HCAW 59

Chapter 59: Sea Boiling, Mountains Shattering

Night hung like a mist, wisps and tendrils blanketing the sky. In front of the ship’s porthole, firelight outlined a lone figure—Chu Kuang stood gazing into the distance, his expression dazed and lost.

Though he had joked and bickered with Fang Jingyu earlier, his heart remained heavy. At the thought of Fang Jingyu, pain pierced him to the marrow. Now that he had brought Fang Jingyu safely out of Penglai, his master’s dying wish had been fulfilled. So then—for what reason should he go on living? The road ahead was long, and many would surely flock to serve under Emperor Bai’s son. Fang Jingyu no longer needed his protection.

If Fang Jingyu no longer needed him… then was it time for him to descend to the Yellow Springs?

A shadow dulled Chu Kuang’s eyes. He had clung to life only to fulfill his master’s final wish. As for himself, he had never harbored the slightest desire to linger in this world. Tortured to the brink of madness, wandering the streets like a vagrant for years, he was already steeped in filth. Someone as wretched and foul as he—wouldn’t the world be cleaner if he simply died? Life was only suffering. He had long since yearned for death.

He stepped out of the cabin and down the stairs. On deck, Lei Ze soldiers were oiling their blades and polishing edges. Some were crafting bows—bamboo and wood for the frame, sinew and horn glued tight. Chu Kuang watched for a while and thought of how his master had once taught him archery. He reached up and touched the bone bow, Fan Ruo, cradled in his arms. The soldiers greeted him warmly, but he responded half-heartedly and left.

Fang Jingyu was nowhere to be seen. He wandered aimlessly until he reached the upper deck. The night was deep, the wind cold, and the dark sea churned. A lone silhouette stood in the rain—it was that girl, Si Chen.

Chu Kuang walked over and stood beside her in silence, shoulder to shoulder, both gazing out at the surging sea. Again and again, waves crashed and shattered at their feet, a thousand flecks of jade and pearl bursting apart.

The girl, stoic as ever, finally broke the silence. She cast a cold glance at him and said, “So you’re leaving after all?”

Chu Kuang nodded. “We leave tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, under the escort of Lei Ze soldiers, they would depart for Qingyu Gao Mountain. With the Yu Ji Guard—ruler of Yingzhou and enemie of the Yu Jue Guard—currently absent, the mountain’s defenses had weakened. With the Lei Ze Camp’s help, they could stir chaos, draw away the garrison, and slip through the gates unnoticed.

Si Chen sneered, her words sharp as blades: “Go on then. Rest your feet and go. So much for the mighty ‘King Yama’—turns out he couldn’t save Yingzhou after all. Just another coward.”

Chu Kuang smiled too. In the dark, his crimson double pupil gleamed like a feral beast’s. “I don’t like you.”

“Oh? Because I spoke the truth about your uselessness?”

“No. Because you and I are the same kind of beast. Alone, empty-handed. Willing to cast everything aside just for revenge.”

Chu Kuang said, and turned to leave, leaving Si Chen alone in the wind and rain.

“Yingzhou must save itself,” he said. “Just like vengeance—it cannot be handed to another.”

The next day, the rain fell like fine threads, mist veiling the world in gauze. Once everything was prepared, Zheng Deli packed his bone pieces and medicine box. The others readied their blades and swords and made for Qingyu Gao Mountain in the heart of the great whirlpool.

Fang Jingyu caught sight of Chu Kuang. Their eyes met—and something strange flickered in the silence. Finally, it was Chu Kuang who broke it, calling coolly:

“Your Highness.”

Fang Jingyu replied, “What? Just yesterday you were calling me master, big brother, father, husband, penny-pinching rat, and even ‘little prick.’ And today it’s suddenly all formal?”

Chu Kuang responded icily, “How dare a lowly one be disrespectful to Emperor Bai’s heir? From now on, I’ll only call you ‘Your Highness.’”

He was clearly sulking. In a few days he’d probably go back to his deranged self. Fang Jingyu could only laugh and left him be.

Along the way, Yan Xin briefed everyone: a squad would lure the guards to the floating bridge, where a prepared boat armed with stone-throwing devices would ambush and destroy them. With attacks from both sea and land, the guards would be trapped, and Fang Jingyu’s group could take the opportunity to reach Qingyu Gao Mountain and pass through the gate. Yan Xin issued his orders with practiced ease, and everyone felt reassured.

