Chapter 29: Staying Alive

"Shut up."

Yan Kuang paused for a moment before replying to Cheng Ruyi with those two cold words.

Cheng Ruyi's consciousness was on the verge of slipping away; his lips moved twice, but then he went still. Yan Kuang lay flat on the ground, his clothes, soaked through by the river water, rising and falling with his breath.

Yan Kuang forced himself to think. He told himself that the current situation was surely not enough to defeat him.

Having served as an official in the Zhenfu Division for ten years, he had seen it all: familial ties, love, friendship, grievances... no matter what it was, everything was ground into mud and torn to shreds within the walls of the imperial prison.

He had witnessed too much of the world's joys and sorrows, the futility of human sentiment and loyalty. His heart had long since hardened into stone, and he had developed a habit: as long as he could survive, as long as he himself could keep living, nothing else mattered.

If a teammate like Cheng Ruyi had been in his path in the past, Yan Kuang would have chosen to abandon him without hesitation.

Then, he would have lived.

But now.

Yan Kuang closed his eyes. Whether it was the final flicker of life before death or not, his senses were unnaturally sharp.

The thick mist of the mountain forest swirled with the night wind, brushing past his cheeks and ears. The sound of the wind was delicate and light, sweeping over the creatures of the woods, brushing past the tips of leaves where dew drops fell—like the rhythmic, long-drawn breathing of the mountains themselves.

Yan Kuang suddenly snapped his eyes open. The half-moon, obscured by the distant mountains, was shattered by the branches and leaves before him, scattering into golden scales that reflected across the ground in fragmented, distorted shadows, neither whole nor perfect.

Nothing can be left incomplete. It cannot be, it should not be.

In a daze, his hands, splayed in the mud, suddenly clenched tight. His fingernails dug into the earth. As he bent his knees and gritted his teeth, he pushed with his shoulders and elbows simultaneously.

The man, encased in blood and mud, finally struggled back to his feet.

Yan Kuang hooked his foot to flip his sword and pack onto his back, then walked slowly to the unconscious Cheng Ruyi, bent down, scooped him up, and carried him horizontally.

Moonlit night, sea of fire, cold wind like a blade.

A traveler, a long road, a distant future.

Branches slanted, light was faint, and the chirping of insects gradually faded. Yan Kuang did not know where he was; he felt as if he were stepping into a void. Step by step, the sounds around him receded, turning into absolute silence, and his senses began to shut down once more.

He held the man in his arms tightly, stepping forward toward the only faint glimmer of light his pupils could capture, step by step.

Following his heart, doing what he must.

...

Cheng Ruyi honestly never imagined he would wake up yet again.

The moment consciousness returned, his forehead felt as if it had been struck by a heavy club; his head throbbed with agony. He could not see clearly, could not speak; he felt light-headed and dizzy, his stomach churning until he finally couldn't hold it back, turned his head, and vomited.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

The sour bile surged up, causing Cheng Ruyi to cough incessantly. After a long while, he finally calmed down. Although his throat burned, at least his breathing was unobstructed.

Assuming the other person's condition couldn't be any better, Cheng Ruyi tried to call out in a hoarse voice: "Lord Yan... you're not dead, are you?"

"Lord Yan?"

"Officer Yan... you dog?"

After waiting for a long time without a reply, Cheng Ruyi struggled to sit up. He was in a dilapidated temple. A small campfire was burning warmly beside him, and his own wet clothes had been stripped off and left to dry to the side.

And the King of Hell himself was lying across from him.

"Asleep?"

Cheng Ruyi shuffled over, but the moment he caught a glimpse, his hands began to tremble.

His face was deathly pale, his lips black and purple.

Had it not been for Yan Kuang's black clothes masking the blood, it was hard to imagine what a terrifying sight it would have been. Cheng Ruyi panicked, then caught sight of a large patch of grass stained red with blood.

Only after confirming that Yan Kuang was still breathing did his hands stop shaking.

