder. His face went pale, and a low groan slipped from clenched teeth.

The man pinned him down, glaring from above. “Tell the truth! Why are you staying at Fang Jingyu’s side?”

“There’s no damned plot!” Chu Kuang shouted through the pain. “I’m going to take him away—over the Heavenly Pass!”

The man froze. He recalled hearing Chu Kuang mutter something similar before, but he’d dismissed it as nonsense. He growled, “Ridiculous. Leaving Penglai without sanction is a capital crime!”

“So what?” Chu Kuang snarled. “It was my master’s dying wish. I have to take one person out of the Heavenly Pass. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be that stiff-faced bastard—but I think he’s the right one now!”

“Brother Fang has a future ahead of him! He’s going to rise high soon. Why would he leave with you? You rebel! You want to lure him into defying the law?!”

“Bullshit! He will come with me!” Chu Kuang roared. He didn’t know why he said it, or why he believed it so firmly. The arrow wound in his head throbbed with fresh agony, as if a massive axe had split open his skull. Sweat poured down like rain.

Suddenly, his mind blurred. A dizzy spell swept over him. He remembered how his master had clutched his hand before dying. Was this wish to bring someone across the pass really from his master? His mind was always foggy—he forgot things, confused memories. Maybe his master had never said such a thing at all.

Was this desire just something he’d imagined? If so, where did the urge come from? Why did it burn so fiercely inside him?

The man realized Chu Kuang had stopped resisting. But looking down, he saw the youth’s eyes bulging, jaw clenched, blood-red pupils blazing with madness.

Suddenly, a tear slipped from those wild eyes.

“King Yama”… was crying.

There was grief in that tear. Hatred. And a desperate, unyielding resolve.

Chu Kuang gritted his teeth and hissed:

“I’m going to take him out of Penglai… I’ve lived this long for one reason—to make that wish come true… I will take him out of Penglai!”