HCAW 60

Chapter 60: The Goshawk Sharpens Its Talons

Zheng Deli knelt in the front hall of Qingyu Gao Palace, distraught.

He suddenly felt they were all fledgling chicks, while Yu Ji Guard was a cruel goshawk—not hunting to feed, but only to scorch his talons, seizing and toying with them for sport.

“Miss Qin!” He scrambled over to Xiao Jiao. The sounds of fierce battle rang in the distance, but he had no attention to spare. Xiao Jiao’s chest was torn open, her body limp and collapsed in a pool of blood. With trembling hands, Zheng Deli checked her pulse—there was nothing. She had died on the spot.

Zheng Deli felt as if struck by lightning. He was at a total loss. He remembered the strange meat slice they had obtained from the Da Yuan Dao leader—could it save her?

His eyes turned toward the battle. The pouch containing the meat was on Chu Kuang, who was currently locked in a life-and-death fight with Yu Ji Guard, unable to spare even a second. At that moment, Fang Jingyu sprang up, sword in hand, unleashing a flurry of strikes. The blade flashed like cold lightning, his force vast as a whale swallowing the sea.

Though every blow from Yu Ji Guard sent his blood surging, with Chu Kuang covering him from behind, Yu Ji Guard held back slightly, not striking with full power—allowing Fang Jingyu to hold out for a few exchanges. But it didn’t last. Yu Ji Guard soon became more cautious. As soon as he heard the sound of the bowstring, he would shift instantly, causing several of Chu Kuang’s arrows to miss.

“Heh… you little rat. You’ve grown weaker,” Yu Ji Guard sneered coldly. “You’re just a runaway slave from Qingyu Gao Palace. Why pretend to be an archer? The brothel suits you better!”

But Chu Kuang’s expression didn’t change. He barked, “Your Highness, get clear!”

As if their minds were linked, Fang Jingyu instantly dodged aside. This time, Chu Kuang fired a fire arrow—the gunpowder exploded on Yu Ji Guard, smoke bursting. A second arrow followed through the smoke, a piercing needle arrow. Yu Ji Guard took the hit. Chu Kuang had gained strength—he had eaten another of the Da Yuan Dao meat slices, and his arrows flew with deadly force and precision.

But when the second arrow came, Yu Ji Guard calmly caught it between two fingers, as if snatching a fly. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it back at them.

Chu Kuang panicked and quickly loosed another arrow to detonate it midair, but the blast wave still knocked both him and Fang Jingyu down. As they struggled to rise, Yu Ji Guard crouched slightly—like a predator pouncing.

In a flash, he was on Chu Kuang. Chu Kuang’s eyes widened as Yu Ji Guard raised a fist. Even a flick from this man could be fatal—what more a punch? Chu Kuang hurriedly raised his bone bow to shield himself, but it was useless. The bow was shattered with a single strike. The impact didn’t even land directly, yet it tore through Chu Kuang’s insides, leaving him coughing blood.

Fang Jingyu rushed forward to block with his sword. The Vipashiyin Blade was too heavy for him to wield with precision. Yu Ji Guard saw through this. He spun away from Fang Jingyu and charged straight at Chu Kuang.

Chu Kuang still held the broken bow in a daze. When Yu Ji Guard came, he rolled aside to dodge. But the moment he tried to raise a guard, pain shot through his skull—triggering some deep, unbearable memory. His movements stalled. Yu Ji Guard seized his wrist and slammed him to the ground. With a twist, he snapped his arm bone—Chu Kuang let out a sharp cry.

“Chu Kuang!” Fang Jingyu shouted, heart trembling. He knew now was not the time for hesitation. Despite the pain in his shoulder, he drew the Vipashiyin Blade. Sword in one hand, blade in the other, he lunged at Yu Ji Guard.

But it was already too late.

He saw Yu Ji Guard thrust his clawed fingers—armored with Heavenly Moutain gold—straight into Chu Kuang’s chest.

Chu Kuang’s eyes went wide. The claw withdrew, leaving bloody holes. Blood poured out. The pain surged like a tidal wave.

At that moment, Fang Jingyu rolled forward, seized a barbed needle arrow from the ground, gripped it tight, and lunged at Yu Ji Guard’s temple.

