HCAW 94

Chapter 94: Descent of the Divine Maiden

In a winding alley under a row of lanterns stood a line of armored guards—fierce-faced and tiger-eyed, clutching iron halberds, forming a screen around a richly dressed, plump man. That fat man stood proud and haughty, arms crossed, chin raised, his beady eyes sweeping toward the two men before him as he retorted:

“And who are you two, daring to throw your weight around in front of this prince?”

Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang, still stunned by his earlier claim, were speechless. This fat man not only shared the same name as Fang Jingyu but also bore the imperial surname Ji, just like Emperor Bai—clearly a son of nobility, born to wealth and power.

But if he called himself Emperor Bai’s son, then who was Fang Jingyu? Chu Kuang, alarmed, grabbed Fang Jingyu and whispered:

“What’s going on—how can there be two sons of Emperor Bai? Which of you is the real one? Did I back the wrong man all this time?”

Fang Jingyu, coming to his senses, growled back, “You’re asking me? Who should I ask then! I’d like to know whether the Langgan Guard picked up the wrong baby—or maybe the imperial family just spread their seeds too far and I’ve got a long-lost brother hiding in Daiyu these past twenty years!”

Chu Kuang, still reeling, muttered, “Your Highness, look on the bright side. You’re the true-born heir of the dragon throne. This guy must be an impostor using your name.”

Fang Jingyu nodded calmly. “That’s what I think too. I only recognize Minsheng as my brother. Any other pig-faced brothers—I want nothing to do with.”

Chu Kuang blushed at that, quickly looking away. He ground his teeth in silence—recognize, huh? After all they’d done, calling each other brothers now was truly shameless.

The Ji-surnamed fat man saw them whispering and ignoring him and flew into a rage. “You two little wretches, ruining my business and acting like I’m not even here—guards, seize them and hang them on the stone poles too!”

At his order, a tide of guards in rhino-hide armor surged forward, blades drawn, surrounding them tightly. Fang Jingyu’s expression darkened; he reached for the wooden sword at his waist.

But Chu Kuang was faster. As the guards approached, he suddenly hooked a leg behind one man’s knee and shoved hard. The guard yelped and fell backward. Chu Kuang seized the man’s belt sash like a whip, spun his arm in a wide arc, and swept down several others around him.

As more rushed in, he darted forward and snatched two swords from nearby guards. In a flash, sword-light streaked skyward, slicing the air like a tiger’s roar. Fang Jingyu gaped as dust flew and bodies dropped—Chu Kuang had cut down wave after wave in moments, his swordplay elegant and fluid.

Every move bore the mark of Fang family style swordsmanship. Fang Jingyu, tongue-tied, finally stammered:

“You…”

Chu Kuang held a blade across Fang Jingyu’s chest, grinning wickedly like a snarling wolf. “What about me? Too dashing, left you dazed? Don’t worry—there’s only me at your side now, but I’ve played the bodyguard role plenty of times. Ten more of them, and I’d still win!”

Fatty Ji, shocked by Chu Kuang’s skill and flawless swordsmanship, knew at once he’d met a formidable opponent. Then he glimpsed the lifted edge of Chu Kuang’s hat—beneath it, a faint blood-red twin pupil glimmered.

Double pupils—a rare omen. In legend, such people were either saints or tyrants, bringers of salvation or disaster. The Gu Bi Guard had warned him: if any strange beings were spotted, report them at once to protect Daiyu’s peace.

Seeing Chu Kuang now, alarm bells rang in Fatty Ji’s mind. These two were too suspicious. He made up his mind—capture them both and question them later. He roared:

“Useless fools! They’re just two men—seize them immediately!”

At his command, another wave of soldiers surged in from every alleyway. Shoulder to shoulder, armed to the teeth. Fang Jingyu knew full well—even the strongest fists can’t beat a crowd. He patted Chu Kuang’s shoulder and whispered, “Let’s not get tangled with them. Grab the boy and slip away.”

