HCAW 69

Chapter 69: The Fire Carries On After the Fuel Is Gone

Within the Qingyu Gao Palace, ten thousand candles blazed, and in the Hall of Light, nine dragons cradled the sun in relief. At the center stood a gilded brass throne. Yu Ji Guard sat in the golden glow, turning a cinnabar-red vial over in his hand, deep in thought.

A soldier entered and reported, “Lord Yu Ji Guard, Yan Xin of Lei Ze Camp has died.”

Yu Ji Guard returned to himself and smiled. “Excellent. Who struck the blow?”

“It was his sister, Si Chen.”

“Heh… Though the girl never gave me a direct answer, things turned out just as I expected.” Yu Ji Guard muttered to himself, “Killing Yan Xin would’ve been easy for me, but just like with Yu Jue Guard, killing the leader alone won’t make the rebels surrender. Another will just rise in his place. That’s why I devised a plan to ruin them both. Now Yan Xin is dead, and Si Chen is broken. The rebel army is in shambles, never to rise again. Beautiful.”

The soldier bowed low, trembling. “Y-yes, my lord is most wise.”

Yu Ji Guard’s smile deepened. He looked toward the dim hall and sighed slowly.

“Immortal Elixir was never meant for ordinary men. Most who take it go mad—only those who survive the burning of their hearts can become worthy seedlings for the Xian Mountain Guard. Heh… Ruyi Guard meant well, leaving that elixir for him, but in the end, it only pushed him into the fire.”

After a moment of silent thought, he nodded with a smile.

“To truly kill a man, one must break his heart first.”

____

The rain had not stopped. Streets and alleys were slick with mire. Misty rain hung like gauze, making it impossible to see the road ahead.

And in that rain, a disheveled girl trudged forward with difficulty. On her back was a pitch-black corpse, leaving a trail of blood wherever she passed.

Soaked to the bone, shivering from cold and sorrow, Si Chen thought back on Yu Ji Guard’s words a few days prior. He’d told her that if she killed Yan Xin, the Lei Ze rebel army might survive. But Si Chen knew well how cunning and twisted he was. Even if she obeyed, it would only doom them both.

And now—through a cruel twist of fate—she’d truly caused Yan Xin’s death. Just as Yu Ji Guard had wanted. Rage burned in her chest, and tears flowed uncontrollably.

The Lei Ze ship was scarred and blackened from battle. Soldiers sat dejected on the planks, drained and exhausted.

Half a day had passed since the battle. Si Chen forced herself to keep going and finally stepped aboard. When the guards saw her, they gasped. And when she laid the corpse at their feet, shock turned to horror.

“General Yan!” “Boss!” The soldiers crowded around in a panic, shouting and wailing. The crowd thickened, shouts turned to sobs. After a long time, silence fell. Everyone wept openly.

Si Chen lowered her head like a child who’d done wrong. In a low voice, she said, “I found him at Yueying Bridge. He’s… he’s gone.”

Whispers slowly rippled through the crowd. Someone stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “What happened to General Yan?”

“It… it was Yu Ji Guard,” Si Chen mumbled, not daring to say more.

“I heard from some runners you were fighting General Yan on that bridge. Is that true?”

Si Chen’s heart jumped. “That was because… Brother Yan Xin had gone mad—he was attacking people! I was only trying to stop him so he wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

But her words brought suspicion.

“How could General Yan go mad for no reason?”

“I don’t know! It must be Yu Ji Guard’s scheme!”

“Lies!” someone suddenly shouted. “I heard it was a girl who killed him—and that girl was you!”

Si Chen went cold. “After I was taken by Yu Ji Guard, I don’t know what happened… But Yan Xin had turned into that man-eating monster, the ‘Shanxiao.’ When I escaped, I ran into him—so I had no choice…”

Someone turned over Yan Xin’s corpse and pointed to the bloody hole in his chest. “There’s a wound!”

Soldiers leaned in. The wound didn’t look like it was made by a blade—it resembled something like a spike. One of them looked straight at Si Chen and asked flatly, “Where’s your hairpin?”

The hairpin—smooth and bone-white—had been a gift from Yan Xin. She wore it daily, and everyone recognized it. Seeing she couldn’t deny it, Si Chen burst out:

“Yes! Yes, I killed Brother Yan Xin! But it was an accident! He went mad—I had no other choice! What we should be asking is why he went mad in the first place!”

