HCAW 66

Chapter 66: A Twist of Fate

Chu Kuang lay sprawled on the gunship’s deck, his head pounding as if wrapped in iron chains.

He smelled thick smoke, heard the chaotic clash of battle all around him, and felt the trampling of soldiers’ feet rushing past. His body throbbed with unbearable pain—he realized vaguely that after boarding the Yu Ji Guard’s gunship, he had been struck by a stone projectile and lost consciousness.

Several ribs were broken. He tried to grip his bow, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. Having fallen among corpses, he had been mistaken for a dead man—no one bothered with him.

In a daze, Chu Kuang seemed to hear a sound like thunder splitting the sky, coming from above the deck, as if gods and demons were locked in battle. The roar shook his chest like a war drum, as if the sky itself were about to collapse. After a long time, the sounds began to fade, and the shouts around him grew faint. Only the rain now pierced his skin like needles. His body was freezing cold, his consciousness scattering like mist. Chu Kuang wondered dimly:

Was he going to die?

In the end, he hadn’t even seen the Yu Ji Guard, hadn’t helped the soldiers of Lei Ze Camp. A human life was so fragile—like kindling that hadn’t even sparked before a wave doused it. Chu Kuang coughed a few times, breathing out barely a thread of air—along with a large mouthful of blood.

Suddenly, he felt someone gently approach and lift him up, carrying him on their back.

That motion was so familiar. In an instant, it was as if he were back at the foot of Difei Mountain, years ago. Back then, someone had pulled him from a heap of corpses, carried him step by step to safety.

He opened his eyes and saw the battered silver mask of the person before him. He let out a weak groan. “Mas… ter…”

Lightning ripped through the sky, streaking the heavens like cracks on porcelain. His master carried him slowly through the torrential rain. Hearing his voice, he turned back and said warmly, “What is it? Are you hurting somewhere?”

“It… hurts… a lot.”

“Hold on. I’ll carry you back to the Lei Ze ship. Once we’re there, we can treat your wounds.”

Chu Kuang coughed, “I’m bleeding… all over your cloak… Master, I’ve stained your robe…”

He could smell the thick scent of blood. Straining to lift his eyelids, he saw a trail of crimson where they had walked. But then he realized—the blood wasn’t his. His master’s body was torn open, blood flowing freely. It wasn’t Chu Kuang who had bled—it was the silver-masked man.

“Mas… master!” he cried, forgetting his own pain in horror.

But the silver-masked man only smiled. “It’s nothing, Chu Kuang.” Yet each time he spoke, a thick gush of blood spilled from his mouth. Chu Kuang trembled and asked, “Was it… was it the Yu Ji Guard?”

“Death is like the extinguishing of a lamp. My wick burned out long ago. Even without him, I would’ve died.” The silver-masked man sighed. “Though I severely wounded the Yu Ji Guard, he escaped. I no longer have the strength to chase him. My time is up. Today… is the day I die.”

“No… I don’t want… Master to die…”

Suddenly, tears burst from Chu Kuang’s eyes like a spring.

He had always stood alone, knowing nothing. It was his master who had picked him up, like a fledgling bird still in its shell. His master had taught him archery and martial arts. On the countless nights when old nightmares haunted him, it was his master who sat at his bedside, gently patting his head, humming a soft tune. The same master who roasted meat with him by the fire, who crawled to temple walls to catch medicine beetles for his headaches, always getting bitten by mosquitoes. The master who always smiled with gentle ease… When everyone in the world had scorned him, trampled him underfoot, it was this man who had pulled him out of the dust.

“Master… you still haven’t returned to Penglai. I haven’t even mastered your teachings… Don’t die… please…”

He had lost too much blood, and his words became incoherent. The silver-masked man smiled and said:

“There are still ten hours left in this day. I’m not in a hurry to die. Let’s patch you up first.”

Chu Kuang clutched his cloak, his voice growing faint. When the silver-masked man looked back, he saw the boy had passed out again, eyes closed in pain, drenched in blood and rain, like a pitiful little drowned dog. He smiled faintly and gently laid him on the deck, brushing his face.

“My path ends here,” the silver-masked man whispered. “But Chu Kuang, yours will be a path completely unlike mine. Yours is just beginning.”

Then he turned, facing the torrential rain, and his expression suddenly became as sharp as frost.

A flash of lightning lit up a towering figure—Yu Ji Guard stood at the far end of the deck, covered in wounds, entrails spilling, yet still smiling viciously.

“I thought you’d thrown yourself into the sea just now,” the silver-masked man said coldly, all the gentleness from before gone. “Looks like I’ll have to drag you to hell myself, you old bastard.”

“You’re bent on dying. Even heavily injured, you feel nothing. How dull!” The Yu Ji Guard’s gaze shifted to the unconscious Chu Kuang, and he let out a cruel laugh, coughing blood as he spoke.

“You don’t even belong to Yingzhou. You came from Penglai, killed its rightful ruler, and now rule this place alone.”

“So what? I’ve been waiting for your weakness to show. That little brat—he’s your burden, your weak spot. Look at your belt—where’s your Chengying Sword now?”

The silver-masked man glanced at his waist and saw it was empty. Looking up again, he found the Chengying Sword in the hands of the Yu Ji Guard. It turned out that he had been severely injured earlier, and in the agony that gnawed at his heart, he had bent down to help Chu Kuang, not noticing that the tie around his waist had come undone, causing the Chengying Sword to fall to the ground, where it was swiftly snatched away by the Yu Ji Guard.

“Even without Chengying, so what?” the silver-masked man laughed.

“Yu Ji Guard—your killer is me, not the sword!”