Chu Kuang cursed, “Easy for you to say! We don’t have wings—how are we flying out of here?”

Fang Jingyu snapped, “Didn’t you just say you could take ten more of them?”

But jokes aside, the guards now drew sabers in front and readied crossbows in the back, forming an airtight encirclement. Sweat beaded on Fang Jingyu’s brow—this was going to be brutal. Chu Kuang leapt forward, sword flashing like a dragon, carving a gap in the crowd. He shouted, “Your Highness, run!”

Fang Jingyu scooped up the bleeding boy from the ground. As the guards doubled over from Chu Kuang’s blows, he stepped on their backs and charged forward. Glancing back, he saw Chu Kuang nearly swallowed by the tide of bodies. Panic seized him—he stretched his hand back desperately.

“If you’re not leaving, I’m not leaving! If I abandon you, what right do I have to call myself your lord? We live or die together!”

Chu Kuang’s eyes trembled—then he laughed. “Idiot. You say that like we’re really about to die.”

With that, he gripped both swords. Light exploded from the blades, arcs of energy crisscrossing. His left hand wielded the Langgan Guard’s Golden Thread technique, his right, the Silver Mask’s deadly form—each hand like a master harpist, playing a duet of slaughter. Wherever the blades passed, bodies fell in two.

Fang Jingyu stood transfixed—until he noticed more and more cuts appearing on Chu Kuang’s body, blood soaking through his sleeves. He’s still not recovered… we’ve barely left Yuanqiao, and he’s fighting like this…

When a guard lunged with his sword, Fang Jingyu could no longer stand aside. He sprang forward, seized the man’s wrist, snatched his iron sword, and slashed down three foes. The two moved in sync, backs to each other, fighting in seamless rhythm.

The battle was at its fiercest when a clear voice rang out from behind:

“Enough—all of you, stop!”

The voice was crisp and delicate, like chimes in the wind—it was clearly a young girl.

Everyone looked up, stunned. A grand palanquin had stopped at the mouth of the alley. Its frame was carved with birds and beasts, almost lifelike. A glossy veil draped over the top, with embroidered peach patterns on shimmering satin.

A guard exclaimed, “The Divine Maiden is here!”

Divine Maiden? Fang Jingyu’s ears perked up in surprise. He saw Fatty Ji’s face go pale. He barked at the others, “You blind fools! The Divine Maiden is here—kneel, now!”

In an instant, all the guards dropped to their knees—but the murmuring didn’t stop.

Someone whispered, “Hey, brothers, I’m new here—who’s that, exactly?”

“Shhh! That’s the Divine Maiden of the Da Yuan Dao! She came to Daiyu early last month and blessed Prince Ji Jingyu. She has divine powers—don’t do anything reckless.”

“I see, but… what does she look like?” someone else whispered. Apparently few had ever seen her face. One guard snapped, “Shut up, you mutt. You think someone like you deserves to look upon the Divine Maiden? Watch your mouth!”

In front of the palanquin, even the guards who had just drawn their weapons now knelt in respect. The whispers didn’t stop, but the reverence was palpable. Fang Jingyu noticed the peach pattern and guessed at the woman’s identity. Since the Da Yuan Dao was the state religion here, and she was called the Divine Maiden, she must be a key figure in the sect.

The curtain of the palanquin stirred, revealing a faint silhouette—graceful, delicate. Tassels swayed in the wind, releasing a scent of wormwood and pepper. From behind the veil, the Divine Maiden spoke:

“What’s going on here? Why all this noise?”

Fatty Ji visibly tensed and said nothing. A guard knelt and reported, “Forgive us, Divine Maiden! Prince Ji was trying to apprehend two criminals. Once they’re caught, we’ll be gone.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the girl’s voice said. “I know them. Let them come into my palanquin.”

Everyone was stunned. The Divine Maiden stood above them all—how did she know these two strange men? Fatty Ji was also dumbfounded. After a pause, he stammered:

“You… you know them?”

