“That black jiao is nothing but a usurper, a false dragon—he’ll never be a yao king! As if some reptile that crawled out of a cesspool could ever be worthy of that title!”
“But he defeated us in battle—this is an irrefutable fact,” Qing Xiong said grimly. “Unless we return and destroy him completely, the entire human realm will turn to ash the day Mara returns to lead the yao!”
“What does that have to do with me?!” Chong Ming shouted. “The humans abandon principles for the sake of profit! They took Lao-san4 and left his halfling son in my care for twelve years! Why should I have been forced to raise an orphan with human blood running through his veins?!”
“He is still Kong Xuan’s child!” Qing Xiong said, his voice low and filled with reproach. “Didn’t you have any regrets after Kong Xuan left?!”
“What is it that you think I should regret?!” Chong Ming practically roared his response. “Hongjun wouldn’t even be an orphan if that human hadn’t led Kong Xuan to his death!”
“There are indeed ingrates among the human race who abandon principles for the sake of profit, but there are also friends like Di Renjie!”
“Friends? What friends?!” Chong Ming sneered. “Even if there are, I won’t see Hongjun do anything for those humans’ sake! My answer is no!”
Qing Xiong’s voice trembled. “Kong Xuan possessed the power of both the demonic and the divine. As his child, Hongjun has inherited his pentacolor sacred light. He has the power to help the yao eradicate the black jiao, avenge his father, and destroy Mara’s reincarnation. Even if you try to keep him here for the rest of his life, it’s only a matter of time until he learns the truth!”
“The day we left the Central Plains,” Chong Ming began, voice low, “I told you I would no longer concern myself with the survival of the yao. And Mara? I only hope Mara returns and exterminates those damned humans once and for all!”
“Can you not be honest with yourself for once?! Chong Ming!” Qing Xiong stepped forward, his aura billowing outward. The atmosphere within the hall took on a dangerous quality. The teacups on the table clattered softly against each other and the latticed windows rattled in their frames as the two kings stared each other down.
They were interrupted by the soft press of footsteps outside.
Qing Xiong and Chong Ming retracted their auras and turned as one. Qing Xiong hurried to the door just in time to see Hongjun’s figure receding into the distance.
He sighed. “The last words you spoke to Kong Xuan all those years ago were ‘get out,’ and the next thing you knew, you were parted forever. If only you could have said something—anything—to convince him to stay, we wouldn’t be in this mess today.”
With that, Qing Xiong strode from the hall, leaving Chong Ming to stare out at the twilight beyond the door in a quiet daze.
Night descended, and the sky filled with stars, their silver light cascading like a waterfall over the Taihang Mountains.
The sound of footsteps rose behind him, but Hongjun remained motionless where he lay on a flat slab of rock near Sheshen Cliff. The surface of the rock sloped down toward the cliff’s edge; the slightest lapse in focus would send him tumbling into a bottomless chasm.
Qing Xiong climbed up and lay down beside him, and the two stared up at the glittering night sky in introspective silence.
“Is it true?” Hongjun suddenly asked.
“In your heart, you already know the answer.”
Hongjun’s breathing hitched, and Qing Xiong lifted a hand to cover the youth’s eyes. Clutching at Qing Xiong’s hand, Hongjun wiped his tears against the man’s palm.
“Does my dad hate me?” Hongjun’s voice was choked with sobs.
“What he says rarely reflects what he feels,” Qing Xiong said pensively. “You mustn’t hold his words against him. If he truly doesn’t wish to do something, there is no one in the world who can force him. The thing that I gave you earlier—do you have it with you?”
Hongjun shakily held out the pendant.
“You’ve always wanted to visit the human realm, have you not?” Qing Xiong said, taking the pendant from him. Its soft glow lit up half the mountain, a brilliant match for the star-spangled sky. Bathed in its brightness, Hongjun slowly regained his composure.
“Every time I come to visit, you throw a great tantrum, begging me to take you to the human realm with me,” Qing Xiong continued. “Now that you’ve grown up, I say, very well, go ahead—what have you to fear?”
Hongjun’s first reaction was joy, but at the thought of Chong Ming, his expression dimmed. He stared blankly at Qing Xiong, who had turned away to gaze into the pendant’s glimmering light.
“There is plenty of good food and fun to be had in the human realm—beautiful women, friends to drink with, music that rings for dozens of miles, lights that burn brightly through the night… So, go—go to that vast land of mortals. You won’t regret it.”
By the next day, the ancillary hall had been tidied up and the three thrones moved in temporarily. Chong Ming occupied the center seat, with Qing Xiong sitting to his left. Chong Ming’s expression was as chilly as ever as Hongjun approached.
Hongjun greeted him before respectfully moving to stand in a corner. “Dad.”
“I am not your father,” Chong Ming said, his voice devoid of emotion.
“You are,” Hongjun said, feeling uneasy as he looked up at Chong Ming. “You’re my dad.”
But Chong Ming looked away, his eyes falling on the third, empty throne. “You once asked me to whom this final seat belonged,” Chong Ming said solemnly. “Now I will give you your answer. Your birth father once sat in this chair. His name was Kong Xuan. Like Qing Xiong and me, he was one of the masters of Yaojin Palace. After he died, Qing Xiong brought you here. Now that you have grown up, it’s time you went back.”
“Went back where?” Hongjun asked.
“To wherever you came from.” Chong Ming’s voice was toneless.
“I belong here,” Hongjun said. “I’m not going anywhere.”