HCAW 70

Chapter 70: The Name Lives On After the Man Is Gone

A murky haze cloaked the sun; fine rain fell in veils.

On the pleasure boat’s upper deck, the group sat around a wooden table, propping their chins in thought.

Fang Jingyu sat at the center, arms crossed and eyes closed, calm as a stone statue.

Earlier, he had told them of his plan to head to Qingyu Gao Palace in five days to challenge Yu Ji Guard. He ended with, “I will not sit and await death. That day, I will face Yu Ji Guard and settle it once and for all.”

As expected, the suggestion was met with fierce objections from several people—especially from the “Mule.” He pleaded bitterly, “Your Highness, you don’t know the hardship I’ve endured. I’ve followed the ancestral order of the Bai Huan Guard and risked everything to protect you all the way here—how can I just stand by and watch you march to your death?” Zheng Deli and Xiao Jiao nodded in agreement beside him.

But Fang Jingyu replied calmly, “If the sacrifice of one life can restore Yingzhou’s rebel army, then all I’ve done is worth it. Being Emperor Bai’s son is nothing but a title. You’d rather I march like him into battle—not flee to Guixu like a deserter, wouldn’t you?”

He swept his gaze across the room, exuding fierce authority. “If you’re so hung up on my title as Emperor Bai’s heir, then I’ll hand it over to you. From now on, let that name fly under your banner. Even if I die, you must press on to Guixu. I don’t want peace just for myself—I want no more wars between Xian Moutains.”

His voice echoed within the pleasure boat, striking deep into everyone’s heart. After a long silence, Zheng Deli and Xiao Jiao looked at him and breathed a sigh of relief, their eyes seeming to say: This is the Fang Jingyu we know.

Fang Jingyu closed his eyes again. “Besides, Emperor Bai always turned crisis into fortune, made dead wood bloom. Don’t worry—I have a contingency.”

At last, the “Mule” relented. He sighed deeply and nodded with a bitter smile. Fang Jingyu held out his hand. The others glanced at one another, then reached out too. Their fingers intertwined like a stack of kindling.

____

If one was to confront the Xian Mountain Guards, preparations were vital. And the only thing that could rival a Xian Moutain Guard—was another Xian Moutain Guard.

Fang Jingyu understood this well. So as soon as he left the pleasure boat, he turned toward the Fenglin Ship.

Upon boarding, he saw the tiger-hooded girl seated in a redwood chair, engrossed in fiddling with a tricky lock-puzzle. She disassembled and reassembled it with great delight, looking uncharacteristically childish.

Fang Jingyu cleared his throat. “Master Ruyi Guard.”

Ruyi Guard sprang up immediately, hiding the puzzle behind her back. Flustered at seeing him, she muttered, “Your Maj—no, Your Highness, what brings you here in person?” Then she puffed up with irritation. “If it’s to ask me to go kill Yu Ji Guard—forget it! No discussion!”

Fang Jingyu replied expressionlessly, “I know you’re unwilling, and I won’t force you. I came to ask if the wager we made still stands.”

Ruyi Guard immediately understood—he meant the promise made when he first visited the Fenglin Ship: that if he could draw the Daqu bow, she would gift him Jin Pugu arrows. She answered readily, “If Your Highness wishes to try, of course I won’t refuse.”

She handed him the massive bow. Fang Jingyu drew a deep breath and pulled with all his strength—but the string didn’t budge. He gritted his teeth and used every ounce of effort to move it just a few inches. Before long, his face flushed red and his breath grew ragged, as if burdened by a thousand pounds.

Ruyi Guard chuckled on the side. “Your Highness, if it’s too much, don’t force it.”

But Fang Jingyu refused to yield. Sweat beaded on his brow; the flesh on his fingers tore from the strain, and blood trickled down like snakes. His teeth ground audibly. The old servant winced. “Oh heavens! All this effort—you’ll ruin your health!” Even Ruyi Guard began to lose her amusement.

It was too much. Fang Jingyu felt as though he were wrestling a rampaging beast. The Vipashiyin Blade, the Daqu Bow—every weapon of the Xian Moutain Guards demanded more than any ordinary man could give. Between him and them lay a chasm.

But so what? The one who would journey past Xian Moutains and reach Guixu wasn’t any of the mighty Xian Moutain Guards—it was him, weak as an ant. Even if the burden broke him, he would bear it.

He was the future of Xian Moutains, the last hope protected by countless lives—he could not afford to disappoint them!

With a low roar, Fang Jingyu summoned every drop of strength. The string slowly pulled back. Veins bulged on his arms, his skin turned a scorching red. Ruyi Guard heard a hideous tearing sound—flesh ripping. Blood sprayed, and Fang Jingyu’s body bristled with exposed iron-like bones, like a spiked mace.

She stood in shock. He had drawn the bow fully into a perfect arc, his arms like cast iron. Despite the agony, he did not flinch.

“Is this enough?” Fang Jingyu asked. Sweat lined his brow, but his gaze remained tranquil.

“E-enough,” Ruyi Guard stammered, speechless.

She instructed the old woman to open an enamel box, undo the bloodlock, and took Jin Pugu arrows, which she handed to Fang Jingyu. Hands on her hips, she scolded, “You really are like Emperor Bai—so reckless with your life!”

Fang Jingyu, panting, took the arrows. He thought to himself: in this world, everyone but him had seen Emperor Bai—yet all claimed to know what that young emperor looked like, all insisting he was just the same.

“I finally understand why he swore to follow the late emperor to the death. Compared to a ruler, Emperor Bai was more like a vanguard who braved dangers ahead. Precisely because of his courage and willingness to lead from the front, everyone in the past willingly followed under his banner,” said the Yu Yi Guard with a sigh.