The soldiers exchanged glances, doubt spreading across their faces. Yan Xin had disappeared after going to Qingyu Gao Palace, and when he returned, he was a corpse. Could that beast—the ‘Shanxiao’—really have been their commander?

According to Yan Xin, Si Chen had been taken by Yu Ji Guard. Everyone else who was captured—Ah Chu, and many soldiers—had died. Why was she the only one unharmed?

“Tell us,” someone asked, “why are you the only one who came back alive?”

“I swam out through the sea!”

“Only you escaped, and the rest of our brothers had to die?”

A strong hand suddenly grabbed her wrist and held it up. “Everyone, look! I’ve noticed this before but kept quiet—she has the rooster brand! It’s Yu Ji Guard’s mark!”

Uproar.

Si Chen had always kept the brand hidden. Few had seen it. Now the accusations came pouring in.

“She’s one of Yu Ji Guard’s people!”

“If that old executioner let her go, she’s gotta be in league with him!”

Si Chen shouted, “Yan Xin was my brother! Why would I hurt him? And aren’t we supposed to be fighting Yu Ji Guard together? Don’t you all want revenge?”

Someone shouted, “Jinx!”

And suddenly, it was as if a tide broke loose.

“Curse bearer!”

“You brought misfortune—General Yan is dead because of you!”

Rocks and rotten fish flew through the air, striking Si Chen again and again. Blood streamed down her face. The crowd swallowed her in fury.

From the corner of her eye, she saw some soldiers silently gathering their bags, leaving the Lei Ze ship with dark, hopeless faces, disappearing into the rain and mist.

Despair swept over her. So this was the truth: many of them were too afraid of Yu Ji Guard to resist. And when the fear was too much to bear, they found a scapegoat to vent their rage on.

She had never been good with words. Never liked by others. And now that they hated her, no one stood up in her defense.

The rain fell like needles, stabbing into her skin. The sky was a dull, gray-black, and the world blurred like tarnished bronze.

Si Chen stumbled into the rain. The furious soldiers of Lei Ze Camp stared after her, countless small stones splashing into puddles behind her with sharp, stinging plinks, as if heaven itself were weeping.

Floating bridges, reed boats, pine-planked walkways—Si Chen watched these monotonous scenes pass as she wandered through the choking mists and wild rain. Her thoughts drifted, empty and directionless.

She had no idea where to go, yet her feet slowly led her to the pleasure boats. Boats drifted slowly past, behind jeweled curtains and carved beams. On one of them, she suddenly spotted a familiar figure—someone tall, with pursed lips, brows like a new moon, a face as handsome as polished jade—pouring medicine dregs over the railing.

It was none other than Fang Jingyu.

At the sight of him, Si Chen’s sorrow surged up like a flood. Taking a deep breath, she dove into the water and swam to the boat, climbing up the hull, calling out, “Your Highness! Your Highness!”

Not long ago, she had deeply resented Fang Jingyu and his entourage for coming uninvited to Yingzhou. If not for them, things might have gone on as they had been. Her brother, the soldiers of Lei Ze Camp—none of them would have died. But now, they seemed like the only lifeline she had left.

Exhausted, she clambered over the railing and collapsed, soaked, before Fang Jingyu. He looked slightly surprised. She struggled to her feet, her tears mixing with rain as she cried aloud, recounting how Yan Xin had gone mad and how she had killed him by accident. At last, she pounded the floor and wailed in grief.

Sorrow surged like an undercurrent in her heart. Outside, the rain whispered and hissed, slowly drowning their conversation in a veil of sound.

_____

By the next day, Lei Ze Camp was a wreck.

More and more soldiers deserted, vanishing into the mist and rain. Banners and ropes lay discarded. Those who remained sat numbly in the battered ship, the silence oppressive.

Yan Xin’s body had been placed in a reed boat. Sea-bloom flowers gathered by the soldiers surrounded him. Once unmoored, the little boat drifted on the current, carried away by sea and wind—this was Yingzhou’s water burial. After his passing, the men fell into deeper despair. The last spark of hope in their hearts had died with him.

The sailors sat like withered husks, but then through the fine rain came a lone figure. He wore a clean black tunic, a sword at his waist, eyes bright and unflinching. He walked up the gangplank into the Lei Ze ship, just as Chu Kuang had done years ago.

