Chapter 42: Sudden Change Part 4

“Prepare to set out,” Xiao Kun said, his brows knitted in embarrassment and anger. “Wake Chaosheng and head back to the city. No more sleeping.”

Chaosheng, bleary-eyed, finally stirred awake from the laughter. As he emerged from the tent, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Xiao Kun is ‘throwing a little tantrum,'” Xiang Xian teased.

“You just wait,” Xiao Kun said as he vigorously wiped his face twice. Though they had kissed deep in the cave before, no one else had been present then. Now that Wu Yingzong and Hulü Guang had seen it, he felt even more embarrassed.

As the group set out, several horses appeared at the end of the canyon. Two War Dead Corpse Ghosts arrived outside the camp.

One was Wang Zongshi, the Myriad Commander who had once led troops to rescue Zheng Yong. The other was Zheng Yong himself.

“His Majesty ordered my brother Yong and me to come assist you all,” Wang Zongshi said. “During this time operating in the Western Regions, we shall strictly follow His Highness’s instructions.”

Xiang Xian: “Oh, His Highness?”

“Don’t call me Your Highness,” Xiao Kun said, having regained his composure.

Wang Zongshi then led over Skeletal Warhorses and handed them to the group, clearly prepared for them by Jing Pian Ge.

“Before defeating Mr. Liu, the Zenggu Drum shall be managed by… Lord Xiao,” Zheng Yong said, still able to understand speech. “But given its grave importance, after retrieving the Great Si Ming Flute, please return it as well.”

“I have no use for this broken Rattle Drum,” Xiao Kun said bluntly. He already harbored resentment toward his father for arriving only at the last moment, and after spending time together, he had picked up some of Xiang Xian’s tone. “Take the Magic Treasure back now.”

Zheng Yong’s murky eyes swiveled as he looked to Wang Zongshi for help.

Wang Zongshi bowed without speaking, subtly positioning himself in front of Zheng Yong.

Xiang Xian saw that these two War Dead Corpse Ghosts shared an unusual bond, so he laughed it off and signaled Xiao Kun not to vent his anger on the subordinates.

“Head back to Gumo first,” Xiang Xian said. “Rest up before anything else. I’m starving. Back in the Abyss Divine Palace, I nearly wanted to eat Mr. Liu.”

The group mounted up and departed along Kuqa Canyon. Though they rode Skeletal Warhorses, the mounts ran very steadily. Chaosheng kept worrying they would fall apart.

“What era are you from?” Chaosheng asked Wang Zongshi.

“I am a ghost,” Wang Zongshi replied. “You should ask what era’s ghost.”

Zheng Yong said: “Big Brother is from the Han Dynasty, and I hail from Tianshui during the Wei-Han period.”

“Wow,” Chaosheng said. “That’s quite some years. But I remember Yuzhou telling me that the War Dead Corpse Ghost Clan has several kings.”

Wang Zongshi said: “The War Dead Corpse Ghost Clan originally stemmed from the Corpse Immortal Drought Fiend. Later, during the Former Qin and Eastern Jin periods, your Human Race’s Grand Demon-Exorcist Chen Xing recruited many Drought Fiends into the fold. Each faction has its own king. Two Ghost Kings once negotiated to take turns guarding a great Magic Treasure every five hundred years. For the most recent five hundred, it fell to Ghost King Tuoba Yan, but he entered the Netherworld alone, leaving Lord Jing Pian Ge to act in his stead.”

Chaosheng knew many tales of the War Dead Corpse Ghost Clan and asked more: “What about Meng Tian? Where is he?”

“They are the Eastern Army,” Wang Zongshi said. “They operated around Shazhou and Yadan before vanishing somewhere. Are you an Immortal?”

Chaosheng said: “I come from Kunlun Mountain.”

Wang Zongshi and Zheng Yong rode side by side, and Chaosheng was very curious about them—this was his first real exchange with War Dead Corpse Ghosts. He asked many questions, including “How did Mr. Liu command you?” “Do you sleep most of the time?” “Do you dream when you sleep?” and so on.

“Your father is the only one who knows that secret,” Xiang Xian rode alongside Xiao Kun, overhearing their discussion. A thought suddenly struck him. “Do you think in previous cycles, he did the same thing—reminded us?”

“I don’t know,” Xiao Kun said. “Nor do I know how the Wheel of Fate was stolen.”

“Hm.” Xiang Xian thought for a moment and said, “Can I come over? It’s easier to talk this way.”

Xiao Kun: “Come on, then. I hope this horse doesn’t fall apart.”

And so Xiang Xian joined Xiao Kun on his mount.

“Hold onto me.”

“Don’t squirm! Just talk properly.”

Xiao Kun rode behind, with Xiang Xian seated in front. Xiao Kun wrapped his arms around Xiang Xian’s waist, holding the reins.

Xiang Xian turned his head, their faces very close, feeling each other’s breath.

“Let me guess: after the Wheel of Fate was taken, your father must have panicked,” Xiang Xian said. “After all, it started because of him.”

“It can’t all be blamed on him. King Mu came prepared…” Xiao Kun said. “Your face is too close! Keep this up and go back to your own horse.”

Xiang Xian hurriedly said, “Alright, alright.” He had nearly kissed Xiao Kun’s lips just now. For some reason, ever since they collided in the cave last time, Xiang Xian kept thinking about the feel of kissing his lips. Xiao Kun’s were soft and comfortable, making Xiang Xian want to taste them openly.