“He?”

Her expression dimmed. “I mean Chu Kuang’s master. He’s long passed. You wouldn’t know him.”

This girl clearly had never met Chu Kuang—so why was she talking about his master? Fang Jingyu was confused, but seeing her lips pressed tightly, clearly unwilling to elaborate, he didn’t press further.

Fang Jingyu accepted the Jin Pugu arrows and asked, “Does the Yu Yi Guard really not wish to help me deal with the Yu Ji Guard?”

The maid hesitated, stared at his wounds for a long while, then smiled. “I swore never to draw a bow again in this life. But anything outside archery—Your Highness need only ask.”

Fang Jingyu thanked her and left. As he exited the Fenglin ship, he looked back to see endless drizzle. The maid stood by the porthole, red tiger-head hat, snow-pale face—like a painting. She gazed at him from afar, eyes deep, as if she were looking at someone who had already died long ago.

_______

Back on the pleasure boat, just as Fang Jingyu set down the Jin Pugu arrows, he ran into Zheng Deli, who had come to fetch some medicine. Seeing Fang Jingyu covered in bloody wounds, Zheng Deli turned pale and exclaimed, “Jingyu, what happened to you this time?”

Fang Jingyu tore off a sleeve to bind the wound, face calm. “Pulled too hard trying to draw the bow while asking the Ruyi Guard for the arrows—accidentally forced the iron bones to break through.”

Zheng Deli shivered. “Take better care of yourself! It’s hard enough decocting for two—now I’ve got to make medicine for you too? You think I’m a doctor now?”

Though he grumbled, he quickly brought out white mulberry thread, threaded a needle, and stitched Fang Jingyu’s wounds. He then applied healing ointment, wrapped them in fine cloth, and told him sternly to rest well—if he didn’t want to turn into a human porcupine before even fighting the Yu Ji Guard.

After the bandaging, Fang Jingyu sighed in relief. Suddenly remembering he hadn’t visited Chu Kuang in a while, he headed to the cabin.

As soon as he entered, a figure lunged at him, slamming him hard into the wall.

Startled, Fang Jingyu was about to counter when he recognized the attacker—it was Chu Kuang. Just the day before, he had looked barely alive, but now he forced himself up despite his injuries. Fang Jingyu saw the wound on his chest had split open again, his thin hemp shirt stained red with blood.

“You’re insane!” Chu Kuang gritted his teeth. “You’re going to face the Yu Ji Guard in five days? That’s suicide!”

He had overheard the discussion through the cabin walls. Fang Jingyu sighed. “Just focus on healing. I know what I’m doing.”

“You know shit! You’ve only met the Yu Ji Guard a few times. You don’t know how terrifying that old bastard is!” Chu Kuang roared. He tore open his collar to reveal jagged scars. One wound stretched from his left shoulder to his right abdomen, as if he’d almost been split in two. “I’ve fought him many times, each time barely surviving. Now, if you face him, you’ll be dead for sure!”

Fang Jingyu remained unmoved. “I’ve already announced it. Like water spilled—it can’t be taken back.”

“So let it spill! Why take it back? Since you won’t, then I’ll break your legs myself and stop you from going!” Chu Kuang suddenly sneered and kicked at Fang Jingyu’s knee.

But Fang Jingyu had anticipated the move—especially from someone still recovering. He blocked it, grabbed Chu Kuang’s leg, and twisted, slamming him back onto the bed. Chu Kuang let out a muffled grunt as fresh blood seeped from his wounds, his face paling.

Fang Jingyu looked down at him, calm. “Laborer Chu, stop exhausting yourself. Why be so worked up? You’re just a hired hand, I’m only your temporary master. If I die, just follow Deli and Xiao Jiao and leave.”

“You think I survived this long for who!?” Chu Kuang suddenly roared. Fang Jingyu’s heart jolted, stunned. He saw tearful eyes brimming with bitter pain.

But Chu Kuang seemed shocked by his own outburst too. He clutched his head, sweating from the pain, yet still stubborn.

“Fang Jingyu… if you die, then everything I’ve done until now will have been for nothing. You’re not allowed to die… not allowed!”

“You don’t need to care this much.”

Fang Jingyu said, but it felt like being sawed open with a dull knife—his heart bled. Chu Kuang kept struggling like a stray dog, baring fangs to keep him close. But Fang Jingyu reached out and slowly pressed a hand to his throat.

Chu Kuang’s eyes widened in shock, breath strangled, slipping into delirium.

Fang Jingyu’s face was calm, hand unmoving. “You’re injured. Struggling will only worsen it. Sleep, Laborer Chu.”

Chu Kuang’s eyes dimmed, limbs losing strength. He clawed weakly at Fang Jingyu’s arm.

“You bastard… Fang Jingyu… you won’t… leave me…”

He gasped like a drowning man, flailing powerlessly, helpless against Fang Jingyu. Finally, he passed out, collapsing onto the bed, hair disheveled, pale and gaunt like a torn scrap of paper. Fang Jingyu gently laid him down, reapplied medicine, wrapped his chest, fixed his collar, then fetched a length of chain to shackle his wrist—just to keep him from running around while wounded.

After all that, Fang Jingyu stood at the bedside and shut his eyes. A dull ache pulsed in his chest, but he had already resolved to face death without fear.

The sunset dimmed. The sun looked like wet red paper pressed against the window. In that fading light, Yuzhou’s pleasure boats, reed boats, floating boats—everything turned into silhouettes, layer upon layer of shadow. Fang Jingyu’s figure was among them, yet singularly cold and alone.

“Sleep, Chu Kuang.”

He said softly.

“When you wake, though I may be gone… Yuzhou will already have seen the clouds part and the sun rise.”