Chapter 104:
Demonic Flames Corrode the Heart
THE QUIET SOBS of a boy echoed in a dark, gloomy cave, rising and falling amid the grief-filled howls of the wolves huddled around him. The boy curled on the cold ground, a puddle of tears and snot under his cheek and an arrow impaling his chest, its sharp head protruding from his back. Uncontrollable tremors racked his body, and a low whimper rattled in his throat—the last sounds of a creature nearing death. On the walls of the cave above him was painted a vivid mural—The Jataka of the Deer King.
The deer king, its snow-white coat adorned with nine tufts of different colors, stepped out from the mural, and the wolves cleared a path leading to young Mergen, sprawled face down on the ground.
“For humans, living in the mortal world is like being tangled within a thicket of thorny vines,” the deer said. Its antlers emitted a gentle glow that enveloped the dying boy. The hazy, blue-gray outline of a wounded wolf materialized around Mergen’s body and looked up at the deer.
“Go,” the deer said gently. “Although this thicket of thorns and vines seems boundless, it will eventually come to an end.”
It bowed its head and nuzzled the gray wolf’s neck, the gentle light of its antlers healing the wolf’s wounds. The boy Mergen pushed himself up with difficulty, and the white deer exploded into a galaxy of stars that streamed out of the cave.
Mergen rose and walked out into the forest, melting into the trees under the pale light of dawn.
The first rays of morning light slanted into the Anxi Barracks, falling between Mergen’s brows. He opened his eyes and sat up, mind still filled with his dream.
The door of his cell opened, and a tall man outside called, “Mergen. The governor wants you.”
Mergen sat in a corner of his cell, the telltale welts of a whip crisscrossing the skin of his bare shoulders. His nailhead arrows had been confiscated, and he had not one spiritual device on him. The chains around his wrists and ankles, forged from rare metals, sent up a series of discordant clangs as he shuffled to the main hall.
An Lushan had dismissed most of his attendants, leaving only two men clad in black standing on either side of him.
“I know your father,” An Lushan said without preamble. “Qiyad Baghatur, Anbusi’er—the chieftain of the northern Shiwei tribes.”
Mergen raised his head as An Lushan continued, “We fought on different sides of the war. I heard he has a son known as the morning star of the plains.” Mergen frowned slightly. “They said the boy later vanished; I figured he went to the Central Plains. Why did you come here?”
“You know very well why I’ve come, demon.”
An Lushan’s guffaws shook the couch he sat on. “To kill me? I don’t think so.”
“To the governor,” said one of the black-clad men at his shoulder, “the territory of Qiyad Baghatur’s tribe is barely the size of an ant, razed to the ground with a flick of a finger. There are fewer than fifteen thousand people in your tribe, and not even eight thousand of them are men fit to go to war. Not to mention your tribe ceded territory to the Khitan ten years ago in exchange for peace, so you could recuperate and rebuild.”
An Lushan sneered. “One command from me, and fifty thousand cavalrymen will ride northward. We’ll wipe your tribe off the map in a month.”
“You’re right.” Mergen nodded. “In fact, you wouldn’t even need to send any troops. You could just unleash your demonic energy on the banks of the Karsi River, and all the people of my tribe, young and old, would perish.”
“I don’t believe it will come to that,” An Lushan said with a genial smile. “If you join me, your tribe will no longer need to fear for their lives. Years from now, they could be thriving as my most loyal subjects.”
“If I told you now that I’m willing to defect to your side, would you believe me?” Mergen asked coldly, studying An Lushan.
The governor bellowed out another beastly laugh. He scrutinized Mergen, then rose from his couch. Letting his hulking figure tower over him, he said in a low voice, “I know what Li Jinglong’s searching for. Unfortunately, you’ve all been looking in the wrong place.”
Mergen’s eyes widened as An Lushan pressed a palm to his chest. A tendril of demonic energy curled around him. Without warning, the black wisp dove into Mergen’s chest and yanked out his heart.
His agonized scream rang through the room.