Yu Ji Guard stepped forward slowly, the rain falling like curtains from the sky. The world beyond blurred into mist, but his figure remained clear. The elder’s gaze burned like a torch, the silver-masked man’s eyes dark as ink. The two advanced toward each other, murderous auras surging—tension about to snap.

“Good. Then let us begin our second round!” Yu Ji Guard roared with laughter, fierce as a tiger:

“In Yingzhou, I alone reign supreme!”

_____

Meanwhile, on the Lei Ze ship, black smoke rolled thick, and the air reeked of gunpowder and sulfur. The Lei Ze Camp soldiers had suffered heavy casualties—bodies strewn in every direction.

Ruyi Guard remained at the battlement, eyes fixed on the distant gunship. A soldier rushed over and said, “Ruyi Guard, it’s dangerous here—we’re about to retreat. Please, return to the cabin!”

“Dangerous?” Ruyi Guard shook her head, gripping her mighty warbow. “Wherever we Xian Mountain Guards stand, that’s where the danger is. Go back to the cabin—I’ll stay and support those still aboard the gunship.”

The soldier hesitated, unwilling to abandon her, but dared not argue and lingered under the mast. Ruyi Guard squinted toward the gunship. Earlier, the silver-masked man and Yu Ji Guard had clashed violently in the cabin, shaking heaven and sea. But now, the ship had fallen silent.

She resolved—if she caught even a glimpse of Yu Ji Guard, she would draw and fire without hesitation. The Daqu bow and Jin Pugu, the divine arrows—either could shoot over six hundred paces, pierce a body with brutal force, and leave wounds nearly impossible to heal. These two weapons were truly forged to kill Yu Ji Guard.

The waves surged. Sea mist blanketed the world. The rain fell like gauze, and a faint melancholy settled over Ruyi Guard’s heart. She gazed over the ocean and drifted into memory.

Nearly a hundred years ago, under Emperor Bai’s rule, Penglai was rich and prosperous. If not for the invasion of frost and snow, that peaceful age could’ve lasted for millennia. At that time, the Xian Mountain Guards, though independent in spirit, all bowed to Emperor Bai’s brilliance and loyally served him. But after he marched to war, they scattered like bones without a spine.

Though Emperor Changyi lacked Bai’s charisma, he found an eccentric capable of brewing Immortal Elixir and made him National Preceptor, using the elixir to control the Xian Mountain. The elixir cured ailments and prolonged life. The emperor consumed it endlessly, his strength now fathomless. The guards dared not move against him. Yet Immortal Elixir was a mad drug, one that silently twisted the mind—it was a seed of greed, wrath, and madness.

Ruyi Guard thought again of the silver-masked man. He was someone she could only look up to from afar—peerless in martial skill, like a dragon striding among the stars. She was born to a family of diviners but hated omens and augury, preferring the bow and saddle. Her family often scolded her, believing her mad. But he never did.

He once told her, “If you want something—just go do it.” He picked up a bow, drew and released. An arrow soared like a white arc through the sky. Turning to her, he said, “Look at that arrow—once it’s loosed, who can stop where it goes? Were you born to follow others’ commands? I think not. You can be like that arrow too—free, bound to nothing.”

She had stared at that arrow, stunned. No one had ever said such things to her—let alone someone like him. Later, she became Ruyi Guard. Though they seldom met, she knew he was someone from the Phoenix Pool,¹He’s from a place of power and prestige—someone exceptional, elevated, almost untouchable. a being she could never hope to equal. He had saved her from death more than once.

Ruyi Guard knew—she had always been looking up at him. If now she could aid him, even just a little in his fight against Yu Ji Guard, it would be her way of repaying him.

The sea surged, waves howled, like a monster intent on devouring all of Yingzhou. Through the dense curtain of rain, she suddenly saw a flash of white skim past the gunship battlement. She hurriedly raised her warbow.

It was just a flash, but her eyes were sharp—she saw it clearly. A white cloak embroidered with pheasants—Yu Ji Guard’s usual garb.

She steadied her breath, drew a Jin Pugu arrow, her fingers brushing the fletching. The white shadow flitted through the mist, seemingly locked in battle with the silver-masked man. Ruyi Guard exhaled and loosed the arrow. It shot forth like a blazing beam, cutting through the rain, and pierced the white figure.

Hit!

Ruyi Guard’s heart surged with joy. She had struck Yu Ji Guard—the Jin Pugu arrow would wound him deeply, granting the silver-masked man a chance to win! But something felt wrong. The white figure slowly rose into the air—lifted by someone.

Then she saw it. A strong arm raised that white shape, peeling back the bloodstained cloak.

She saw the truth.

Yu Ji Guard was holding someone by the throat—someone limp, bloodied. The white cloak fluttered away. It hadn’t been Yu Ji Guard at all. He had seized that person, draped them in his cloak, and lifted them deliberately, tricking Ruyi Guard into taking the shot.

She had pierced the silver-masked man with an Jin Pugu arrow. Blood poured from his chest like a spring, and his mask shone pale beneath the rain.

She had killed him.

Suddenly, a strangled cry escaped her mouth—raw, broken. Her bow dropped to the ground like a thousand-jin weight. Rain beat down on her, soaking through her bones.

The Lei Ze soldiers stared in stunned silence as the young girl crumpled to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Their Xian Mountain Guard—this being above all others—was reduced to a weeping mess.

They could not see clearly what had occurred on the gunship, but they all remembered one thing:

From that day on, Ruyi Guard never set foot on the Lei Ze ship again.

And for the rest of her life—

She never drew her bow again.

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  He’s from a place of power and prestige—someone exceptional, elevated, almost untouchable.