From afar, they looked toward the edge of Yingzhou. Lightning flickered within storm clouds, thunder crashing over the ocean. The sea roared without pause. In this endless storm, Yingzhou seemed shielded by a wall of wind and waves, cutting off any pursuers. The wind currents would last another month. They had been in Yingzhou just over two days and were already rushing to the next Xian Mountain—truly a hasty campaign.

Fang Jingyu felt regret. Having seen how Yingzhou’s slaves suffered, he wished he could ensure they’d all live in comfort. But time was short, and escaping pursuit was the priority. He would save Yingzhou another day. That girl Si Chen, however, continued to pierce them with her sword-sharp stares.

In the distance, Qingyu Gao Mountain came into view. It rose from the sea like Guanyin’s clean water vase¹ 淨瓶 (jingping) that Guanyin (the Bodhisattva of Compassion) often holds—it’s a sacred vessel said to contain purifying water that brings peace and blessings., covered in soft green. At its peak stood the Yingzhou Gate.

A thought crossed Fang Jingyu’s mind: “Strange. Why is the Yingzhou Gate at the top of the mountain?”

A gate at the summit—what could it lead to?

Yan Xin noticed his confusion and smiled. “There’s a hidden tunnel in Qingyu Gao Mountain. You have to enter from the summit. It runs beneath the sea and leads to Fanghu.”

Legend said Fanghu was another Xian Mountain borne on a giant ao turtle’s²mythological creature in Chinese folklore back, with tranquil lakes and lush forests. But that raised another mystery: a tunnel under the sea should be battered by waves—how could it endure? And how would people breathe inside it?

Yan Xin only laughed. “The tunnel’s an ancient creation—best not to overthink it.”

Following the plan, the Lei Ze soldiers successfully lured the guards away. Fang Jingyu’s group rushed for Qingyu Gao Mountain. At the foot of the mountain sat Qingyu Gao Palace—jade-tiled pavilions gleaming with gold. The guards wore ceremonial training armor, gripping short lances, but they lounged idly in groups playing leaf games. When the group attacked, the guards were caught off guard. Not until Xiao Jiao swung her chain and knocked them down did they start to cry out in chaos.

Fang Jingyu swung the Vipashyin Blade like a cudgel, its weight smashing guards unconscious with each blow. Though rough and imprecise, it worked. There were too many fools—so the group cut through them like bamboo.

Zheng Deli followed behind them, frowning. “Strange… if the defenses of Qingyu Gao Palace are so easy to break through, why didn’t Lord Yan lead the brothers of Lei Ze Camp to take this palace and free Yingzhou?”

Although Yan Xin had separated from them for now, drawing off a large portion of the palace guards with Lei Ze soldiers, the girl Si Chen still trailed their group. At Zheng Deli’s words, she scoffed and said:

“Isn’t it because they fear the old monster enjoying himself in Qingyu Gao Palace? That man is the nightmare of Yingzhou. Once he returns, Yingzhou will be turned upside down. What you see now is just small skirmishes—barely enough to slip by unnoticed. But if we really try to storm the palace, it won’t end so easily.”

“Who is he?”

Though none had heard the name of the Xianshan Guard who ruled over Yingzhou, all were familiar with tales of his cruelty. It was said he had strength enough to tear mountains from their roots, and had once killed the ninth-ranked Yu Jue Guard by cleaving him in two. Rumor also claimed Yingzhou was nothing more than his golden pleasure den, filled with singers and courtesans serving him day and night. Some even whispered of bone chairs and benches made from human remains—that to him, Yingzhou’s slaves were nothing but dust beneath his feet.

“That man is—” Si Chen began, but her face suddenly changed.

At that moment, they rushed past the hanging columns and entered the front hall. Inside, the lantern light was dim, the lattice windows cast faint shadows, and golden bricks paved the floor. Only the front was faintly lit, like the hem of sunset touching the earth, while behind them was deep darkness.

And from within that darkness came footsteps that shook the heavens and the earth.

Thud. Thud.

Each step crashed upon their hearts like a war drum. Si Chen’s expression shifted—then she screamed, desperate and sharp: “Run! Run now!”

But it was too late.

A hand emerged from the shadows—gnarled, powerful, its veins coiled like black snakes. That aged hand reached out as if tearing through paper, and with ease, plunged straight into Xiao Jiao’s chest.

