Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Fortress of Crimson Garments

General’s Residence

As the sound of something shattering echoed through the halls, the servants and maids waiting outside could not help but tremble in their legs.

“Still no news?” came Ji Wuye’s furious roar.

“General, Tianze and his companions seem to have vanished without a trace. No matter how we search, we cannot find them,” replied a subordinate, voice quivering.

“What about Bai Yifei? No news from him either?” Ji Wuye pressed on.

“The Marquis of Blood is recuperating at the Blood Fortress and is not receiving guests at the moment.”

“Hmm? Bai Yifei is injured? Who hurt him?” Ji Wuye demanded.

“I do not know, sir.”

“Useless! Get out of my sight!” Ji Wuye, seeing none among his subordinates of any use, could not restrain himself and kicked at a nearby flower stand in frustration.

“General, Fourth Young Master Han Yu is here to visit.”

“Hmm? What’s he here for?” Ji Wuye was curious, but a thought quickly crossed his mind.

“Let him in.”

“Yes, sir.”

Han Yu surveyed the mess that filled Ji Wuye’s chambers and uprighted a table that blocked his path.

“What has caused the Great General to burn with such anger?” Han Yu’s signature gentle voice sounded.

Ji Wuye shot a contemptuous glance at this hypocrite. “Why ask what you already know? The Crown Prince died by your hand, didn’t he?”

From the moment Han Yu came to see him, Ji Wuye knew who the mastermind was. The greatest beneficiary of this affair was this fourth young master, who wore the guise of a kindly man. Now he had come here—surely the truth was nearly uncovered.

“What brings the esteemed Fourth Young Master to my humble abode?” Ji Wuye had no patience for this gentlemanly pretense, cutting straight to the point.

“I wish to form an alliance with you,” Han Yu said directly, knowing Ji Wuye’s impatience.

“An alliance? Ha! What would we gain from that?” Ji Wuye looked at Han Yu with a face full of sarcasm.

“The world moves for profit. There is no conflict of interest between us; an alliance would benefit us both,” Han Yu replied patiently.

“I see no profit for myself. I am now the Great General of Han, at the pinnacle of power. What, will you make me a prince?” Ji Wuye sneered.

“I’ve heard the young general is gravely ill,” Han Yu paced a few steps and spoke quietly.

“What are you implying?” Ji Wuye’s eyes chilled; this fellow was intent on rubbing salt in his wounds.

“Honglian is of marriageable age. As her brother, I must be concerned for her future. Tell me, is there anyone in Han more suitable than the Great General?” Han Yu laid his cards on the table, watching to see if Ji Wuye would be tempted.

“Hmm?” Ji Wuye did not react at first, but then a surge of wild joy flooded his heart. Was this possible? Why had he never thought of it?

Ji Wuye craved power—what greater authority could there be? If he wed Princess Honglian, he would ascend directly to the ranks of the elite, no longer merely a grassroots general propped up by military merit. Images of Honglian’s delicate and graceful figure flashed through his mind.

Han Yu saw Ji Wuye’s expression and knew his purpose was achieved. He understood what Ji Wuye wanted, and he possessed the bargaining chip. As for Honglian’s own thoughts—royalty exists for moments such as these.

As the two conspired, envisioning their future together, Li Yu was busy cultivating on the adorable Honglian herself.

He gazed at the little princess beneath him, her peach-blossom eyes hazy and flushed, her allure blossoming ever more. Li Yu instantly redoubled his efforts, pouring himself into his task.

…

“Feiyan, I can handle this alone. You need not worry,” Li Yu said helplessly to Yanfei, who insisted on accompanying him.

“Darling, this journey is dangerous. I cannot rest easy,” Yanfei refused to yield, sticking close to him.

“Fine, but you must follow my arrangements,” Li Yu shrugged, resigned.

Blood Fortress

Located on the outskirts north of Xinzheng, surrounded by mountains on all sides, only a single iron chain bridge spans the summit of a cliff—a natural stronghold, easy to defend and hard to assault.

The Blood Fortress is shrouded in perpetual gloom; snow and ice persist through the hottest summers, a marvel that piqued Li Yu’s curiosity about the female marquis of old.

