Chapter 46

Chen Shu’s question struck He Yu dumbfounded.

Though only a small breach had opened in the wall, the furious surge seemed to have found its outlet. As it poured out, rushing into the original course of the Yushui River, it presented an unsettling mix of haste and calm. The torrent remained fierce, yet comparing it to the towering wave moments before—even the blink of an eye before—was like seeing a beast retract its claws or sheathe its fangs. Though still dangerous, the waters were far less terrifying than before.

However, what the flood swept away was far more than mere earth, sand, wood, and stone.

Initially small, the breach couldn’t immediately drain the floodwaters. The surge could only spill out as the deluge fell back to the level of the fissure. Then, the current eased. This was precisely the goal He Yu contested so fervently with Li Chou: by lowering the water level, not only could the flooding escape, but civilians could also scramble onto rooftops to gain temporary refuge until the waters fully receded.

But those simple words—lowering the waters—hardly captured the devastating reality. As the deluge swept all debris downstream, this fragile peace went with it.

Perched on roofs, hanging from eaves, clinging desperately to rafters and beams—those who had endured for so long dared not slacken their grasp even as the tide turned. Their cries for help and desperate calls faded under the river’s roar, swallowed by a foreboding silence. Then—a sound pierced it all. Tearful, unidentifiable as man or woman, a heartbreaking wail shredded the nightmare of those long, desperate hours.

Soon, other cries followed. Trembling, frail, heart-wrenching—a desolate tapestry of sobbing voices drifting above Diancang Pass.

As the floodwaters receded, so too did countless lives.

Homelessness was epidemic. But even that was better than the children orphaned in infancy; older parents grieving their only child; newlyweds mourning the spouse lost in the prime of their marriage; the elderly embracing death together. Compared to that tragedy, mere loss of shelter was… bearable.

Before the waters had fully subsided, Chen Shu leapt back into the flood. The waters felt deceptively mild now. Beneath that surface lay hundreds of homes—entire livelihoods.

She swam purposefully towards the far end, meticulously scanning every collapsed dwelling, every treacherous vortex, every patch of seemingly placid water.

She saved many along the way.

Some clung to her, weeping inconsolably between sobs and hiccups. Others knelt upon familiar ground—now shattered—lost in fathomless grief. Still others, clinging to life, gasping for air, managed faint whispers of thanks as color slowly filled their faces.

She caught sight of Shen Jie, wrenching down a woven banner depicting a sighing child sign to help those stranded in low areas climb to safety.

She saw Liu Mao, directing the surviving garrison soldiers to fortify buildings and organize teams to wade out beyond the pass bearing messages.

Then she spotted the Xuan Qin group. Xu Qiong’s eyes found hers instantly. Xu Qiong raised a hand, waving vigorously in greeting.

This was the first time in her young life that Chen Shu had greeted so many people, had been hailed by young and old alike, yet it happened in such circumstances.

The only thing was, among these people, Yun Shen was not there.

Chen Shu swam by instinct toward the high building where Xu Qiong was located, her heart growing heavier. Only when she got close did she realize it was no tall building at all, but the Swordmasters’ Summit where she had previously sparred with Xu Qiong.

After swimming for a while, she had unknowingly returned to the heart of Diancang Pass—this very dueling ground.

Even with such careful searching, along the way, she hadn’t seen a single figure with the slightest resemblance to Yun Shen.

Even Chen Shu, even with her naturally carefree disposition, couldn’t help but grow doubtful. The breach at the city wall could channel the floodwaters that had turned the city upside down, and that trace of uncertainty felt like a breach in her heart—the more she searched, the less convinced she became. Yun Shen’s call—“Chen Shu!”—seemed to echo right in her ears, but it was drowned out by the weeping and murmurs of countless survivors. Chen Shu turned and swept her gaze over the scene once more, but she still couldn’t spot the figure who, moments ago, had been shouting at her by the city gate.

Xu Qiong waved to her again and reached out to pull her up. “Why are you so dazed? Though the flood’s weakened somewhat, daydreaming like this makes it easy to get swept away!”

Chen Shu let herself be pulled back onto the Swordmasters’ Summit. This platform, which had once held only the two of them, was now crowded with rescued survivors—old and young, some standing, some sitting. Only a small patch of space remained. Without complaint, Chen Shu sat down on the edge of the platform next to Xu Qiong, leaning against her shoulder, her feet dangling down.

By now, Chen Shu had long lost her earlier neat appearance. Like Xu Qiong, she huddled close. The two resembled little beasts that had been roughly washed down, their robes soaked through. Her hair ribbon had been swept away by the flood at some point during the rescues, so her hair, wet and tangled, hung loose over her shoulders.

“Your sword,” Chen Shu remembered something else and sighed, “I lost your sword too…”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Xu Qiong, gently patting her back. “As long as you’re safe. Seeing you heading toward the ferry sent shivers down my spine—the floodwaters out there were far more treacherous than inside the Pass. One misstep, and your life could’ve been lost.”

Xu Qiong’s words made Chen Shu’s heart sink even deeper. She sniffled and burrowed mournfully into Xu Qiong’s arms, curling into a ball, her heart swelling with boundless sorrow.

