Chapter 105:
Investigating the Garden
WEN BIN was walking swiftly through the marketplace in Luoyang when Yuan Kun, blindfolded and hobbling from his injuries, stumbled and fell into him. As Wen Bin quickly steadied the stranger, the man said to him, “Seven days from now, your life will be at risk. Virtue Apothecary alone can save you. When you come out of it alive, seek me out at Alkaid.”
Wen Bin and Yuan Kun then went their separate ways. The white light retracted, and Li Jinglong and Hongjun were pulled out of Wen Bin’s memory.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Hongjun asked in surprise.
“The ghost king taught me,” Li Jinglong replied. “It only works on some mortals; anyone with spiritual power or even higher than average physical strength will be immune.” He began to pace around the hall, musing, “Alkaid… What could that be?”
“Wait.” Hongjun was still catching up. “How did you even think of doing that?”
“The divine kun can see the future. Nine days ago, he foresaw we’d arrive in Luoyang, so he asked us for help through this man.”
“I can see that now. But what made you think it was a possibility?”
Li Jinglong considered it. “It was Taibai-xiong’s poem.”
This statement left Hongjun as confused as ever.
Li Jinglong could sense, vaguely, that the divine kun’s ability to see the future was extremely powerful. If humans, yao, and Mara were all actors on a grand stage, then it was very likely that the divine kun was the only one who could flip the script—in fact, he might even be the one controlling this entire course of events from behind the scenes.
This was why Li Jinglong had raced for Luoyang with Hongjun, instead of staying in Chang’an to deal with An Lushan. He had many questions for the divine kun. At first, he’d only wanted to ask about the past, specifically Mara’s history and how it came to be. As they said: Know thine enemy, and thou shalt go undefeated. Now, however, he wondered if he ought to ask what the future held, too.
The demon-sealing incantation Qing Xiong had used was a line from Li Bai’s poem. Li Jinglong was certain this poem couldn’t have been written more than seven years ago—he hadn’t heard of it when he first got to know Li Bai. Yet Qing Xiong seemed to have learned it even earlier than that.
Why would Qing Xiong know a poem Li Bai hadn’t yet written?
There was only one explanation: The divine kun had learned the incantation while looking into the future. Who had first spoken this incantation? Surely Li Bai hadn’t drunkenly sealed a demon. Someone must have instead co-opted this poem for a new spiritual technique.
“I’ll explain as we walk,” Li Jinglong said. “Let’s go.”
Hongjun instructed Wen Bin to stay and watch over headquarters. To their surprise, Li Bai—who had imbibed some hair of the dog earlier that morning—was hale and clear-eyed. “Where are you going? Take me with you!”
The poet had trimmed his beard, leaving only dusky sideburns, and combed his hair back. He appeared before them now in dark-blue martial robes with wide sleeves, and had exchanged his sword for a saber that hung at his waist. Charmingly handsome and elegant, he looked nothing like a man in his forties.
Li Jinglong beckoned him over, inviting him to walk with them. When he finished explaining everything, Li Bai seemed unsurprised. “If we happen across any yaoguai, let me kill some, okay?”
This was Li Bai, so of course Hongjun’s answer was something that could be summed up as, Yes, yes, of course, you’re always right, I’ll protect you no matter what. Li Jinglong didn’t know whether he should laugh or roll his eyes.
“Well, in that case, let me go get myself a catty of wine first,” Li Bai said.
Thus Hongjun and Li Jinglong were left to cool their heels as Li Bai went and bought his wine.
“The Alkaid the divine kun mentioned is outside the city,” Li Jinglong said to Hongjun. “Make sure you keep an eye on Taibai-xiong.”
“What other spiritual techniques do you know?” Hongjun studied Li Jinglong doubtfully, sure he must have secretly learned more while Hongjun wasn’t looking.
Li Jinglong shrugged, palms up. “Nothing else, really.”
But after some thought, he snapped his fingers and flung out his hands. With a rustle, every arrow in the quiver on his back flew out and scattered in the air.
“Even the nailhead arrow spiritual technique?!” Hongjun was stunned.
“But I can only release the arrows, not call them back.”
The sight of the arrows hurtling through the air was impressive, but once fallen, they had to be collected one by one. As they busied themselves with this, Hongjun asked again, “Anything else?”
“Nothing else. I mean it this time.”
Noticing that Li Jinglong was still looking rather smug, Hongjun left it at that. Perhaps he would show off whatever other tricks he had up his sleeve later.
As the three of them made their way to the city gates, Hongjun thought again about the divine kun’s powers. To think Li Jinglong had come to Luoyang for this purpose. “Perhaps he can tell us about our future.”
“Do you really want to know?” Li Jinglong asked.
While Hongjun hesitated, Li Bai, who had been silent since buying his wine, cut in. “If it were me, I’d rather not.”
Hongjun hummed in immediate agreement. “Of course you’re right.”
Have you lost your wits? Li Jinglong swallowed his complaints. He didn’t want to scold Hongjun, so he instead turned to Li Bai. “Even if someone knows the ending, they usually can’t guess how it came to be.”
“That’s true.” Li Bai smiled. “Whatever else happens, one cannot escape death.”
When the trio arrived at their destination on a hill outside the city, Li Jinglong nudged Hongjun. “Look down there, at the seven heavenly landmarks of Luoyang. We’re at ‘Alkaid,’ aren’t we?”
Hongjun gazed out at the horizon. Seven landmarks stood in the divine capital Luoyang, forming the shape of the Northern Dipper. They stretched from the soaring pillar called the Axis of Heaven, to the Tower of Heaven, all the way to the northern outskirts of the city. The northernmost star in the pattern, Alkaid, was symbolized by Mount Longmen, at the foot of which lay the Longmen Grottoes.
“There’s nothing here…” Li Jinglong hiked to a higher spot and looked around. The Luo River flowed below them just a short distance away.
“Looking at this scenery, inspiration surges within me…” Li Bai said.
Hongjun turned to him, eyes sparkling.
“Taibai-xiong, we’re busy right now,” Li Jinglong said. “Let’s leave the poetry for later.”
“Very well,” Li Bai answered.
For a moment, Hongjun was too outraged to speak. Then he cried, “Do you know what you’ve done? Now there’ll be one less poem that will go down in history!”
Amused, Li Jinglong said, “Poems are less important to me than the safety of Luoyang and the Divine Land. I can compose you one as compensation when I have the time later, okay?”
Can you, though? Hongjun thought doubtfully. But a beat later, his heart stuttered in his chest. He’d always felt Li Jinglong knew how to do everything well. What if it turned out he was better at writing poetry than Li Bai…? No, no, no, that’s impossible!
“Compose one now then, if you’re so capable,” Hongjun said, suspicious.
“Later. Focus on the case.”
Li Jinglong finally succeeded in diverting Hongjun’s attention, though he’d made an impossible promise in the process. Who in the world would dare compete against Li Bai when it came to poetry? Hongjun’s look of anticipation made Li Jinglong shiver.
“Could that be the spot you’re looking for?” Li Bai pointed toward a peony garden about fifty paces away. “You said it was flower yao, didn’t you? Maybe they’re hiding themselves in a garden.”
“You’re so smart!” Hongjun marveled.
Li Jinglong was speechless. Not only had he failed to compose a poem, now Li Bai had also shown him up as the star detective of the Department of Exorcism. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus as they arrived at the garden’s gates.