“He’s starting to summon his arrows,” Lu Xu said.
Mergen had impressed on them that if his arrows moved, it meant he had regained the ability to summon his spiritual device. This was their sign that he’d succeeded in gaining An Lushan’s trust—the first step in their plan.
“I have some not-so-good news,” A-Tai said grimly. “We may need to change our strategy.”
Lu Xu didn’t know what to say.
“We’ve cross-referenced our books and materials based on what you and Mergen saw,” Ashina Adarvan said. “The jewel you saw is indeed the sacred flame, but that’s only one of its many forms. It hasn’t appeared in its entirety. Aside from the Arms of Atar, which you encountered, there are several other manifestations. It will take the form that most suits An Lushan’s needs—whatever allows him to best unleash its power. The next time we strike, the flame may no longer be attached to his back.”
“The sacred flame is shapeless,” A-Tai agreed. “But now, I’m quite certain we can take it back.”
“Then before we strike,” Lu Xu said, “we need to know exactly what An Lushan has done with the sacred flame.”
Qiu Yongsi nodded, looking thoughtful. “An Lushan must be using it for us to have a chance to seal it. We’ll need to prepare a water-based spiritual device for that.”
Maybe, Lu Xu thought, it was fortunate Mergen had been captured by An Lushan. If he had recklessly fought on, it would have only ended in failure.
It was past noon when Hongjun groggily freed himself from Li Jinglong’s clinging embrace and rose to check on the others. He and Li Jinglong had fallen into bed the moment they’d returned last night, and Li Bai—who’d come with them—was still snoring in the main hall, his clothes in disarray.
Wen Bin, his condition greatly improved after Hongjun’s treatment, was sunbathing in the corridor.
“I’m already feeling so much better,” Wen Bin said when he saw Hongjun. “Your medicine worked wonders—young man, you’re my savior!”
Hongjun had him stick out his tongue for a look. “You weren’t sick; you were poisoned. I’ll make you an antidote. It’ll help, but whether the poison can be completely neutralized will depend on your luck.”
Hongjun went inside to decoct Wen Bin’s medicine. After their visit to the House of Peerless Beauty last night, he figured Wen Bin had fallen victim to lust poison from a peony yao—this was the key to making the antidote. Many yao were naturally toxic, and even the yao themselves might not know how to cure the humans they had unwittingly poisoned through intercourse. Capturing this Xiangyu and dragging her back here would be a waste of time and effort. Hongjun had therefore come up with a bold idea: combating poison with poison.
All yao energies corresponded with the eight gates of an ancient system of divination known as the Qimen Dunjia: the Gates of Growth, Harm, Repose, Retreat, Scenery, Death, Fear, and Beginnings. Flower yao, which embodied the aspects of flowering and fruiting, were especially known for their powers of lust and reproduction, which corresponded to the Gate of Growth. The lesions all over Wen Bin’s body were due to the constant ulceration and regrowth of his flesh.
The corpse ghosts, on the other hand, embodied the death of all things and possessed powers corresponding to the Gate of Death. One dose of corpse-ghost poison was enough to instantly transform growth and vitality into death and desolation.
Back in Liang Prefecture, Hongjun had marveled over the effects of the corpse ghosts’ poison. He’d asked Liu Fei for some strands of his hair, which he’d burned to ash, as well as a few droplets of blood, which he’d sealed in a vial.
Wen Bin saw Hongjun as a doctor capable of miracles, so he readily agreed to his idea. He’d try anything as long as this damned illness could be treated once and for all.
“I really do love her.” Wen Bin still seemed oblivious to the fact that his precious Xiangyu was a yaoguai. “Can you save her too? I’ll owe you a debt of gratitude all my life if you do.”
Hongjun hummed distractedly as he diluted the corpse poison again and again, fearful of harming Wen Bin. Even if he couldn’t cure his malady, he didn’t want to accidentally condemn the man to death. He could always observe the effects and slowly increase the dosage.