Yu Ji Guard shuddered—he hadn’t faced danger like this in a long time. He jerked his head aside just in time, and the arrow only grazed his cheek, leaving a bleeding line. Chu Kuang collapsed like a cut kite. Fang Jingyu shouldered him up and fled.

Warm blood soaked his clothes. Fang Jingyu’s heart was heavy with grief. Every time, it was the same. Yu Ji Guard struck like a tidal wave—and every time, it was Chu Kuang who bore the brunt of the wounds. And every time, Fang Jingyu could do nothing.

He shouted to Zheng Deli: “Take Xiao Jiao—go!”

Zheng Deli trembled. He knew Xiao Jiao couldn’t possibly survive, but still slung her corpse over his back and fled. With Yu Ji Guard here, Qingyu Gao Palace was a death trap.

They hadn’t gone far when they heard Yu Ji Guard laugh behind them:

“Come and go as you please—how bold. Why don’t you stay? I’ve yet to treat you properly.”

As he spoke, the claw that had taken countless lives lashed out again, gleaming like meteors in candlelight. Fang Jingyu spun and raised the Vipashiyin Blade to block. But Yu Ji Guard caught the blade with one claw, and struck with the other, aiming straight for him.

The claw closed in. Despair surged in Fang Jingyu’s chest. If he fell here—who could save the rest?

But in that instant—A dark shadow shot forward.

That shadow moved with a speed unlike anyone else’s—like a hawk spreading its wings, swift and fierce. Yu Ji Guard was startled, suddenly feeling a weight against his clawed hand—it had been blocked. He looked up to see several arcs of silver light striking down—it was a wildly swung bead chain. Yu Ji Guard caught the chain and turned to look at its source—and froze.

In the firelight appeared a figure drenched in blood, standing strangely with legs apart and one arm hanging limp. A guttural growl rumbled from her throat, like a beast that had lost all sense.

Her eyes twitched wildly, blood trickled from her mouth, and she curled her lips into a feral, bloodthirsty smile. It was none other than Xiao Jiao.

At the sight of her, not only Yu Ji Guard, but also Fang Jingyu and Zheng Deli were dumbfounded. Zheng Deli turned to look—only to realize that Xiao Jiao’s corpse, which had been slung over his back, had vanished without a trace. His limbs went cold, and he blurted out, “How is that possible?!”

It truly was an unbelievable sight. Xiao Jiao had clearly been killed—her chest ripped open, her heart crushed by Yu Ji Guard! And yet here she was, staggering about with a gaping hole in her torso, attacking Yu Ji Guard like a rabid dog. Her chain was her fangs.

Even someone as experienced as Yu Ji Guard had never seen such a thing—someone surviving even after losing their mind and heart. He hesitated. Xiao Jiao’s attacks came like rushing rapids—fierce and relentless. Suspicious she was something inhuman, Yu Ji Guard retreated slightly, giving the others a chance to escape from the main hall.

Xiao Jiao suddenly sprang out of the hall and followed them. She looped the chain around Yu Ji Guard and wrapped it around one of the great pillars of Qingyu Gao Palace. If Yu Ji Guard dared to pull by force, the entire palace would collapse, burying him beneath the rubble. She looked like a maddened beast, but there was still a trace of strategy behind her actions.

Fang Jingyu and Zheng Deli stared in disbelief. Then they saw her collapse weakly, the large hole in her chest beginning to regrow flesh—it was healing slowly.

“What… what’s happening?”

Fang Jingyu said, “Take her with us!”

Their eyes met, and Zheng Deli nodded. Whatever she had become—walking corpse or not—Xiao Jiao had always been their trusted companion. Even if she were some man-eating monster, they could never bear to leave her behind.

They bolted out of Qingyu Gao Palace. Just beyond the floating bridge were a few empty canopy boats. They leapt onto one and paddled away.

Even after escaping a distance, the two were still shaken. Fang Jingyu laid the severely wounded Chu Kuang down from his back, tore his clothing to bind his wounds. When he looked again at Xiao Jiao, she was pale, dozing as if exhausted, her lashes fluttering faintly.