It was said the previous owner was Bai Yifei’s mother, a woman of unparalleled beauty and ageless appearance—the only female marquis in Han whose name had been erased from history. Rumor had it she made a forbidden pact with darkness to retain her youth.

Bai Yifei likely inherited this secret art from his mother. According to Tide Moon, she rarely saw her aunt, but her aunt was much sought after in youth, courted by many talented men—including the present Ghost Valley Master and the Recluse of Humanity.

Yet, her aunt chose none, and after disappearing for a time, returned with a boy—who is now Bai Yifei. The event stunned all who knew her.

Li Yu mused over these tales, marveling at their oddity.

Crossing the iron chain bridge amid the April winds, Li Yu sneezed as the icy air pierced him.

Yanfei, ever considerate, placed her hand on Li Yu’s back to soothe him.

“It’s nothing, Feiyan—just caught off guard. I’m fine now,” Li Yu took Yanfei’s petite hand and led her to the end of the bridge.

A man carrying a massive scythe approached.

“Get lost,” he barked, pointing the blade at Li Yu, ready to fight at the slightest provocation.

“I am Fang Yu, here to seek something from the Marquis of Blood,” Li Yu replied politely, hoping for peace before force.

“Don’t know you. Get lost,” the man repeated, waving his scythe impatiently.

“Oh? Then let me introduce myself,” Li Yu, seeing the man was stubborn, drew his sword and struck at the scythe.

“Haha, about time—” the man laughed, but before he finished, a bloody gash appeared between his brows. The scythe split in two, and so did he, spilling blood and viscera across the floor.

Li Yu, disgusted, led Yanfei around the mess and walked inside.

“Feiyan, was that man mentally deficient? Couldn’t understand plain words—had to show off,” Li Yu complained as he felt Yanfei’s slender fingers.

Through the grand doors, he entered a circular hall with European architectural flair.

As Li Yu stepped inside, twenty people surrounded him.

He glanced up to the second floor, spotting the conspicuous blood-red dress.

“Well! The Marquis of Blood is as dashing as ever. Seems your injuries are nearly healed. I’ve come to request something—may I?” Li Yu greeted cheerfully.

“You want the antidote for Tianze’s poison,” Bai Yifei’s blood-red eyes gazed at Li Yu.

Since suffering a heavy blow that day, Bai Yifei no longer dared underestimate this seemingly harmless man.

“If you want the antidote, follow me. She stays,” Bai Yifei pointed at Yanfei.

“Fine,” Li Yu weighed his wooden staff and said to Yanfei, “Act as needed.”

Yanfei nodded, ready to attack, fierce as a mother leopard defending her cub.

Li Yu followed Bai Yifei step by step up the stairs, matching his pace to Bai Yifei’s, wary of any trap.

“The antidote is behind this door,” Bai Yifei said to a white stone doorway.

“Then you go in first,” Li Yu gestured to the door.

“Alright,” Bai Yifei replied, turning and entering.

Li Yu, seeing no trick, followed.

But as soon as he entered, something felt wrong—where was Bai Yifei? He tried to leave, but the stone door snapped shut.

Li Yu did not panic, surveying the room. Opposite the entrance, there was a concealed door—Bai Yifei must have escaped that way.

He searched the walls for traps or hidden mechanisms but found nothing. Time was short; his wife waited outside.

Li Yu closed his eyes and extended his senses, but the walls absorbed his spiritual energy. He barely sensed that the floor was the weakest point, but below was only darkness.

Before Li Yu could act, the room’s temperature plummeted. Thick ice formed on the walls.

Without delay, Li Yu struck at the floor with his staff.

As expected, the floor gave way, and Li Yu tumbled down.

But the descent felt wrong—this was only the second floor, yet he fell for what seemed an eternity. At this rate, he might die from the fall.

Li Yu gathered his inner energy, using his hands to unleash it downward, slowing his descent.

It was only about ten breaths before he hit the ground, lying motionless like a dead dog.

Unable to bear the cold, he forced himself up, feeling his way through the utter darkness, unable to see anything.

He found his wooden staff and drew his sword, striking the ground.

