“What more needs to be said of my prince?” Li Jinglong finished with a lift of his brows.
Hongjun stroked his cheek as he studied his handsome face. “Sometimes, I can’t help thinking things would be much more difficult for you if my dad really were the yao king of Chang’an.”
Li Jinglong grinned. “In that case, we would have to fight to the death—but who knows, I might let you win.”
“Well, I wouldn’t show you any mercy.”
“Naturally.” A thought occurred to Li Jinglong. “How did Xie Yu end up fighting your dad all those years ago?”
Hongjun had no idea; in fact, he knew very little about those events. “I guess the yao race split into two factions.”
“So the yao race also has internal conflicts,” Li Jinglong mused.
“Of course.”
Li Jinglong frowned in thought. Sensing that he’d been struck by some fresh inspiration, Hongjun slipped out of his lap and sat down beside him. “What are you thinking about?”
Li Jinglong turned to him. “I feel like the answer’s just out of reach. Can you repeat what you said just now?”
“If my dad really were the yao king of Chang’an?”
“No, the next part.”
“The yao race split into two factions?” Hongjun tried again.
An idea flashed through Li Jinglong’s mind. “Do you remember what Yongsi said about the intel he gathered from the macaque?”
“He said Wine, Lust, Greed, and Wrath are four yaoguai working for Xie Yu.”
“What do they do again?” Li Jinglong was breathing quicker now; he felt like he was half a step away from the truth.
“They’re responsible for protecting another demon?” Hongjun said. “Xie Yu transformed his three immortal souls into demon seeds to replace the true demon seed of Mara, which he failed to find…”
“One was in Lu Xu,” Li Jinglong said.
Hongjun nodded. “But we destroyed it.”
“The second must be in Xie Yu. But the location of the last one is still unknown,” Li Jinglong said, nearly trembling with excitement. “The snake you saw in the Zhao Mausoleum—do you think it was the second or third?”
Hongjun scratched his head; he didn’t know. Li Jinglong forged ahead. “Heart demons require a host. Is it possible that the hosts of two of Xie Yu’s heart demons might end up on opposing sides?”
“Huh?” The idea seemed absurd. Hongjun tried to follow the thread of his logic. If the yao race could split into two factions, then perhaps it stood to reason that Xie Yu’s heart demons could do the same. For instance, Xie Yu had transformed one of his immortal souls into a heart demon and planted it in Lu Xu, causing Lu Xu to descend into demonhood. But the dark Lu Xu was still Lu Xu; he hadn’t become Xie Yu just because he housed one of his souls.
In other words, somewhere out there in the Divine Land, there was another host who housed a demon seed, yet possessed their own consciousness, independent of Xie Yu. The only question was whether they were human or yao.
“So we’ve gone from one enemy to two?” Hongjun asked.
“Unless they’re fighting among themselves,” Li Jinglong said.
“But that couldn’t really happen…could it?” Hongjun mumbled. “He…”
“Xie Yu refined two of his immortal souls into heart demon seeds, then sought out hosts for those seeds,” Li Jinglong said. “The seed didn’t devour Lu Xu’s soul. The hosts still have their own will, correct?”
Hongjun nodded. Li Jinglong continued, “Then let’s say I was the host. Instead of doing what Xie Yu wants, I might want to turn the tables and devour him, or break free of his control.”
“If I were Xie Yu, I wouldn’t tell you the truth,” Hongjun countered.
“Then maybe it wouldn’t hurt for us to tell them.”
While Hongjun silently considered this, Li Jinglong quickly gathered the fireflies back into the box, then cupped a hand over Hongjun’s mouth. Arm still wrapped around his waist, he got up and pulled him into a corner.
A gust of wind funneled into the mausoleum like a gathering of ghosts, rustling the books on the shelf. Eerie blue light flared; in an instant, the tomb transformed into a spectral scene, as if all the souls of the dead had returned. Spiritual energy wove back and forth across the breadth of the Ding Mausoleum, accompanied by a man’s strangely hoarse laughter. Hongjun’s eyes widened at the sound, a chill running down his spine.