But this was not Chu Kuang. The soldiers recognized him at once—some cried in surprise, “Your Highness!” Others scowled and growled, “Fang Jingyu!”

They then noticed the figure following close behind him like a shadow—Si Chen. She kept her head down, lips pressed tight. Though her hair was now tied loosely, her eyes were still red-rimmed from crying.

Someone shouted, “Jinx! Why are you here?”

“Killing General Yan wasn’t enough? You want to get the rest of us killed too?!”

Si Chen clenched her fists and murmured like a mosquito, “I came to ask… if anyone is willing to go with me to avenge Yan Xin… to kill Yu Ji Guard.”

“Yu Jue Guard and General Yan are both dead. We’re just scattered grunts. You want us to fight Yu Ji Guard? That’s suicide!” someone barked. Another soldier turned his anger on Fang Jingyu:

“Since this bastard came to Yingzhou, everything’s gone to hell! It’s his fault our camp is falling apart! Let’s hand him over to Qingyu Gao Palace, maybe Yu Ji Guard will go easy on us!”

But Fang Jingyu stepped forward. The soldiers instinctively backed away, daunted by the authority he exuded as Emperor Bai’s son. He spoke coldly:

“You needn’t deliver me. Five days from now, I’ll go to Qingyu Gao Palace alone and challenge Yu Ji Guard.”

The words struck the crowd like thunder.

Alone? Marching into Qingyu Gao Palace to challenge one of the most powerful figures in the Xian Mountain Guards? It sounded like madness.

The soldiers stared at each other, speechless.

Then Fang Jingyu suddenly arched his brows and said, “But look at you. Not a scrap of courage among you! When Yu Jue Guard died, Yan Xin rose to take his place. Now that Yan Xin is gone, not a single one of you dares to stand up? And you call yourselves an army of justice?”

Shame crept over many faces, but someone jumped up in protest, shouting, “Don’t waste breath on him! Grab this loudmouth and send him straight to Yu Ji Guard!”

Fang Jingyu’s voice cut through the commotion:

“Even if you hand me over, you’ll always be the oppressed. Yu Ji Guard won’t give you fine clothes or warm meals. If you don’t rise up, the rain in Yingzhou will never stop!”

He drew the Hanguang sword. Its blade shone like stars and sun, dazzling even through the storm, as though it could cleave the sky. Holding the sword aloft, he shouted:

“Come on! If any of you have the guts to fight me, I’ll go to Yu Ji Guard myself if you can beat me!”

In the pouring rain, he stood like a lion ready to strike. The soldiers of Lei Ze Camp were overwhelmed by his spirit. In this youth, they saw a glimmer of Emperor Bai from a century ago.

A large tent was soon pitched on the deck, covered in oiled cloth with lanterns lit inside. The duel began. Fang Jingyu gripped Hanguang, calm and poised. Soldiers entered one by one, each wary of this prince, unsure what trick he might pull.

Outside, soldiers whispered to each other, “Let’s take turns roughing him up, break his arms and legs, tie him up, and toss him to Yu Ji Guard!”

But once inside the tent, facing Fang Jingyu and his gleaming sword, their bravado vanished like chickens facing a hawk.

A massive man known as “Flagpole” stepped in—long limbs, thick arms, a brute of a man. Next to him, Fang Jingyu looked like a reed. Flagpole had long resented how this prince was always the center of attention, so now he shouted,

“You little brat! Let me show you some pain!”

He charged with a broadsword, slashing in wild arcs. Fang Jingyu met his attacks easily, parrying each one without breaking a sweat.

Sweat beaded on Flagpole’s brow. Fang Jingyu walked as if through a garden, calm and unhurried. “With strength like yours, you should be fighting Yu Ji Guard, not working as his porter. What a waste.”

“So what? I only fight battles I know I can win!” Flagpole snapped.

“Victory’s not given. You fight for it. If you never try, how will you know if you’re the egg or the stone?” Fang Jingyu replied coolly.

Shamed, Flagpole flushed red with anger. His attacks failed, so he suddenly slipped, pretending to fall while secretly reaching for a throwing spear.

But Fang Jingyu glanced at him and said, “That kind of dirty trick? Save it for Yu Ji Guard.” Then he kicked Flagpole hard in the groin.