“Correct. Look closely at their cloaks—the peach pattern is the sacred seal of the Holy Sect. These two are scouts dispatched by the Holy Sect to Yuanqiao, both highly capable. Now that they’ve returned, they’ve accomplished a great deed.” The girl declared proudly, then barked a command with no room for argument:

“Stand down, all of you—let them come into my palanquin!”

With the Divine Maiden speaking, no one dared block their path. The sea of people parted, opening a way for them. Fang Jingyu, full of doubt, still recognized the familiar voice. Just then, the curtain lifted slightly, revealing a bright, charming face.

Because all present were kneeling with heads down, few caught a clear look at the smile on that face. It was a girl just past puberty, wearing six layers of multicolored robes, a mask shaped like a fire serpent, and feathered decorations in all hues. Her cheeks were white as lychees, and her eyes black and gleaming like longans.

Who else could it be but Xiao Jiao?

Fang Jingyu stood stunned for a moment before trembling, “X… Xiao Jiao? What are you doing here?”

“Watch your tongue, you tight-lipped gourd! What nonsense are you spouting—what chili pepper or Sichuan pepper? I don’t know any such thing!”

花椒 (huājiāo) = Sichuan pepper 辣椒 (làjiāo) = chili pepper

Xiao Jiao lifted her chin, placed her hands on her hips, and shouted with an air of superiority:

”—Call me Divine Maiden!”

———

How things came to this state… begins roughly one month ago.

One day, about a month prior, Xiao Jiao had felt as if her limbs were filled with lead, her body sinking deeper and deeper into a mire. Shadowy claws crawled over her in the dark. She struggled in terror and suddenly awoke to find herself surrounded by pitch black. It had all been a nightmare. The air reeked of mildew, seawater, and sweat. Blinking her eyes, she realized she was lying beneath a splintered wagon floor.

She was soaked and covered in sand, every inch of her body aching. She remembered the last moment before losing consciousness: a monstrous wave roaring like a dragon, tearing her away from everyone else. Now she’d apparently washed ashore… but somehow, she’d been carried into a cart.

“Y-you’re awake?”

A timid voice came from nearby. Xiao Jiao turned her head and saw a pair of eyes glowing in the dark like a cat’s. But it wasn’t just one pair—seven or eight pairs stared at her. Forcing herself upright, she saw a group of women watching her anxiously.

“Where… is this?” Xiao Jiao asked hoarsely.

“A wagon transporting… slaves.”

“Slaves?” Xiao Jiao was horrified. “I’m not a slave—I’m just a traveler from the sea! How did I end up here?”

After some whispered talk with the women, she learned they were now in Daiyu. Most were refugees from Yuanqiao or Fanghu, caught and sold by human traffickers. Xiao Jiao had apparently been found unconscious after the storm, picked up by a trafficker while still unconscious, and loaded into the wagon.

She looked down—her hands and feet were tied with hemp rope. Still weak from her ordeal, she had no strength to resist.

“Where are we being taken?”

“Who knows. Some unlucky ones end up as human sacrifices. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get to serve in a wealthy house.”

Xiao Jiao was filled with dread. The jolting cart made her heart lurch with every bump. Eventually, it stopped. The women were driven down and lined up in a courtyard.

The yard was barren. In the center stood a sacrificial post. The women were tied to it like livestock. The place had fine architecture—stone paths, willows, painted beams and red pillars, all suggesting great wealth.

A row of guards stood on either side. At the center was a short, fat man in purple official robes and a jade cap. After the trafficker exchanged words with a steward and bowed low, the steward turned and struck the ground with a staff:

“Prince Ji, the women have arrived.”

Fatty Ji nodded in satisfaction. The steward then turned to the women, tapping the staff and barking:

“Kneel and raise your faces for His Highness to inspect!”

Prince? Xiao Jiao was confused, but she could tell this Ji man had clout. In her life, only two people had ever been called “Your Highness”—and one of them was Fang Jingyu.