Mergen’s heart emitted a gray-blue glow as corrosive demonic energy rushed into it in an endless stream. Mergen’s eyes snapped open, and he stared vacantly at his heart hovering in midair.
“If you could do it, why didn’t you?”
“Your arrows can reach where other weapons cannot.”
“One shot, and you could avenge your mother.”
“I see now!” An Lushan let out a deranged laugh as an image took shape in Mergen’s mind: a younger Mergen on one knee before someone’s sickbed. His hatred from thirteen years ago wove through visions of a sea of blood, twisting into a pulsing web of obsidian veins that gradually wrapped around Mergen’s beating heart.
Mergen convulsed on the ground, unable to speak.
“What lies within the deepest recesses of your soul?” An Lushan’s voice deepened to a guttural rasp.
“Monster…”
“A monster!”
Eyes filled with terror flickered in front of Mergen. He’d accidentally tripped one of his younger brothers while teaching him on the archery range. He extended a hand with a smile, ready to help him up, but the boy scrambled away in fear.
Later, his father’s wives turned cold gazes on him in the tent. His father beckoned him over and slapped him across the face. Mergen took the blow in silence.
The image shifted again. A gray wolf bounded freely across the rooftops of a moonlit Chang’an, carrying Hongjun on his back.
“Mergen?” Hongjun whispered.
“Hm?” The gray wolf slowed and turned its head.
Hongjun signaled him to continue running. “Are you a yao?”
“Of a sort,” the gray wolf replied. “This ability hasn’t appeared in my tribe for nearly a century. I don’t know exactly what I am, either. Don’t tell A-Tai and the others.”
The wolf hadn’t wanted Li Jinglong to overhear too much of their conversation. When they came to a courtyard, he bounded up the wall and leapt onto the rooftops. The dark clouds over Chang’an slowly parted to reveal a bright moon. The gray wolf ran silently along the rooftops with the young man on his back.
“You won’t arrest me, will you?” the wolf asked.
Hongjun laughed and leaned down to the wolf’s ear. “I’m half yao, too.”
“Hm?” The gray wolf flicked his ear, surprised. “You don’t seem like one.”
“My dad was a—”
“Shh,” the wolf said. “You don’t need to tell me. My dad once said there isn’t much difference between humans and yao; the only real difference is between good and evil.”
The vision shifted. An old shaman wielding a staff murmured in front of a crackling fire. “What difference is there between humans and yao? The true difference is between good and evil—so what if you are yao?”
Obsidian flames surged up, thoroughly obscuring the images of Mergen’s past. An Lushan formed a seal with his fingers, and the corroded heart—now pitch-black—shot back into Mergen’s chest. With a final shudder, Mergen collapsed on the floor.
The carp yao, hiding outside the window, peeked into the room once before slowly retracting his head.
“Get up.” One of the black-clad men supported Mergen as he slowly got to his feet.
An Lushan looked at him with interest. “If you want to kill the emperor of Great Tang, why have you not already done so?”
Mergen’s whole body was bathed in black flames, which slowly sank into his skin and disappeared. He raised his head and met An Lushan’s gaze, his eyes now gleaming with twin clusters of whirling flames as dark as obsidian.
“Where is the last arrow?” An Lushan asked, his voice deep.
The other black-clad man presented a wooden tray holding six nailhead arrows. Mergen hovered a hand over the tray, and the arrows began to rattle as they vibrated.
At the same moment, the seventh arrow—now bound to Lu Xu’s wrist with a length of red string—started trembling. It rose in the air, pointing resolutely in one direction.
A-Tai, Ashina Adarvan, and the others were huddled in discussion when Lu Xu hurried out and motioned for them to come look. The nailhead arrows had been forged in ancient times from extremely pure gold from the west. Like Hongjun’s immortal-slaying knives, they were capable of forming a bond with their master. Spiritual devices like these possessed formidable spiritual energy. As for how Mergen had made the arrows recognize him as their master, it remained a mystery.