HCAW 96

Chapter 96: Empty Merit, Unjust Honor

The days as royal guards were quiet. Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang each carried a lamb’s shoulder blade as their token of duty, leisurely patrolling twenty li a day. Along the way, they cooked millet porridge and roasted meat, and even used the time to thoroughly scout every corner of the royal city. Yet the closer they got to the gate to Guixu, the tighter the security became—they couldn’t get near.

In their spare time, they visited temples to gather information, still searching for Zheng Deli and the other Yingzhou soldiers, who had yet to reappear. Now that Xiao Jiao held the authority of the Divine Maiden, she had manpower at her disposal. She sent people to look for their remaining companions, and after a while, they managed to recover several travel satchels from fishermen along the shore.

Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang frantically opened the retrieved bags to find the blood vials they’d collected were miraculously intact. Likely due to the way they had packed them with rags and cotton, the vials had survived the ocean’s tossing. Chu Kuang let out a deep breath.

“Thank heavens. We still have our capital for getting through the gate.”

They counted the vials again. They now had blood from the Yu Ji Guard, Ruyi Guard, Mohe Guard, Yu Jue Guard, and Yu Yin Guard—half the amount required to unlock the Guixu gate. Fang Jingyu frowned.

“Leaving aside the other Xian Mountain Guards of the Three Peaks… the Tianfu Guard is practically a mythical figure. No one but Emperor Bai has ever seen him. How are we supposed to get his blood? Does he even have a single heir?”

Chu Kuang replied, “That one doesn’t matter. I have a way.”

Fang Jingyu was shocked. Chu Kuang had no known connection to the Tianfu Guard, and yet he sounded completely confident. Seeing Chu Kuang clearly had his own plan, Fang Jingyu didn’t press further.

Chu Kuang was as slick as an oil-soaked ghost. Within days, he’d gotten familiar with the palace guards and uncovered many rumors about Prince Ji.

Among the soldiers, all sorts of blasphemous gossip circulated. They soon learned that the so-called “Emperor Bai’s son” was merely a symbolic dragon-blooded heir endorsed by Yuanqiao, Fanghu, and Daiyu. Supposedly, Fatty Ji only held his position thanks to recommendations from the Bi Bao Guard, Bai Huan Guard, and Yu Ji Guard.

As for his name, it stemmed from a widely known legend in Daiyu. When Emperor Bai passed through this land during his campaign, he saw a wet nurse carrying a crying infant. He pointed with his riding crop and said, “If I were to have an heir, may he possess virtue to bless the world, and shock and humble the foolish.” Thus, Fatty Ji was “naturally” named Jingyu.

But there was another popular rumor: Fatty Ji wasn’t Emperor Bai’s bloodline at all, merely a puppet backed by the three Xian Mountain Guards to give them convenient control over the three moutains. More rumors whispered of hidden conflict among the guards—each scheming for the dragon throne.

Hearing all this, Chu Kuang finally sighed in relief, clapping Fang Jingyu’s shoulder.

“Close call! Looks like you’re the real deal.”

Fang Jingyu asked, “And if I weren’t?”

Chu Kuang’s eyes gleamed coldly.

“Then I’d just kill the real one. A fake can become the real thing too.” Fang Jingyu shivered involuntarily.

Then Chu Kuang added,

“But so what if you’re fake? I’ve followed you this far—there’s no abandoning you now. Even a glass bead can outshine a pearl.”

Fang Jingyu’s heart trembled. That was something he’d once said to his brother. He didn’t know whether Chu Kuang had slipped or if it was coincidence.

Lingering in Daiyu a while longer, they discovered something else: just like Penglai, private possession of history books was strictly forbidden. But Daiyu took it even further—no sundials, no water clocks, no bells for keeping time. The locals didn’t even strike night watches. People seemed used to it.

Despite the music and indulgence everywhere, the people here had blank, indifferent faces, going through the motions with listless hearts. Under Fatty Ji’s rule, the slaves were beaten daily. Before they arrived, the “meat banners” on the execution poles were refreshed almost every few days. Fatty Ji loved flogging people, especially using spiked maces on indentured slaves. There was a whole courtyard often soaked in blood and flesh. If not for Xiao Jiao becoming Divine Maiden and directly telling him she disliked such spectacles, even more lives would have been lost.

With the Divine Maiden’s arrival, Fatty Ji planned to host a feast. The palace fluttered with banners, music played all night. Rare delicacies from sea and mountain alike were presented—bear paws, braised venison—an endless display. Fang Jingyu heard that Gu Bi Guard, the Xian Mountain Guard of Daiyu, would be attending, and felt extra tense.

That night’s event was a literary feast. Golden cups, jade chopsticks, dancers in crimson sleeves and jeweled hairpins. Lanternlight blazed across the grand hall.

Xiao Jiao, in her Divine Maiden role, wore pale green silk gauze and a necklace of Eastern pearls, seated on the left. An empty seat beside her was meant for the Gu Bi Guard—but no matter how long they waited, that seat remained vacant.