Fang Jingyu suddenly recalled the day he had first found the girl years ago. It had been winter then—snow sealed the mountains. He and the Xian Mountain officers were capturing Da Yuan Dao disciples in Milu Village, and had rescued some imprisoned women and children. Xiao Jiao was one of them. She couldn’t speak and was wrapped in a red quilt, her eyes round and black as longan seeds—sharp and alert like a wild kitten.

When Fang Jingyu rescued her, she was crouched on the ground, eating a string of chili peppers stolen from under someone’s eaves. When he reached to pick her up, she bared saw-like teeth and bit him hard on the hand. Even Orphan Yard had refused to take in such a wild and defiant child. In the end, Fang Jingyu had kept her by his side and raised her.

Even now he didn’t know her origin. Nor did Xiao Jiao—she always assumed she was an orphan and lived happily, causing mischief daily in the academy. As he gazed at her sleeping face, a long-nurtured question surfaced once more:

Who exactly was Xiao Jiao?

And more than that—was she really human?

Just then, Zheng Deli interrupted his thoughts, shouting, “Jingyu, it’s bad!” Fang Jingyu looked over to see his face pale.

“We forgot to bring Miss Si out with us!”

————

Back in Qingyu Gao Palace, a lone candle flickered.

Yu Ji Guard sat in a round-backed chair, eyes closed in thought. After Fang Jingyu’s group escaped the palace, he had snapped the bead chain, unable to pursue them in time. But he had reached out a long arm and caught the straggling girl.

The girl wore wide robes and trousers, a white jade Yu Jue earring shaped like a chicken bone on her ear, her expression cold and hard as cast iron—it was Si Chen of Lei Ze Camp. Yu Ji Guard bound her wrists with the broken chain and tossed her at his feet. Si Chen glared up at him.

“You damn eunuch. Why don’t you just kill me?”

Yu Ji Guard slowly opened his eyes and looked down at her. Si Chen felt like a mountain had landed on her chest—she couldn’t breathe. Yu Ji Guard smiled. “Naturally, it’s because you’re still useful to me.”

“Useful? Isn’t that pampered heir of Emperor Bai more valuable than I am? Isn’t that ‘King Yama’ the one you actually fear? What do you want with me? You might as well use those claws of yours and tear me apart!” she kicked and growled.

“You may not be worth as much as either of them,” Yu Ji Guard said, plucking a token from his belt and tossing it before her, “but to me—you are vital. I want you to do something.”

“Pah! Do I look like someone who would agree to anything you say?”

Yu Ji Guard continued, unfazed. “I want you to kill Yan Xin, the head of Lei Ze Camp. He inherited Yu Jue Guard’s will, and he’s a thorn in my side. If he dies, Yingzhou’s slaves will fall into disarray. If you won’t do it, I could always crush every one of them with my own hands—but that’s far too troublesome.”

Si Chen’s heart clenched. She knew he was capable. He had cut Yu Jue Guard in half; whose head in this world couldn’t he take? He simply didn’t want to do it himself.

She bit her lip. “Then kill me. I’d never take Brother Yan Xin’s life. Do you think I’m the kind of person who’d take orders from you?”

Yu Ji Guard chuckled. “Do you really not know what kind of person you are?”

Si Chen froze.

Yu Ji Guard flicked a finger. A sharp wind tore her sleeve, revealing the branded mark on her arm. “You may not recognize this symbol,” he said, “but it’s unique. Look closely. This Qingyu Gao Palace is full of it.”

Si Chen looked around.

She was horrified to see the same mark on the golden doors, the painted ceiling, the armchairs, the window frames—everywhere was the same symbol as on her branded arm: a bird, not in flight, but craning its neck to cry.

Suddenly, everything clicked. Her body went cold.

It was a rooster.

The brand on her was a rooster emblem, possessed only by the slaves and belongings of Yu Ji Guard. He was known for his lust—and many had served him in bed. It was likely he had left his seed all across the Xian Mountains. Her name was Si Chen—“the herald of dawn”—another name for a rooster.

Yu Ji Guard slowly rose from his chair, the fire casting a long, monstrous shadow behind him like a colossal statue. He looked down at Si Chen with a gaze full of eerie tenderness.

“You are—my daughter.”