Frightened by the staff, the women all knelt. Xiao Jiao resisted but was forced down by the trafficker. The steward muttered, “Ungrateful wretches—do you even realize whose presence you’re in? The prince himself has graced this place—this is the luck of three lifetimes!”

Fatty Ji’s beady eyes darted between faces like an abacus. He said lewdly, “The pretty ones will become my concubines. The ugly ones—let them be sacrificed!”

He inspected them one by one, sorting them accordingly. Xiao Jiao barked and snapped like a wild dog, biting back at the traffickers who didn’t dare beat her without orders. When Fatty Ji approached, he used a green jade cane shaped like a bird’s head to lift her chin and said, “This one’s nice enough to eat—but that mouth is filthy, clearly uncivilized.”

Xiao Jiao spat, “Horse-faced bastard! You’re lucky I’m even speaking to you. Untie me, and I’ll give you a few slaps to remember me by!”

Her curses flew like arrows. Disgusted, the prince turned her face away with his cane and said, “Such a foul-mouthed shrew—I don’t need that in my house. Sacrifice her!”

With that, servants rolled her up in a straw mat, tied her tight, and hoisted her onto their shoulders. She kicked and screamed like a writhing white maggot, but soon was thrown into a pit. Inside, some of the same women who had arrived with her huddled in fear.

What shocked her most was that the pit crawled with monstrous “walking meat”—their limbs limp like sludge, their faces covered in six or seven eyes. They chittered and hissed like demons.

Xiao Jiao froze in terror. They… looked just like the leader of the Da Yuan Dao she’d seen in Milu Village!

Soon, Fatty Ji swaggered over, hands behind his back. His servants placed a deerskin chair atop brocade cushions, and he sat down to watch like it was a show.

“These things below are Holy Envoys of the Da Yuan Dao,” he said, waving imperiously. “Your blood and flesh will be offered to them for favor. This is your sacred destiny—pull yourselves together!”

From this, Xiao Jiao realized Daiyu’s views on the Da Yuan Dao were drastically different from Penglai’s. Some women knelt and chanted “blessings from the Great Immortal,” but most were shivering in dread. Bones littered the pit—a grim warning. The walking meats had lost all reason, turned into man-eaters.

Suddenly, one lunged forward and bit a woman’s arm off. Blood sprayed everywhere. The others shrieked and fled in panic. Fatty Ji clapped in delight as if watching theater.

Xiao Jiao could take no more. She shouted:

“Stop it right now!”

And miraculously, the walking meats froze. They looked at one another, confused. One whispered:

“Divine Maiden…”

Then, they crawled toward Xiao Jiao and bowed with reverence, crying out:

“Divine Maiden! Divine Maiden!”

The women in the pit and the prince above were dumbfounded. He had seen countless deaths and knew well how savage these creatures were. The Gu Bi Guard had told him once—there was a tribe of monks in Yuanqiao, descended from the Great Immortal Yonghe. Consuming their flesh granted divine power—but at great cost. So he’d only fed them to his “walking meat” soldiers instead.

Those who ate monk flesh grew stronger—but more deranged, losing all humanity. If he didn’t regularly feed them live prey to drain their bloodlust, they became uncontrollable.

Today was supposed to be like any other—sacrifice the ones he didn’t want. But this wild girl had tamed the walking meat with a single command.

No. He suddenly stood, staring fixedly at Xiao Jiao’s face. The distorted cries of the walking meats echoed around him. Only now did he hear clearly: they were shouting “Divine Maiden.”

In the sunlight, that crude, savage girl stood hands on hips, her eyes shining black and bright—two long nails pinning him in place. Sweat burst from his face. His body shrank like lard under the sun, while the girl in the pit shone like a star among all others, her presence overwhelming his own.

Finally, the prince’s knees buckled, and he knelt. His lips trembled, and at last he joined the chorus, crying out with them:

“Divine Maiden—Divine Maiden!”