Chapter 312
Chapter 312
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 312
>Chapter Title: Madman
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After coming out of Oxheart Mountain, the silent Li Huowang followed the muddy path, trudging onward.
His paper clothes and skin gradually softened and rotted away onto the ground under the scouring rain.
Beneath the icy downpour, the charred skin on Li Huowang's body mingled with tender new buds of flesh that slowly emerged.
Drops of rain pelted the delicate new growth. In that moment, Li Huowang truly understood the torment of death by a thousand cuts, yet he made no effort to shield himself, silently enduring it all in the rain.
Gradually, the rain eased, and the sky began to lighten. Li Huowang stopped at a dilapidated temple. Days and nights without sleep had left him utterly exhausted.
He tilted his head up to gaze at the half-remaining plaque, then at the moss-covered couplets flanking it. Though the characters had faded badly, they could still be made out with care.
Upper couplet: All things depend on human effort—do not claim everything is fated.
Lower couplet: Circumstances arise from the mind—one step back, and peace is natural.
Li Huowang walked inside without a word. The temple was small, housing only a mud statue with half its body left; everything else had been carted off.
The roof leaked badly, leaving puddles inside nearly as deep as those outdoors. Drenched to the bone, he stood in the sole dry corner, staring blankly at the rain pouring through the hole above.
“Stupid, aren’t you? All alone now, huh? I told you to listen to me. Ignore the words of your elders, and suffer the consequences right away.”
Hong Zhong circled Li Huowang endlessly, his face brimming with malicious glee.
The monk shuffled over, his brows drooping as he offered comfort.
“Daoist priest, don’t take it too hard. This wasn’t your fault—you didn’t want to kill them. Just do more good deeds from now on, chant Amitabha Buddha more often. The Buddha won’t hold it against you.”
Li Huowang paid no heed to the two hallucinations at his side. His mind was consumed by the image of his hallucinated self reduced to a beggar, and by the icy stare Bai Lingmiao had given him the day before.
His family had rejected him, and he’d left Bai Lingmiao without a family of her own. He was a curse—whoever crossed his path was doomed to misfortune.
“Clang!” The purple-tasseled sword, radiating waves of baleful energy, was drawn.
Li Huowang closely examined his fractured reflection in the blade’s cold gleam.
As his thoughts churned, a question surfaced in his mind.
“What’s the point of being alive? If my life is this agonizing, then what’s the use of me sticking around?”
In an instant, silence fell. Jinshan Zhao, Peng Longteng, the monk, and Hong Zhong positioned themselves at the four compass points around Li Huowang.
“Hey, hey, what are you doing, Li boy? Calm down!”
The panicked Hong Zhong rushed forward to dissuade him.
“Yeah, Daoist priest, what’s this about? If life feels pointless, you could always take the tonsure and become a monk. Why go looking for death?”
The silent Peng Longteng stirred, her armored form gesturing in disdainful contempt.
Jinshan Zhao, who always had his mouth agape, clamped it shut. He fixed a gaze of concern on Li Huowang’s profile.
Li Huowang ignored them entirely, scrutinizing the sword before him as he pondered deeply. For the first time, he examined his life with such gravity.
“Aiya, it’s just some woman—how can a real man fret over wives? Sure, you’ve lost them, but you’ve still got us!”
Hong Zhong sidled up with a cheeky grin, jabbing a finger at his own chest.
At those words, Li Huowang’s rigid features twisted into utter ferocity.
“Swish!”
The razor-sharp longsword cleaved through Hong Zhong’s body, bisecting the mud statue behind him.
Gleaming coldly amid the rain, the near-maddened Li Huowang hacked relentlessly at the faceless Hong Zhong, the headless Peng Longteng, the limbless Jinshan Zhao, and the benign monk.
Yet no matter how keen the purple-tasseled sword’s edge or how fiercely Li Huowang swung, he couldn’t so much as nick them.
“You!! It’s all because of you!! What the hell are you things?! Why are you always stalking me!!”
Li Huowang’s roar detonated through the ruined temple.
“Why me?! Why am I the heart elemental?! Why am I the sick one?! Why me?! What did I ever do wrong?! Why not someone else?! All I wanted was to live in peace! Why is that so damn hard?!”
After swing after frenzied swing, Li Huowang staggered and collapsed, his sword skittering meters away.
Sprawled on the ground, he lay motionless. He was exhausted—truly, bone-weary.
Yet despite his desperate fatigue, sleep eluded him. His mind throbbed and pulsed relentlessly.
Hong Zhong crouched beside him, patting the floor as he consoled.
“No worries. From now on, just do as I say. Want women? I’ll con as many as you like for you.”
Li Huowang showed no outburst this time, merely lying there in silence, eyes unblinking.
Suddenly, the world warped and shifted around him. When Li Huowang snapped back to awareness, he found himself beneath a dank, chill bridge arch.
Staring at it all, Li Huowang’s mouth cracked open in a soundless bitter laugh that soon spilled into voice.
“Heh heh...”
Laughter turned to thirst—a raging thirst. Li Huowang rose and staggered to the water’s edge.
The rain had swollen the river high. He dropped to his belly and dunked his head in, gulping greedily.
Sated, hunger clawed at him next. He stood, swiped a hand across his face, and shuffled out from under the bridge.
Post-rain clarity sharpened the air, and the sidewalk bustled with passersby.
Ragged and filth-encrusted, Li Huowang emerged like a force field repelling all; none dared come within five meters.
“There’s that lunatic again. What are the urban enforcers doing—not keeping him in check?”
“Shh—don’t let him hear. That madman’s got sharp ears.”
“Poor soul, really.”
Li Huowang ignored the murmurs, prowling the streets in search of something.
He halted by a trash bin, flipped open the green lid, and bent to rummage intently for his meal.
Modern folk wasted food aplenty. Soon he unearthed two half-finished milk teas and a vegetarian bun with a bite taken out.
“Click!”
A camera flash popped. Nearby, a man with a cigarette dangling from his lips pocketed his phone, thumbs flying across the screen in his social feed.
“Check it—new Sharp Bro edition.”
Li Huowang scavenged a few more skewers of cold barbecue, munching as he headed back under the bridge.
That was when a pack of rowdy youths dashed past. Giggling from a distance, they pointed and jeered—until one hurled a pebble that smacked into Li Huowang.
“Hahaha! Madman! C’mere—want a smoke?”
Li Huowang’s lips split into a manic grin.
“Hahaha!! That’s right! I’m crazy! I’m the madman!! Hahaha!!”
(End of chapter)