Chapter 95:
Sealed Memories
VIOLENT DEMONIC energy burst from the young Hongjun. Li Jinglong crawled and stumbled toward him, leaving a trail of blood on the brick of the road.
He reached blindly toward Hongjun, who spread his arms and looked up at the boundless night sky. A writhing mass of black mist swirled within the heavenly and earthly meridians, funneling toward the center of Hongjun’s chest. More black mist billowed at his back, as if a dark, colossal beast was trying to break free of the cocoon that was his body.
A figure swooped down from the sky. Kong Xuan’s midnight-blue robes flared as he twisted in midair, transforming into a shining layer of armor. His muscular torso was fully covered by the gold-and-blue metallic scales as a winged helmet fashioned in the shape of a peacock materialized on his head.
He chanted, “The living are but transient guests; the dead are trav’lers homeward bound…”
A second deep voice rang down from the skies to join Kong Xuan’s: It was the black jiao, slithering through the clouds. He recited the next line of the demon-sealing incantation: “Alas, the world is just an inn; everything dust in the wind.”
“Seal!” Kong Xuan bellowed, fingers forming the Peacock Wisdom King Mahamayuri’s seal. Wielding the pentacolor sacred light in his left hand and the immortal-slaying saber in his right, he merged them into one shining weapon. Without hesitation, he brought the blade singing down on his son’s head.
Mara had broken free; this Hongjun did not fear Mahamayuri in the slightest. Wreathed in black fire, he let out a rasping growl. Flames shot toward Kong Xuan, and golden blood ran from his body. Despite his heavy injuries, he persisted in suppressing Hongjun’s demonic energy.
“All that converges… Gather!” The black jiao Xie Yu coiled and twisted in the air, transforming into Yang Guozhong. Little Hongjun hovered above the shattered brick of the alley, his back arching as tendrils of dark flame shot from his body like comets hurtling across the night sky, streaking toward Yang Guozhong. Yang Guozhong reaped the black flames, absorbing the demonic energy that surged without end.
Kong Xuan dove toward Hongjun, his hands glowing as he brought them together to form the Mahamayuri mudra, which he pressed to his son’s forehead.
Immediately, the dark flames winked out, and the whirling mass of demonic energy dissipated into the wind. Kong Xuan caught Hongjun in his arms as he plummeted toward the ground.
The young Li Jinglong sat stricken. He looked at Yang Guozhong, then at Kong Xuan. Yang Guozhong sneered as he took out an hourglass with a golden dragon coiled around it and shook it gently.
Time flowed backward in a miraculous display: The houses of Chang’an that had been demolished by Mara’s flames were repaired in a blink, brick and stone falling neatly back into place.
Li Jinglong stumbled toward Kong Xuan, who spoke no word of reprimand. He glanced at Yang Guozhong, then nodded, motioning for Li Jinglong to follow him. “Can you walk?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Li Jinglong answered.
“Just hang on a little while longer.”
“Is Chouxing…?”
“He’s fine. Now now, don’t cry.”
“Doctor Kong… Why is your blood—”
“Don’t ask.”
That night, Jia Yuze and Kong Xuan conversed in hushed voices till dawn. Li Jinglong, having taken his medicine for his internal injuries, kept watch beside an unconscious Hongjun’s bed. They left the boys alone; only after the sun rose did Jia Yuze enter, heaving a sigh. When she saw Li Jinglong fast asleep beside the bed, holding Hongjun’s hand, tears cascaded down her face.
Hongjun still hadn’t risen when it was time for breakfast. It took several kind reassurances from Kong Xuan that his son would be fine before Li Jinglong managed to nod and sit down to eat with them.
Jia Yuze looked at Li Jinglong and sighed again. “I know the two of you spend a lot of time together. Xing-er has always been lonely, so thank you for being his friend.”
Li Jinglong had thought the Kong family destitute, but upon careful observation, they weren’t poor in the typical way. Though they had very little, they didn’t seem to struggle for necessities.
“Are you all immortal?” Li Jinglong asked.
Jia Yuze shot Kong Xuan a look. Neither answered.
“Is Chouxing immortal too?” Li Jinglong pressed. “He told me there’s a monster inside his body. Is it true?”
“Chouxing must maintain a peaceful heart and mind,” Jia Yuze said. “Li Jinglong, you must ensure he doesn’t experience any strong emotion. He must be devoid of wants and desires to keep the heavenly demon in his heart suppressed.”
