“We want to settle down here in Luoyang,” Xiangyu said. “Earthly energies are abundant here, and my sisters are weak after what they suffered under the control of the gu apes. I was hoping we could stay here a few days until we’ve recuperated.”
“The two of you are welcome here in the department headquarters. No one else will be here, anyway,” Li Jinglong said. “You can keep watch over this place for me in the meantime. If anything changes, I’ll send a message from Chang’an.”
Overjoyed, Xiangyu knelt again in gratitude, which Li Jinglong accepted calmly. This time, Yuan Kun did not tell him to reciprocate.
Hongjun looked at Li Jinglong with a smile. He thought back to what Yuan Kun had said. Xiangyu must have unintentionally saved his life—or would do so in the future—which was why he had commanded them to kowtow to each other just now.
“Now that you’re done here, it’s time for you to return to Chang’an,” Yuan Kun said.
Sensing that Yuan Kun had more to say to them, Li Jinglong immediately packed his things. He instructed Hongjun and Li Bai to follow suit, and the three of them departed for Chang’an before the sun had set.
Once outside the gates of Luoyang, Yuan Kun dove into the Luo River and transformed into a massive fish. The three of them rode on its back as it cut through the wind and water, making for the Yellow River.
This was Hongjun’s first time riding on a yao king’s back while sober, and he couldn’t help but exclaim in wonder. Li Bai said jovially, “I traversed famous mountains and majestic rivers all my life in search of immortals, only to experience such a wonder right here in the Central Plains—how marvelous!”
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Yuan Kun said coolly. “You’re getting oblivion pollen when you arrive.”
As Li Bai looked at the kun in confusion, Hongjun’s mouth twitched. He glanced at Li Jinglong, who motioned for Hongjun to leave it to him.
The moon rose over the mountains in the east, bathing the Luo River in its silver glow. It was full dark when the divine kun neared the Yellow River. Seeing how deserted the area was, without any trace of human habitation, he leapt high into the night sky and soared into the sea of clouds.
“Wow!” Hongjun exclaimed.
Li Bai sat on the divine kun’s tail, drinking wine by himself. Li Jinglong, preoccupied with his own thoughts, sat beside Hongjun on the kun’s head as the wind gusted past them. Finally, curiosity got the better of him. “Are you heading back to Chang’an with us?”
No. Yuan Kun’s voice spoke again in their minds. With my injuries, I’m not Xie Yu’s match.
Shocked, Hongjun asked, “What do you mean, you’re not his match?”
The way he saw it, Chong Ming was the most powerful yao there was, and although Qing Xiong was slightly less powerful, he wasn’t too shabby either. The divine kun was surely at least on par with Qing Xiong. Why were all three of these great yao so wary of Yang Guozhong?
Atop the kun’s head, the glowing silhouette of a young man materialized—it was Yuan Kun, or rather, part of the kun’s soul that resembled his human form. Back to Li Jinglong and Hongjun, he looked out over the boundless sea of clouds.
“Xie Yu possesses a priceless treasure,” Yuan Kun replied. “It has the power to turn back time and manipulate the endless cycle of cause and effect—what we call the karmic cycle. This spiritual device can disrupt the futures I have foreseen, which is why I cannot guess when he will appear. Nor can I predict any cause or effect within the karmic cycles he has tampered with.”
Eagerly, Li Jinglong said, “This is exactly why I wanted to ask you—”
“I know what you want to ask,” Yuan Kun said. “When I passed the heart lamp to Qing Xiong, I foresaw that you’d fight Hongjun under a torrential rain.”
Hongjun was shocked. Even Li Jinglong couldn’t find the right words for a moment. So Yuan Kun had predicted the heart lamp would come to Li Jinglong from the beginning.
“Everything that’s happened…” Hongjun said, a tremble coming into his voice. “Was it all part of your plan?”
A furrow had appeared between Li Jinglong’s brows. The revelation that his fate was in someone else’s hands made him feel as if he’d been made the butt of a cruel joke.
“Cause and effect give rise to each other in an endless cycle,” Yuan Kun explained. “Two thousand years ago, after I met Zhuangzi,13 I gained the ability to see these threads of causality. There is a saying among humans: All turns of fortune are predestined by the heavens. Their workings must not be divulged lest calamity follow. Yet when facing one fork in the road after another, it’s clear that even destiny and fate are calculable outcomes.”
At last he turned toward them. “Do you know how to read the Flying Star Chart?”
“Somewhat,” Li Jinglong said.
Hongjun, too, had heard of this diagram. Fortune tellers in the Han dynasty had once made calculations based on the Flying Star Chart to predict the change of seasons and foretell fates—but these spiritual techniques had long been lost. Yuan Kun stepped forward and settled cross-legged before them. The piece of his soul they conversed with had manifested without his corporeal body, and the black blindfold he usually wore was gone, revealing the brilliant stars glittering in his dark eyes.
“First, one of the chart’s nine squares is chosen as the starting point—the beginning of a karmic cycle. Calculations proceed following a path that passes through all nine squares; all outcomes intersect and give rise to new ones. In this way, all consequences of an action taken, no matter how great or small, can be predicted, one after another,” Yuan Kun explained. “Hongjun acquiring the heart lamp is a cause, as is his journey down the mountain and battle with Fei’ao. Cause and effect intersect and evolve into new possibilities; as long as the calculations are made correctly, he is destined to encounter Li Jinglong in an alleyway in Chang’an.”
Only with this did Li Jinglong’s discomfort begin to subside. “Does the advice you offered Hongjun factor into this karmic cycle?”
“No, I don’t factor into it,” Yuan Kun answered calmly. “You, on the other hand, were long since fated to meet Hongjun. If we delve into your pasts, it’s obvious your fate and Hongjun’s have always been closely intertwined. I merely added a bead to the chart and worked the abacus, and this ‘bead’ was the heart lamp.”
Listening, Hongjun felt he’d been enlightened—Yuan Kun had divulged a profoundly esoteric secret about the workings of the cosmos. He had no time to ponder this, however, as Li Jinglong asked, “When did our fates first intersect?”
“This tale begins during the era of gods four thousand years ago, when Mahamayuri and Acalanatha clashed in a battle that shook the earth,” Yuan Kun said. “I will allow you to ask me three more questions, Li Jinglong, so think carefully.”
“Why?” Li Jinglong asked in confusion.
“For each person, only three causal factors may be added to this.” Yuan Kun held out his palm, and a glowing cube materialized above it. Thousands of beads whirred within the nine-by-nine cube as it expanded until it seemed to swallow heaven and earth. As they watched, it appeared to absorb the energies flowing through the heavenly and earthly meridians, which bounced and collided against one another within its walls.
“That was your first question,” Yuan Kun said.
“That doesn’t count!” Hongjun yelped.