First, he had to figure out where they were, then find a doctor... Cheng Ruyi muttered to himself, turning his head to look around. The door in front was only half-remaining, which was just as well for ventilation, keeping them from being choked by stray wisps of smoke.

Enduring the discomfort, Cheng Ruyi knelt and shuffled toward the door, resting his chin on the slanted wooden frame and peering outside with his shoulder against the panel.

As expected, he saw no useful information.

A vast sea of forest, overgrown with weeds; he was nearly frightened to death by a flock of startled birds. He tilted his head on the door frame, suddenly feeling as if he were on a chopping block, and quickly moved away.

"My apologies, Lord Yan..."

Cheng Ruyi moved back, pressed his palms together, and bowed before Yan Kuang.

Looking at it now, it didn't look like he would find a doctor... Cheng Ruyi thought that if he really left like this, he probably wouldn't even be able to find his way back.

Taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, he reached out and, with all his might, pinched Yan Kuang's philtrum.

"Lord Yan... wake up, hurry up and wake up... you won't even wake up from this?!"

Gathering his strength, Cheng Ruyi simply swung his arm and slapped him across the face, "slap, slap, slap, slap," until Yan Kuang's head was bobbing like a rattle-drum.

"Wake up... wake up, Lord Yan!"

Suddenly, a mouthful of blood and phlegm surged up, causing Yan Kuang to cough violently.

Seeing Yan Kuang open his eyes, Cheng Ruyi was overjoyed: "He's awake! He's still alive!"

Yan Kuang's mind was chaotic. He felt a stinging pain in his philtrum and cheeks, thinking it was the result of the poison, and replied in a raspy voice: "Yes, still alive."

With that, Yan Kuang coughed up two mouthfuls of blood and collapsed back down.

Cheng Ruyi's smile froze on his face. He quickly shook Yan Kuang's arm: "Don't... don't, Lord Yan, I don't know where this is. You tell me, so I can go find someone to help..."

Yan Kuang recalled that before falling unconscious, he had carried Cheng Ruyi into this ruined temple, mustered the strength to light a fire, and stripped off his wet clothes before losing consciousness. Thinking back carefully, this place should be...

"It is the border of Feng Prefecture." Yan Kuang cleared his throat with effort. "Head east; there should be a village."

Cheng Ruyi paused.

Feng Prefecture. Wasn't that the very place where his mentor had fallen and he himself had been demoted as a result?

Back then, as a minor judge with no background or family support, upon arriving in Feng Prefecture, he had been subjected to the insults and exclusion of the local gentry and the state government. No one treated him like a top scholar; no one even treated him like a human being.

A phoenix with plucked feathers is worth less than a chicken.

Yet, after traveling in a circle, he had returned to the same old place. Fine. What was this if not "enemies on a narrow road"?

"Alright... alright then. As long as I know where we are..." Cheng Ruyi tried to stand up. "Lord Yan, should I carry you, or should I go ahead and find someone first?"

Yan Kuang’s mind was muddled. His body, already broken, was further ravaged by knife wounds and poison; that he was still breathing was a miracle. He felt that the "year or so" the physician had predicted had likely been reduced to a mere moment.

"Cheng Ruyi, you go."

Yan Kuang moved his hand to point at the pack nearby. "Take the travel money and go."

"Don't head toward the main city of Feng Prefecture. Once you've rested, head west."

"Go to a place where no one knows you. Two thousand strings of cash—you can live however you want from now on."

Cheng Ruyi frowned, assuming Yan Kuang was delirious from his heavy injuries. He was about to speak, but Yan Kuang interrupted him.

The King of Hell's voice was so hoarse, and his throat so clogged with blood and phlegm, that it didn't sound as cold as usual—just a bit unpleasant.

He said in a deep voice: "This place is fine. I intend to sleep here forever."

Knowing Yan Kuang wasn't joking, Cheng Ruyi thought it over for a second, then tore open the pack, took half the money, and scrambled away.