The unnatural wind subsided with a final moan. Hongjun gripped Li Jinglong’s fingers with one hand and clutched a throwing knife in the other as Li Jinglong quietly led them, hunched over, from their corner. The blue light still twisted and jumped through the imperial mausoleum like a winding river. Li Jinglong gestured for Hongjun to duck, avoiding the stream of light. They hid themselves behind a sancai-glazed statue the size of a grown man and watched as a figure entered the tomb with a limping gait.
From their vantage, they could only see the yaoguai’s shadow, which resembled a human walking with a pair of crutches. It silently lumbered its way to higher ground, where it was joined by a second figure. The pair seemed to be communicating using human speech interspersed with inscrutable, guttural sounds.
“Where are the…mentioned?” one asked. “The door of the mausoleum…opened yet.”
“Quick,” the other yaoguai responded. “Stop…time…”
The first yaoguai let out a harsh peal of laughter. There was a loud rumble as the door to Li Xian’s burial chamber opened.
Hongjun peeked out and felt himself immediately yanked back. He flapped a hand at Li Jinglong, indicating that the two yaoguai had gone inside. Mollified, Li Jinglong peeked out as well.
The central vault was located on a higher level than the one they stood on. A blast of purple-black light burst from the chamber’s entrance, accompanied by the voices of countless individuals singing and conversing, and a clinking cascade of copper coins.
With one finger, Li Jinglong sketched a word on the back of Hongjun’s hand: Greed.
Hongjun’s eyes widened. The purple-black light faded, and there was a sudden clamor from inside.
What are they doing?! Hongjun was about to explode from curiosity, but Li Jinglong had a firm grip on his hand; there was no way he could run out and take a look.
The noise died down as abruptly as it’d started.
“I…Xie Yu…knows.”
“Even if he…what can he do? Besides…our plan…don’t kill…”
“…easy for you to say.”
“They don’t know…”
“Speaking of, it’s strange…ambush.”
“…at the Qiao Mausoleum…”
The pair of shadows hobbled back out on their crutches.
Their voices were faint and indistinct, but Li Jinglong listened intently until the yaoguai were safely out of the mausoleum. The interlude had been brief; in less time than it took to finish a cup of tea, the tomb settled back into silence.
“What are they?” Hongjun wondered, perplexed.
Li Jinglong raised a hand for quiet as he mulled over what had just happened.
“‘Where are the exorcists’…or maybe ‘guards…that Xie Yu mentioned’?” Li Jinglong repeated from memory. “‘The door to the mausoleum hasn’t been opened yet.’ Then, the second one told the first one to hurry up: ‘Stop wasting time.’”
With Li Jinglong’s recitation jogging his memory, Hongjun began to piece together the guttural syllables as well: “‘I hate that Xie Yu knows’?”
“‘I suspect Xie Yu already knows,’” Li Jinglong suggested. “‘Even if he knows, what can he do? Besides, he doesn’t know about our plan. Everything will be fine so long as we don’t kill anyone.’ ‘That’s easy for you to say.’ ‘They don’t know the details of our plan.’ ‘Speaking of, it’s strange there’s no ambush.’ ‘It’s probably at the Qiao Mausoleum.’”
Li Jinglong and Hongjun traded a glance. “They’re not working with Xie Yu!” Hongjun whispered.
“What yaoguai speak like this? Fish? Birds?” Li Jinglong asked.
Hongjun frowned, then shook his head. “It seemed like they were using crutches—what could they be?”
Hongjun began to straighten up, but Li Jinglong pushed him back down. They stayed hidden until the carp yao called into the darkness, “Hongjun?”
Only then did Hongjun and Li Jinglong creep out from the mausoleum. The moon had reached its zenith. Li Jinglong scanned their surroundings. At least tonight, there were no casualties. Wasting no time, he set off down the mountain with Hongjun in tow.
Beneath the pale moonlight, a broken-antlered white deer glowed gently as it bounded over the meadow. Lu Xu met Hongjun and Li Jinglong at the foot of the mountain.
“We engaged the enemy in a fight at the Xian Mausoleum,” he said. “The big wolf was hurt, so I sent him back to Chang’an.”