Chapter 91:
A Century-Old Promise
DRAWING A STEADYING breath, Li Jinglong struggled to his feet, one hand on the wall for support. “You say you can’t take it from him, but I doubt that’s the case.”
“If I can’t, then I can’t,” Yang Guozhong said with a shrug. “I tried in the past, but it didn’t work. Now that you’ve sealed it with the heart lamp, unless Hongjun voluntarily descends into demonhood, there is nothing anyone can do. I already have three demon seeds of my own. I no longer require the body of the Peacock Wisdom King to become a demon, so there’s no harm in telling you the truth.”
“Two demon seeds,” Li Jinglong corrected.
“That’s right.” Yang Guozhong’s face grew overcast as he said coldly, “You destroyed the demon seed I so painstakingly created from one of my immortal souls in Dunhuang. I have yet to settle this score.”
Li Jinglong smiled. “Chancellor Yang—or should I say, Your Majesty, the yao king—it’s funny. I haven’t said a word against you, yet here you are leveling accusations at me.”
Yang Guozhong flicked his sleeves. “Would you prefer I hand over all three of my heart demons and help your little friend descend into demonhood now, free of charge?”
As Li Jinglong blanched, Yang Guozhong continued, “With your meager abilities, it was pure luck you managed to seal all the nightmares swirling within the mortal world. Anything more than that, and your heart lamp would have been destroyed. It’s good for a young man to have confidence in himself, but I suggest you not let it get to your head.”
“There will come a day when you can no longer retrieve the immortal souls you used to create the demon seeds,” Li Jinglong said quietly. “What kind of deal are you looking for?”
There was a long silence as Yang Guozhong studied Li Jinglong. At last, he said with a hint of real appreciation, “Marquis, you’re much smarter than I imagined.”
“The second of your demon seeds is in your body,” Li Jinglong said, placid as a cloudless sky. “Am I right?”
Yang Guozhong offered no answer. Hongjun said quietly, “Lu Xu possessed the world’s nightmares—that’s how you created his heart demon. In that case, what is feeding yours?”
Spotting a shift in Yang Guozhong’s expression, Li Jinglong knew Hongjun’s question had struck the mark. The black jiao Xie Yu had transformed his three immortal souls into heart demons. The first was meant to use the soul of the white deer residing within Lu Xu’s body to absorb the world’s nightmares. Likewise, the second—which he kept within his own body—must absorb pain and resentment from somewhere. As for the third—if Li Jinglong’s suspicions were correct, it was inside An Lushan.
Naturally, Yang Guozhong had no wish to divulge the method he used to refine his other heart demons. Instead, he cut straight to the point: “I want you to help me retrieve the third heart demon.”
“The one in An Lushan?” Li Jinglong asked—finally, they had discovered Yang Guozhong’s weakness.
“Correct.” Yang Guozhong nodded politely. “Ten years ago, when I turned my immortal souls into three demon seeds, I gave one of them to that bastard. An Lushan used a spiritual device to sever my link to my third immortal soul and take the energy it had absorbed for himself. Since then, he has become increasingly unmanageable. What I need is someone to kill him and release the heart demon trapped within his body.”
Hongjun found the situation unspeakably absurd. He had come to Chang’an to kill Xie Yu, yet not only had he failed to do so, now Xie Yu was asking them for a favor.
Li Jinglong shot Hongjun a glance. “Chancellor Yang, surely you’re aware that, to the Department of Exorcism, both Xie Yu and the heavenly demon are targets for elimination,” he said. “What makes you so sure we’ll agree to a deal?”
Yang Guozhong laughed—a short, sharp sound. “Marquis, forgive my bluntness, but you are the ones who forced my hand. If not for your meddling in the imperial mausoleums case, I would never have taken such a risk.”
“You flatter me,” Li Jinglong said. “What I mean is, what does it matter to the Department of Exorcism if An Lushan wants you dead?”
“I expected you to grasp my meaning the day I came to call,” Yang Guozhong said, a chill in his voice. “Given the abilities of your little band, subduing a single gu ape should have been child’s play.”
Hongjun looked at Li Jinglong in surprise.
Yang Guozhong had seen through him; Li Jinglong stopped trying to needle him and spoke frankly. “That’s right. This was the only way we could force you to come out and deal with this matter in person.”
“You don’t know this,” Yang Guozhong said, each word deliberate as he stepped closer, his aura billowing outward, “but even if I dearly wish to kill someone, I still must have a reason. I will not kill those with whom I am aligned. But An Lushan brings only death and destruction. As things stand, we are both backed into a corner; we must join forces to eliminate him.”
“Are these not the consequences of your own mistake?” Li Jinglong asked.
Yang Guozhong scrutinized him with narrowed eyes. “They are. What of it?”
“I can help you recover the third demon seed,” Li Jinglong said. “But surely you’re aware of the terms I’ll put forth.”
Yang Guozhong fixed Li Jinglong with an inscrutable look.
“Why are you so determined to become Mara?” Hongjun asked. “My dad was so resistant to it that he ended up harming me and my mother… But you—”
“That’s why I’ve changed my mind,” Yang Guozhong said.
Hongjun’s breath quickened as Yang Guozhong resumed his slow pacing around the perimeter wall. “I cannot meet your terms, Li Jinglong,” he said gravely. “If you demand too dear a price, I will only make you a low counteroffer. You see, I can simply wait another hundred years.”
He looked at Hongjun as he finished, and Hongjun understood in an instant: Yang Guozhong meant to wait until they were all dead.
A century in the human realm was nothing to a powerful yaoguai like Xie Yu, whose life could span hundreds, even thousands, of years. At most, it would be akin to a few years—perhaps a decade—in the life of an ordinary mortal. In a hundred years, Li Jinglong would have long since passed from this world; by then, the grudges of the past would no longer be so important. Hongjun could foresee that as soon as he and Li Jinglong died, Yang Guozhong would come to take his demon seed.
“And if I live past a hundred?” Hongjun asked coldly.
“You won’t.” Yang Guozhong gazed at Hongjun with a smile curling his lips. “Half yao like you have the same lifespan as ordinary mortals. This is ordained by the heavens—you cannot possess both divine powers and the wisdom of age. Perhaps I won’t even have to wait a hundred years. Feel free to make any posthumous arrangements you like; you can postpone this predestined war even further if you want.”
An inexplicable feeling of relief washed over Hongjun. Truth be told, he’d had no idea how long he would live. Chong Ming had never mentioned this, yet it had been a question he’d pondered on more than one occasion.
Li Jinglong glanced at him, then back at Yang Guozhong. “You must leave Chang’an,” he said, his voice low.
“Of course,” Yang Guozhong agreed. “After all, your mortal emperor is already a candle guttering in the wind. My reign in Chang’an is coming to an end. After he passes, I shall take Yuhuan away with me.”
Hongjun was instantly suspicious. Yang Guozhong was willingly giving up everything he’d built here? He could see only two possibilities: One, Yang Guozhong was lying; or two, unless he retrieved the heart demon from An Lushan, Yang Guozhong would soon die as well. Before he could comment, Li Jinglong stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. The silence stretched.
“I’ll need your decision sooner rather than later,” Yang Guozhong said at last.