Listening to the sounds of stumbling finally die down, Yan Kuang felt a sense of relief. He couldn't go any further, so this was where it would end. Perhaps in a moment, he would see many old friends, enemies, and family members.

But suddenly, the sound of fluttering returned to his ears. Yan Kuang forced his eyes open to see Cheng Ruyi stumbling back.

"Afraid I'll be in too much pain, so you came back to see me off?" Yan Kuang said lightly. "The sword is by my right hand. Do you know how to use it?"

"You... you shut up too," Cheng Ruyi said indignantly. He fashioned a staff, tied a piece of cloth to the top of a branch, and leaning on the makeshift cane, he stepped over the debris of the threshold and headed out again.

"Take care," Yan Kuang closed his eyes.

"Yan Kuang... you just wait for me," Cheng Ruyi gritted his teeth.

Yan Kuang managed to say, "Why does that sound like you're asking me to wait for you to come back for revenge?"

"Something like that..." Cheng Ruyi stopped and looked back. "Don't you die."

...

He didn't know how much time had passed; it had been hot outside, but it was gradually cooling down. Yan Kuang was half-asleep, half-awake. In his riddled body, the poison seemed insignificant; he couldn't feel much pain, and naturally, he couldn't feel the passage of time.

However, in a daze, the sound of crisp bells shattered the barrier of his consciousness, unexpectedly bringing back a moment of clarity.

Yan Kuang turned his head toward the sound, thinking he was so delirious he had begun to have foolish dreams.

In his eyes, the top scholar now had a different look: his hair was hastily tied, he wore a bamboo hat, and his legs were wrapped like those of a peddler. He was riding a donkey, pulling a cart. On the cart were several layers of burlap, and on a waist-high stack at the side, small flags, drums, sachets, and bells were hung.

"Is the person inside... still alive!"

Cheng Ruyi shouted from outside. Seeing that Yan Kuang could still move, he quickly tied the donkey to a tree, picked up the cane he had propped up before leaving, and swayed into the temple.

He first collected the scattered pack, put it on his back, and then went to drag the man lying on the ground.

"What did you eat to grow so heavy... move a little, I can't lift you..."

"You should thank your lucky stars. I was dumped here once before; I know the way, and I know how to ride a donkey."

It wasn't a dream. Yan Kuang felt his head burning and his eyes heating up. His thoughts were in a mess, and he couldn't say a word.

So, he simply followed Cheng Ruyi's instructions, grabbed his shoulder, and struggled to rise using his strength.

Cheng Ruyi gritted his teeth and tensed his muscles, dragging him toward the cart. Mid-way, as he lowered his head, his bamboo hat wasn't tied securely and slid off, landing right on Yan Kuang's forehead.

Yan Kuang: "..."

Cheng Ruyi almost dropped him, but with a squeeze of his eyes and a grit of his teeth, he dragged the dead-weight King of Hell onto the cart.

"There's a small drawer on your left. There's food on all three levels. I didn't dare ask for soup because I was afraid of the bumps on the road, but I filled the water skins; they're in there too."

Cheng Ruyi hugged the donkey's head, giving it an affectionate pat before sitting on the front of the cart, leaning against the rail, and flicking the whip: "Thank you for your hard work, brother donkey. Our top priority is to take this poor man who fell off a mountain and into the river to see a doctor..."

The donkey cart began to roll, the jolts bringing half of Yan Kuang's soul back to his body. The sound of the donkey bells and the peddler's bells rang in harmony, so annoying that it dragged Yan Kuang's consciousness, which had been drifting into the halls of the underworld, back in one piece.

"You really don't want me to die?" Yan Kuang asked, maintaining his clarity.

"That's a strange question." Cheng Ruyi turned back and rolled his eyes at him. "If I hoped you were dead, why would I have come back?"

Yan Kuang said, "Then I owe you a life."

With that, Yan Kuang struggled to turn over to reach for the water skin, took a large gulp, and nearly vomited. Seeing this, Cheng Ruyi reached out to rub his chest and soothe his breathing.

"Don't... what would I do with your life? Make meat buns with it?"