Fatty Ji said awkwardly,

“The Gu Bi Guard is busy with urgent affairs and rarely attends events like this. Come, let’s drink, let’s drink!”

He toasted Xiao Jiao, and more treasures were laid on the table. The hall echoed with singing, dancing, and eight kinds of music in loud harmony.

As the feast went on and Fatty Ji drank heavily, his face flushed and his speech slurred. The guests relaxed as well. Fatty Ji declared:

“I’m full. How about a bit of fun to help the digestion?”

He ordered an archery target to be set up in the courtyard. A wooden stake was planted, with a slave tied to it. Someone drew charcoal lines on the slave’s body. Fatty Ji raised a cup and said:

“Honored guests, I’ve acquired some rare bows and blades lately. Whoever shoots best tonight will be richly rewarded!”

Cheers rang out. But Fang Jingyu felt nothing but discomfort. The slave on the stake trembled, priced openly by how well arrows hit his eyes, heart, or liver. All the guests—and Fatty Ji himself—were bloodthirsty. Other tied-up slaves waited nearby like livestock for slaughter.

Just as a guest was about to fire an arrow, Chu Kuang suddenly stood and said to Fatty Ji,

“Your Highness, I have a suggestion.”

“What is it?”

“One person shooting is no fun. Why not have a contest between two? That’ll be more exciting.”

Fatty Ji agreed and ordered another target to be set up. Chu Kuang accepted a poplar bow from a servant. He stood with feet shoulder-width apart and slowly took aim. The other guests sneered—seeing his thin, pale frame like someone barely recovered from illness.

“Hey, little stick-figure, want me to give you a few free shots?” one mocked.

Most of the guests were burly military men, muscles like iron, and looked down on Chu Kuang. He grinned and struck a proper archer’s pose.

“My archery isn’t great—please bear with me.”

The guest snorted, pulled his bow, and loosed an arrow straight at the slave’s eye. Applause rang out. For men trained in war, hitting a bound target was no challenge. But suddenly—an arrow came from the side and snapped the first arrow mid-flight!

The guest stared, stunned, then turned to see Chu Kuang bending with his bow, playing the fool.

“Ah, my apologies. Poor aim. Ruined your shot.”

“What kind of lousy aim breaks someone else’s arrow?”

Chu Kuang smiled wickedly.

“As I said—please bear with me.”

The guest, knowing Chu Kuang was close to the Divine Maiden, held his anger and fired again. But each time, Chu Kuang’s arrows knocked his aside. Five, six shots—all disrupted. Chu Kuang’s arrows fluttered like scattered blossoms, breaking every guest’s shaft, some even shattering their bows.

The guests were furious. One by one, they threw down their bows and walked off. Fatty Ji turned purple with rage, slammed the table, and shouted:

“What’s going on?! You—you—why do you keep shooting off target?!”

Chu Kuang chuckled,

“As I said, I only know a little about archery. Apologies for the embarrassment.”

“A little?” scoffed Fatty Ji. “That wasn’t a little—that was all wrong! Stop shooting before you ruin everyone else’s fun. Get down!”

But Chu Kuang said,

“Though I’m a novice, I gave it my all. I was hoping for a top prize.” He added,

“Your Highness, if you’d please look at the evergreen tree over there.”

Fatty Ji turned, puzzled, to see a massive evergreen in the courtyard—ten men couldn’t wrap their arms around it. And upon its bark, arrows were clustered densely.

Looking closely, those arrows were arranged in the unmistakable shape of a single character: 姬 (“Ji”).

Fatty Ji gaped, rushed to the tree, circled it again and again, then exclaimed in awe,

“Amazing… simply amazing!”

The guests were stunned too, and their eyes toward Chu Kuang filled with respect and fear. Fatty Ji, beaming with delight, turned around.

“What a divine archer! Someone, fetch a grand reward for this fine brother!”

Chu Kuang knelt and said,

“No need for lavish rewards. I only ask that Your Highness release these slaves. The Divine Maiden is merciful and dislikes bloodshed. That’s why I resorted to such a trick to disrupt the game—my actions are inexcusable.”

Fang Jingyu felt a wave of comfort. He knew Chu Kuang had once been a slave and couldn’t bear to see others suffer the same. Fatty Ji laughed heartily:

“I am generous and broad-hearted! Why would I hold it against you?” He turned to the guards.

“Release the wretches.”

The guards rolled the cages full of bound slaves out of the courtyard. Fatty Ji turned back to Chu Kuang, nodding with satisfaction.

“You’ve got real skill, and I’m a man of my word. I said I’d reward you with rare weapons, and so I shall! Bring out my treasures!”

Chu Kuang raised his head.

“Your Highness is too generous…”

But just then, he caught sight of servants carrying deer-hide bundles. Inside were bows and arrows—among them, a gleaming white bone bow like a crescent moon. His tone changed at once.