Flagpole shot up with a scream, doubled over in pain. Fang Jingyu smiled faintly. “You’re a sly one, sure, but still not half as crafty as my old laborer.”

Flagpole didn’t dare stay another moment. Though he was known for brute strength, now he fled like a whipped dog, leaving the soldiers stunned.

Another man stepped forward and shouted, “Since the prince is so unjust, don’t blame us for being cruel!”

He grabbed a brazier stand and hurled the burning coals at Fang Jingyu.

“Idiot! You’ll set the ship on fire!” someone cried.

But the brazier was already flying toward Fang Jingyu. The red-hot coals blazed in the air. Yet Fang Jingyu moved not a muscle. In a flash, he caught the brazier on his blade and twisted, scattering the coals into harmless ash.

“Amazing swordwork!”

Even the soldiers who’d meant to oppose him now shouted in admiration. Only now did they begin to see this youth not as a pretty-faced puppet—but as a true force to be reckoned with.

Amidst the cheers, another armored soldier stepped from the crowd. Dressed in iron-linked sleeves and heavy gear, he leveled a white-wax spear at Fang Jingyu and charged.

Fang Jingyu remained composed. As the soldier lunged, he sidestepped like a butterfly seeking nectar, his sword flashing in a blur of speed and grace. In the blink of an eye, the soldier’s armor shattered into fragments. His sword was swift, deft, and deadly—his technique, astonishing. The crowd roared again: “Bravo!”

Si Chen stood at the side, dazed by the scene. It was as though Fang Jingyu had set their blood alight. At some point, she couldn’t tell when, the light of battle had rekindled in the soldiers’ eyes. Perhaps this scene had once played out long ago, in a time before.

Fang Jingyu’s breath never faltered, steady as a mountain. He beckoned to the others:

“It’s getting late. Come at me together.”

The audacity! The soldiers, provoked, charged with renewed vigor. Shadows lunged from all directions, but Fang Jingyu lowered his stance and weaved between them. His sword flashed like liquid silver, sweeping through the crowd. His techniques shifted between direct and deceptive, throwing the soldiers off-guard. Inside the limited space of the tent, they struck each other more than him, colliding like headless flies.

Seizing his chance, Fang Jingyu darted before one man, parrying with a twist of his blade. “Shang Mazi, your stance is unstable. Practice your horse stance daily from now on.”

Then he turned another aside. “Fei Jiang, you’re always losing your bearings. Drill the wedge and crescent formations till you know them by heart.”

“Zhang Guai Jiao, your movements are unsteady. Start stone-lifting exercises tomorrow.”

He named them one by one, leaving them speechless. He had memorized the names of hundreds in the camp, and observed all their flaws during training. The tent descended into chaos. When it was over, soldiers lay sprawled across the floor, panting hard. The young man in black stood tall and unmoved, like a crane among chickens.

Only now did they realize Fang Jingyu’s famed talent was no boast. Calm as ever, he said:

“You’ve now seen what I can do. In five days, I will go seek Yu Ji Guard. I don’t fear death—and I won’t lose.”

The soldiers were silent, but now looked at him with newfound respect. Fang Jingyu raised his voice:

“If any of you wish to follow me to Guixu, come with me!”

His voice was firm and resolute, shaking their hearts. Many leapt to their feet and looked to him as if glimpsing the youth who once wore dragon-armored robes and commanded a thousand miles with his will. They felt that under his banner, they might truly be invincible.

Si Chen stared, entranced. The rain outside fell like war drums. Then Fang Jingyu turned to her, gesturing politely.

“Your Highness, what… do you mean by this?” she asked, confused.

Fang Jingyu’s lips curled in a faint smile. “Miss Si, aren’t you one of Lei Ze Camp too? I’ve yet to receive your instruction.”

Si Chen was stunned. Her heart ached—she understood. This was his way of asking the others to acknowledge her as one of their own. She pulled out her Jade Bamboo Sprouts—a pair of iron gauntlets she had long polished and worn with care—and put them on.

Outside, lightning tore through the clouds, illuminating the tent in a ghostly white. Thunder rolled like an ocean storm, shaking their very souls. The two squared off. According to custom, they now had to declare themselves. Fang Jingyu called out:

“I, though son of Emperor Bai and heir to a tyrant, wish to set out once more beyond the Five Immortal Peaks to find a way to end wind and snow. Miss Si, please enlighten me.”