Kong Xuan sighed. “For you, Jinglong, this matter would be easily resolved if I simply sealed your memories—but it’s different for Xing-er. You might forget about him, but he’ll never forget about you. I fear I must ask you for a rather large favor.”
Li Jinglong’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Devoid of wants and desires,” Hongjun echoed to Lu Xu.
“With desire comes suffering,” Lu Xu explained. “Since the moment you were born, the demon seed of Mara has been ceaselessly absorbing the malign energies of the mortal world. The lonelier and more distressed you became in your childhood, the faster those energies overtook you.”
“Then…how did the demonic energy in me disperse?” Hongjun asked.
Lu Xu contemplated this before answering. “It dispersed, but it didn’t truly vanish.”
Hongjun nodded. “Xie Yu absorbed it.”
Lu Xu hummed in agreement. “Malign energies are inherently drawn to the demon seed. They flow toward it the way rivers course to the sea—and this demonic energy inside of you is precisely what Xie Yu is after.”
“What does he want it for, though?”
“This energy can manifest as spiritual power and fortify one’s cultivation base. Didn’t you notice? You unleashed such massive power. Thanks to the demonic energy you’d absorbed, you demonstrated at the age of seven a level of strength others would have to cultivate hundreds or even thousands of years to attain.”
Now Hongjun understood. “Chong Ming once said that when one cultivates to a certain level, they’ll ascend to immortality.”
“Xie Yu has cultivated for two thousand years, but he still can’t transform into a dragon,” Lu Xu said. “He needs more power to breach that threshold.”
The young Hongjun recovered within a few days, but he had no memory of what had happened that night. The last thing he recalled was Li Jinglong protecting him while being beaten up by a gang of thugs.
As soon as he woke up, he got a scolding from Jia Yuze. His parents and Li Jinglong had jointly agreed upon a story: They told him he’d been knocked out during the fight, and that Li Jinglong had carried him home. After delivering her lecture, Jia Yuze sent Hongjun to visit Li Jinglong with some medicine for his wounds to keep Hongjun from overthinking things. After all, this would only bring about more complications.
The two boys settled on Li Jinglong’s bed so Hongjun could apply the medicinal paste to Li Jinglong’s back. “Does it hurt?” he asked.
Li Jinglong was naked save for his underpants, revealing the raw wounds crisscrossed over his back. As Hongjun spread the salve, Li Jinglong craned his neck to look at him. He seemed to hesitate, as if he had something important to say.
“I took a nasty beating for you,” he said at last with a smile. “Don’t you think you should give Gege a kiss?”
Hongjun set the medicine down. He put his arms around Li Jinglong’s neck and leaned closer to peck his cheek.
Li Jinglong immediately flushed crimson. Hongjun, on the other hand, appeared unaffected. Looking back down, he scooped out another spoonful of medicine and tapped Li Jinglong’s side, instructing him to turn so he could tend to the bony expanse of his back.
The moment he turned away, Li Jinglong’s eyes widened, and his breath quickened.
“You’re so skinny,” Hongjun said. “Skinnier than my dad.”
“No way!” Li Jinglong objected. “I’m strong—look!” He turned to the side and stretched out his arms for Hongjun, showing off his childish muscles. “I beat six people up all by myself, and they had sticks!”
Humming agreeably, Hongjun spread more medicine on each extended arm. Li Jinglong’s gaze slid down his wounded arms to land on Hongjun’s face. Their eyes met.
Hongjun blinked. Tilting his head, Li Jinglong leaned forward gently; Hongjun mimicked him in confusion, still holding the bowl.
Moments before their lips brushed, Li Jinglong came to his senses and turned his face aside, touching the small of his back. “Here too.”
As soon as Hongjun finished applying the medicine, Li Jinglong shooed him off home. But Hongjun insisted on staying—he didn’t want to leave Li Jinglong alone.
“Go home and spend time with your mother.”
“But you’re going to school tomorrow, so I won’t get to see you.”
“I won’t go to school anymore,” said Li Jinglong, whose body truly was strong for his age. “When I grow up, I’ll join the army.”
And it was just as he said: Li Jinglong really did stop attending class from then on. Instead, he spent his days at home with Hongjun. When winter at last arrived in full force, Li Jinglong’s father returned, but all he did was sit in the house, drinking an excessive amount of wine.