In a flash, he saw his surroundings—and his hair stood on end.

He wished he hadn’t looked.

Li Yu’s powerful memory fixed the scene instantly.

This was no room—it was a tomb.

In the center stood a giant crystal coffin, a beautiful woman in red lying within.

Though he caught only a glimpse, Li Yu scanned her features and figure from every angle.

Stunning, but alas—a corpse.

Li Yu sighed.

As his sigh echoed in the darkness, the woman’s finger twitched eerily.

“Could this be Bai Yifei’s mother’s tomb? It certainly looks like it. But building a house directly atop a grave—such feng shui is rare,” Li Yu mused.

Tap, tap, tap—the slightest sound was amplified in the silence.

Li Yu heard something other than himself and leapt up, sword drawn, striking at the ground with a flourish.

Seeing a bloodless face before him, Li Yu panicked and ran.

He feared no man, but the supernatural was not his forte.

He forgot all his martial arts.

Blindly stumbling in the darkness, he crashed into something.

Immediately, the other gripped him tightly.

As Li Yu struggled, the other’s body emanated a faint floral fragrance, growing softer.

“Hey! Why are you biting my neck?” Li Yu suddenly felt numbness as his blood surged toward his captor.

Li Yu, in desperation, bit her neck back.

Mutual harm—let’s see who wins.

Gradually, the woman’s scent intensified.

Her long hair floated in the unseen breeze.

In the darkness, Li Yu could see nothing, but felt as if he’d been drugged, his heartbeat accelerating uncontrollably.

Their lips, biting each other’s neck, somehow melded together.

In the pitch-black chamber, they resembled passionate lovers, seeking warmth only from each other.

A white light pierced the sky, shooting toward the deepest part of Blood Fortress.

Bai Yifei stared blankly at the white light, suddenly realizing something, his face turning ghastly.

“Stop her—I have urgent business!” Bai Yifei ordered, pointing to Yanfei, who battled his death servants.

Yanfei noticed the white beam and instantly thought of Li Yu.

She broke off the fight, wielding the Three-legged Golden Crow indiscriminately. The hall became a hellish inferno, charred bodies everywhere.

Yanfei’s techniques directly countered Bai Yifei’s, leaving him overwhelmed.

Soon, Bai Yifei was battered into a corner, hair disheveled, blood at his mouth, utterly wretched.

Twice defeated in short order—and they seemed to be lovers.

Bai Yifei was deeply vexed.

Once, the Marquis of Blood would silence crying children; now, he had fallen so low.

He was dying inside.

Worst of all, someone else may have been awakened.

That filled Bai Yifei with terror.

Bloodline suppression—a primal fear from deep within.

Never had he felt so defeated—now he must face her wrath.

He could not fathom why Li Yu would ignore the main door and go underground.

…

World of Douluo

Li Yu roasted an unknown beast as he told a story to Dugu Yan.

“Five hundred years ago, a stone at the seaside absorbed the essence of heaven and earth…” Li Yu, with his eloquence, narrated Journey to the West so vividly and captivatingly that Dugu Yan, initially uninterested, was gradually drawn in.

“Little brother, the cultivation system in your story is different from ours,” Dugu Bo observed, intrigued by the mystical aspects of Journey to the West.

“Could you explain it in detail?”

“Grandfather, he’s just making it up. Don’t take it seriously!” Dugu Yan swung her alluring long legs, dismissive.

“The Way is natural—the myriad things of heaven and earth can be the Way. Soul beasts can cultivate and attain it; so can humans. I suspect someone deliberately corrupted this world’s cultivation system, setting an artificial limit. But the Way has no limit,” Li Yu finished.

Suddenly, the sky turned pitch black.

A bolt of lightning struck not far from Li Yu, as if warning him for his words.

As the sky cleared, Dugu Bo and Dugu Yan looked at Li Yu in disbelief.

Warned by the heavens?

Who was this youth?

And what was this “Way” he spoke of?

Their curiosity deepened.

“Let’s continue the story. In the distant east, there was a nation called Tang…”

…

An endless forest.

At its heart, a beautiful lake.

A ripple shattered the lake’s tranquility.