Something flared in her chest. Si Chen answered loudly:

“I, though daughter of Yu Ji Guard, swear to slay that wretched old villain and restore peace to Yingzhou—Your Highness, please enlighten me!”

The next moment, they launched into combat.

It was a fierce and thrilling bout. Outside, lightning flashed and sea waves roared. Inside, Hanguang glimmered and the Jade Bamboo Sprouts struck like snow flurries. Though just a duel between two youths, it stirred memories of heroic days past. They fought with smiles—sharp as eagles, fierce as tigers.

Fang Jingyu flowed through seven elegant sword forms—An Inch of Gold, Frost Across the Courtyard, Rainbow Over the River—linked seamlessly. Though Si Chen knew no named styles, she remembered every move Yu Jue Guard had taught her and moved with a raw, savage power.

The soldiers watched in awe, forgetting even her shocking admission that she was Yu Ji Guard’s daughter. They forgot this was a dangerous duel.

“Miss Si,” Fang Jingyu said, feinting back under her flurry of strikes, “if I win, will you come to Guixu with me?”

Si Chen burst into laughter—bright, free laughter for the first time in her life.

“Yingzhou’s waiting for me to save it! Beat me first, Your Highness!”

They fought fiercely. Si Chen soon realized Fang Jingyu was a difficult opponent. His eyes would flick in the wrong direction just before a strike, constantly throwing her off. So she closed her eyes and relied on her ears to track his sword.

She moved with the rhythm of the ship beneath her feet and lunged. Having grown up on the sea, she knew waves and balance better than anyone. In naval battle, Fang Jingyu was still a novice. Yet he moved with calm control, sword in one hand, scabbard in the other, guarding perfectly.

She tried blinding him with firelight off her gauntlets—but he suddenly threw Hanguang high into the air and charged her.

She gasped. Was he testing her fists now? But then he snatched a sword from a nearby soldier’s waist mid-leap, catching Hanguang in a spinning arc. It had been a trick—he caught her off-guard.

Thunder rolled, rain pounded the tent, and sword light clashed with clawed strikes. In that instant, it was over. Si Chen had caught Hanguang’s tip in her gauntlet, and her other claw hovered at Fang Jingyu’s heart, needing only one more push to pierce skin.

The crowd gaped, frozen in silence.

Si Chen trembled—she knew Fang Jingyu had held back on the final blow.

“Good!”

Suddenly, a roar of applause erupted, loud enough to shake the tent. The soldiers surged forward, surrounding Si Chen. She looked around in disbelief. The disdain in their eyes was gone. Someone called out:

“Girl’s got skills! You learn that from Yu Jue Guard herself?”

Another laughed, “If she’s Yu Ji Guard’s daughter, she must be born with it!”

Even those who had scorned her before now stood silent and ashamed. As her gaze swept over them, some quietly knelt and kowtowed in apology.

Fang Jingyu sheathed his sword, still calm, but his tone gentler now. “Congratulations, Miss Si.”

“But you clearly…”

He interrupted her. “I’m just a passerby. Compared to me, it’s those of Lei Ze Camp who should lead.”

Only then did she understand his intent, and her heart grew heavy.

“I never wanted to be the leader…”

“Lei Ze Camp still needs someone to carry the torch. I heard Yu Jue Guard wanted to rekindle the fire in Yingzhou—to bring warmth and light to this place. To do that, you first need kindling. But a single log won’t burn long. You need many people to throw themselves into the fire—willing to turn to ash so the flame survives. If one dies, another must rise. When the firewood is spent, the spark must carry on. That’s what it means to pass the fire after the fuel is gone.”

As he spoke, he smiled faintly—like moonlight on water.

“In five days, I’ll be waiting at Qingyu Gao Palace. When the time comes, I’ll make sure the rain over Yingzhou finally clears.”

The soldiers of Lei Ze Camp slowly rose to their feet. Without realizing it, they had formed neat rows, silently watching the young man in black push open the tent and walk into the distance.

He had come in the storm and left in the rain—but now, the sky behind him glowed faintly with dawn. A crack of light split the black clouds. Snow-pale rays fell upon him, and all who watched were reminded of that young emperor from a century past—clad in armor, charging into battle.

The silhouette was the same—like the first light of morning, dazzling white.