“I humbly thank Your Highness for the gift!”

Clutching the bow to his chest like a starving dog with a bone, Chu Kuang refused to let go. Fan Ruo was his master’s only remaining relic—his most treasured possession. Fatty Ji mistook the gesture for infatuation with a fine bow and laughed.

“That bow was found on a beach not long ago by fishermen and offered to me. It’s rare—firm, resilient, and exquisitely crafted. I reckon it must be a treasure from the Dragon Palace or a relic of the merfolk. I now bestow it upon you.”

Fang Jingyu thought: Dragon Palace treasure? More like our weapon got washed ashore and he happened to snatch it. Chu Kuang, now reunited with Fan Ruo, looked up and saw even more of their lost weapons—Daqu Bow and Hanguang Sword. The Vipashiyin Blade was stuck in a sea rock. Dozens of servants wheeled the weapons out of the palace on rolling logs.

Chu Kuang sprang up and said shamelessly:

“Your Highness, I’d like to show off a bit more and ask for those as well.”

“Didn’t expect you to be greedy,” Fatty Ji laughed. “Fine, show us some more skill. Let’s see what else you can do.”

At Chu Kuang’s instruction, a wooden board was set up in the courtyard. He pulled Fang Jingyu over to stand in front of it.

“Next, I’ll shoot from a hundred paces away. I’ll fire a full round around my dear companion here—none of the arrows will touch him.”

Fatty Ji stroked his chin.

“Ancient archers could pierce willows at a hundred paces. What you’re showing is hardly impressive.”

Chu Kuang smiled.

“True, Your Highness has seen much and won’t be impressed by mere tricks. So—”

He took a gold-embroidered silk sash and tied it over his eyes.

“I’ll shoot blind.”

Gasps rose all around. Only Fang Jingyu turned pale.

“Chu Kuang, if your aim fails, I’ll be off to meet King Yama first!”

“Little fool,” Chu Kuang grinned, “you know my skill—have a little faith in your lord.”

With that, he drew and fired—seven arrows flew like stars. The crowd watched in awe as he unleashed the “Seven-Star in Row” formation.

Fang Jingyu shivered. Wind swept past him. Thunk thunk thunk—in an instant, arrows ringed him in a human silhouette. None touched a hair on him. Chu Kuang pulled off his blindfold, grinning, revealing a board bristling with white-feathered arrows outlining a human form. Fatty Ji clapped and praised:

“Not a single miss! Brilliant—worthy of reward!”

Chu Kuang took the Daqu Bow from a servant and said,

“Forgive me, Your Highness—I’d also like the other weapons.”

“We’ve seen your skill. You’re no ordinary man. I won’t trouble you further,” Fatty Ji said, pointing at the Vipashiyin Blade.

“When we found this old sword, it was stuck in a sea rock—no one’s managed to lift it. If you can pull it out, it’s yours.”

The guests murmured in envy, but no one objected—they had all seen Chu Kuang’s prowess.

Chu Kuang stepped up and gripped the sword’s hilt, but faltered. Truth be told, he hadn’t fully recovered. After a moment, his palms were sweating, burning hot. Fatty Ji chuckled:

“Seems you’re not perfect after all—there are still things beyond you.”

Just then, a hand reached in and covered his. Chu Kuang looked over—it was Fang Jingyu.

Fang Jingyu tightened his grip, veins bulging beneath calm eyes that shone like moonlight. Chu Kuang thought: This tight-lipped gourd is strong! No wonder I couldn’t shake him off when he grabbed my wrist before.

Clang! With a sharp cry, the blade leapt from the stone like a white dragon breaching the sea. Its force was like a mountain crashing down—everyone was stunned. Chu Kuang stumbled, bumping into Fang Jingyu’s chest.

“Marvelous! Wonderful!” Fatty Ji clapped and laughed.

“Both of you shall receive high reward!”

The Hanguang Sword was also handed over. At last, all their weapons were back in their hands.

But Fatty Ji wasn’t done. He waved for servants to bring two cups of black millet wine and offered them to the pair. Looking around at the crowd, he said:

“After what I saw today, I know you two aren’t ordinary. Patrolling the walls is beneath your talent. From now on, stay by my side—be my personal guards!”

The two knelt and bowed, exchanging a glance. In each other’s eyes, they saw the glint of success. This entire ploy had been to get close to the gate to Guixu and find a chance to slip away. They bowed deeply and said in unison:

“Thank you, Your Highness!”

Fatty Ji nodded with satisfaction. As they rose, he picked up a pheasant-feathered fan and pointed at Chu Kuang:

“Your skill is high, and your courage admirable. I shall grant you a title. Since I am Emperor Bai’s blood…”

He paused, then declared:

“Very well. From now on, I name you—Tianfu Guard!”

Chu Kuang was dumbstruck.

Fatty Ji then pointed to Fang Jingyu, thought for a long moment, and added:

“And you—shall be… the Tianfu Guard’s servant boy!”