Seeing this, Xu Qiong probably assumed she was still blaming herself for the lost sword. Tucking behind Chen Shu’s ear a stray lock of wet hair stuck to her cheek, Xu Qiong said gently, “Really, it’s okay. Swords can be bought again or forged anew—there are plenty of ways. I’ve heard you risked yourself to save all the people in this city; losing one sword? It’s nothing compared to human lives! Legends tell of an ancient Sage who split a mountain to save the world, cleaving the Yushui River to forge a passage for life itself, bringing water, and thus life, to every town and village along its banks. Today, you broke through the city wall and saved everyone inside. Every soul rescued this day surely honors you as a Sage, no different from the ancient savior!”

Chen Shu gave a loud sniff.

“Senior Sister, you’re spouting nonsense to fool a child again!” came a retort from nearby. Ying Wei stepped up, squatting beside the two of them. He seemed to want to reach out and tuck away the hair from Chen Shu’s cheek too, but hesitated, perhaps out of awkwardness. Instead, he rubbed his hands and picked up his tiff with Xu Qiong, “No one believes those dusty old tales anymore! Probably nothing but stories made up by gossips, meant to trick people like you and naive kids—”

“Aren’t you a little brat yourself?” Xu Qiong only gave a cold chuckle and tossed back those few words. Shaking her head as if unwilling to bother arguing with Ying Wei, she turned back to Chen Shu, her tone softening once more. Patting Chen Shu’s back, she said, “Man proposes, heaven disposes. That the flood has reeded is luck enough. It’s just one lost sword. I’ve already set it aside, there’s no need for you to grieve over it.”

This patient coaxing finally lifted Chen Shu’s head. Her eyes, which Xu Qiong now saw were filled with unshed tears, rounded and normally dark orbs rendered shining and bright, held Xu Qiong’s gaze. That gaze unconsciously made Xu Qiong swallow hard; the corners of her lips tugged uncertainly, and the rhythm of her comforting pats slowed. She listened as Chen Shu finally spoke.

“But I promised to protect him…,” Chen Shu said, her voice as crisp and clear as ever, despite the tears sparkling in her eyes.

“Huh?” Xu Qiong’s hand froze mid-pat. She tilted her head to fully meet Chen Shu’s gaze. “You’re grieving… for my sword?”

Chen Shu sniffled again. The tears welled up and shimmered, yet stubbornly refused to fall; she merely looked heartbreakingly tearful. “I didn’t just lose your sword… I also lost that Scholar… the one who… well, maybe he wasn’t exactly beside me through thick and thin, but he certainly witnesed me going through thick and thin! It was him who called me back from the city gate! But I just rushed back to rescue people and forgot to bring him along—”

“You mean… by the ferry dock city gate?” Xu Qiong clicked her tongue in concern. Seeing Chen Shu nod, she fell silent for a good while, seeming to weigh her words carefully before finally offering tentatively, “Then… it’s likely he faced grave danger… Though the flood hasn’t completely drained yet. You said he went to the ferry to look for you? Just maybe… perhaps he knows a bit how to swim? Then he could be alive. Diancang Pass is so large; let Lord Shen and her team take roll call of survivors first; couldn’t you look for him then?”

This attempt at comfort only seemed to plunge Chen Shu deeper into sorrow. Her face flushed red, lips pressed together tightly, she seemed on the verge of a full-blown meltdown. “—But he doesn’t know anything! He’s weak and frail! Forget swimming, I doubt he’d have the strength to pull himself out of the water onto this Swordmasters’ Summit! And… and I didn’t see him anywhere along the way back! He’s doomed! He must have been swept away by the water—all because I didn’t remember to bring him—

“Yun Shen aaaah—! How tragically you died!”

“Who died?” Shen Jie called out as she pushed a makeshift wooden board supporting a young girl towards the Swordmasters’ Summit. Having spotted them and heard Chen Shu’s heartbreaking wails from afar, she sounded incredulous. She hoisted the girl onto the platform and gestured toward Chen Shu, asking Xu Qiong, “What’s wrong? Why’s she crying so hard? Isn’t He Yu bustling around managing things up ahead?”

Xu Qiong waved her hand dismissively and whispered, “I don’t know either… says some scholar died…” Halfway through her sentence, she was interrupted by Chen Shu’s renewed, even more heartbroken sobs. Undeterred, she resumed her patient, rhythmic patting on Chen Shu’s back.

“Oh, you mean the one called Yun Shen?” Shen Jie interjected. She reached over and patted Chen Shu’s tear-puffed cheek, sighing softly before offering gentle comfort, “…Natural disasters are beyond foretelling. It wasn’t your fault. Though ability brings more responsibility, you’ve already done enough. No one can attend to everything—that’s beyond the scope of mere mortals.”

“I… I was,” Chen Shu huffed out between sobs, tears streaming as she spoke, “never a mere mortal to begin with! I could have protected everyone!

“You did protect people!” Xu Qiong jumped in quickly. “Didn’t you protect me? Didn’t you protect everyone in the city? If Yun Shen knew in his watery grave, he wouldn’t blame you either!”

“I…” Chen Shu was starting to cry out a reply when she was cut off by a familiar voice.

“Who knows what in the watery grave?”

Yun Shen was precariously hanging onto the outer wall of the Swordmasters’ Summit. He coughed twice, then reached his hand up towards Chen Shu. But instead of grabbing it to pull him up, Chen Shu simply gaped at him. She froze for a split second, then let out a loud “Waaaah!” and started crying harder than ever.

——“Look, he’s back as a vengeful spirit to haunt me!!”