All of them froze.

Not even a cry escaped. Only the sickening squelch of flesh and blood tore through the silence. That hand moved like it was retrieving something from a sack—effortlessly pulling Xiao Jiao’s heart from her body.

Blood gushed like a fountain. A gaping hole opened in Xiao Jiao’s chest as she collapsed.

From the darkness emerged a figure—behind that blood-soaked arm appeared an old man, his white hair disheveled, his frame lean but solid. He wore a plain robe embroidered with red, adorned with a five-colored pheasant pattern. At his waist hung a milky white jade pendant. His presence was like a mountain; his footsteps like thunder.

He burst into laughter—a chilling gale from the depths of the abyss, loud enough to nearly rip their ears away. With eyes like bronze bells, he picked up where Si Chen had left off, laughing:

“That’s right… I am the Yu Ji Guard!”

The second-ranked guard of Xian Moutain Guards—Yu Ji Guard!

All at once, they felt like they were standing at the edge of an abyss.

Fang Jingyu’s hands and feet went ice cold. He knew this old man’s terror too well—just a flick of the finger could tear flesh from bone. And now Xiao Jiao was dead in a single strike, her life stolen in an instant. Everyone who witnessed it was filled with despair, frozen like statues. So the one who ruled Yingzhou was none other than the Yu Ji Guard. This palace was his lair outside the frontier.

But the whirlwinds still surrounded Yingzhou. How had Yu Ji Guard caught up? They had thought their pursuers left behind—yet here he was, lying in wait all along.

As if reading their thoughts, Yu Ji Guard smiled and said, “Not long after you escaped from Penglai, I set out to chase you. It just so happened that I arrived faster—so I waited here.”

“N-no way…” Zheng Deli’s face turned pale. “The Langgan Guard destroyed all four battle ships. How could you have had a vessel from Penglai—?”

“There were no ships,” Yu Ji Guard laughed uproariously, his eyes burning like twin torches. “I came alone—riding a bamboo raft across the roaring seas!”

To cross the treacherous ocean on nothing but a bamboo raft—what kind of body must one possess to survive that? Everyone’s heart chilled. They realized now just how much they had underestimated this man.

Yu Ji Guard said, “I knew searching through the thousands of outer boats would be a bother. But I also knew you’d pass through Qingyu Gao Mountain to leave Yingzhou—so I decided to wait here for you to walk into the trap yourselves.”

“And now,” he cackled, eyes locked on Fang Jingyu, “Emperor Bai’s son, it’s time for this old man to wash away the shame of the Heavenly Pass with your blood!”

As he spoke, he crushed Xiao Jiao’s heart in one hand and lunged forward like a tiger down a mountain. The air exploded with his momentum. Fang Jingyu raised the Hanguang Sword and Vipashyin Blade in an instant, but it was like leaves in a storm—he was sent flying. That bloodstained arm came again, fingers like blades, tearing through the air toward him.

Chu Kuang saw it all—and his heart seized tight.

Suddenly, he remembered.

He still had one thing left to do.

The Yu Ji Guard was his mortal enemy—between them was a sea of blood and vengeance. Before he could rest in the Yellow Springs, he would become a vengeful ghost, with fangs bared.

It happened in a flash.

He yanked open the pigskin pouch at his waist and shoved a slice of meat—the one given by the Da Yuan Dao leader—into his mouth. Sickness, pain—he didn’t care. The moment he swallowed, lightning jolted through his veins. Chu Kuang grabbed his bow and fired three arrows in rapid thunderclaps.

The arrows struck with such force that one pierced Yu Ji Guard’s palm, forcing the old man to halt his charge.

Chu Kuang threw himself between Fang Jingyu and death, killing intent blazing from his double pupils.

“And what,” he snarled, “do you plan to do to my Highness, big brother, father, husband, penny-pinching rat—and sworn little brother?”

His smile was wild and wicked.

In the dim firelight, Chu Kuang stood like a war god, Fan Ruo in hand.

“Old rooster,” he growled,

“Your opponent is me!”

• 1
  淨瓶 (jingping) that Guanyin (the Bodhisattva of Compassion) often holds—it’s a sacred vessel said to contain purifying water that brings peace and blessings.
• 2
  mythological creature in Chinese folklore