He added the diluted poison to a cup of wine, which he handed to Wen Bin.
“Being with her was the only time in my whole life I felt like I’d truly fallen in love,” Wen Bin said.
“Drink it,” Hongjun said. “You talk too much.”
Despite his blunt words, he found himself touched by Wen Bin’s reminiscence. Just as Wen Bin was about to drink the wine, Li Bai—who had apparently woken up—called, “Wine! There’s wine!”
Hongjun yelped, “You can’t drink that! It’s medicine—”
Li Bai snatched at the cup. Hongjun lunged forward to stop him, but Li Bai was surprisingly quick, faster even than Hongjun, and dodged. It was Hongjun’s first time failing to catch a mortal.
Pandemonium ensued in the yard. Fortunately, Li Jinglong had come running when he heard the commotion and intercepted Li Bai’s wrist before he could toss the wine back. Between Hongjun and Li Jinglong, the cup was removed from Li Bai’s grasp.
“There’s more wine in the main hall—help yourself,” Hongjun said quickly, then shoved the poisoned wine back into Wen Bin’s hand.
Wen Bin drank it all in a gulp, then cried, “I’m dying!”
Everyone turned in shock as he collapsed on the floor, face down. Hongjun immediately dropped to one knee to check on him.
“What medicine did you give him?” Li Jinglong asked.
Hongjun gave a succinct explanation while Li Bai laughed heartily. He walked through the front courtyard, reciting, “The living are but transient guests; the dead are trav’lers homeward bound. Alas, the world is just an inn; everything dust in the wind…”
Li Jinglong started in surprise. “Isn’t that the demon-sealing incantation Qing Xiong used?”
Hongjun was confused. “It’s his poem!”
“It’s also the demon-sealing incantation though, isn’t it?” Li Jinglong asked doubtfully.
Hongjun nodded. “Yeah.”
“Has Qing Xiong heard this poem before? When did Li Bai write it?”
“He’s in the main hall, so why don’t you ask him yourself?” Hongjun said as he rushed around. “I have a life to save here!”
This finally brought Li Jinglong back to his senses. He propped Wen Bin up and put a finger under his nostrils to check for breathing. “He’s still alive; don’t worry.”
Hongjun watched as purplish-red bruises like those seen on corpses gradually appeared all over Wen Bin’s body, as if engaging in a battle against the ulcers. Wen Bin’s flushed skin slowly darkened. Li Jinglong pressed his glowing palms to Wen Bin’s chest, ready to feed spiritual power into Wen Bin’s heart meridian to help him fight the poison.
Wen Bin’s body spasmed, yet his breathing grew stronger, and the lesions on his skin began to visibly shrink. Compared to the state he was in a moment ago, when he could barely breathe, he already seemed much better. They watched over him until at last his limbs fell still and he opened his eyes.
“That hurt like hell,” he said.
“It worked!” Hongjun exhaled a long sigh of relief.
Li Jinglong and Hongjun helped Wen Bin into a room where he could rest. When Wen Bin tried to drop to his knees, ready to kowtow to Hongjun, Li Jinglong stopped him. “Before you thank him, let me ask you this: How did you happen to meet my Hongjun?”
Hongjun was baffled. Surely their meeting had been a complete coincidence.
Wen Bin racked his brain. “Ah, that’s right, it was that blind man! Nine days ago, I met a blind man who told me I didn’t have long to live. He said when I fell sick, I should visit the doctor at Virtue Apothecary…”
Hongjun was once again amazed by Li Jinglong’s acuity. Li Jinglong seized Wen Bin’s arm, saying in a low voice, “Tell me, what did the blind man look like? What else did he say?”
“That… That’s it.” Wen Bin was still thinking hard. “Do you know him? He…was very pale, almost inhumanly so. I think he said something…”
Furrowing his brow, Li Jinglong recited an incantation and pressed the palm of one hand to Wen Bin’s forehead, taking Hongjun’s with the other.
There was a flash of white light, and Hongjun found himself in Wen Bin’s memories.