“What?!”
The shout startled A Huang, who flapped away.
“You… didn’t bring the box back?” Zhao Gou asked incredulously.
“Sudden events—too late by then.” Xiang Xian said.
On the return, Xiang Xian pieced it together: In ancient times, some master slayer beheaded the being called Shuhu and sealed its head in the Bronze Casket. Over eons, the seal decayed with the bronze, loosening enough for the head to speak. Soon, the seal would fail entirely.
Even without release, Shuhu would escape. He and Xiao Kun had merely stumbled into it.
But was it truly fated, as Shuhu claimed? Xiang Xian grew uneasy. Two years—two years until calamity struck Great Song and Shenzhou alike.
Zhao Gou looked lost.
“That Xiao Kun tricked me. Before I could sort it, he asked his questions and smashed the box to bits,” Xiang Xian explained helplessly. “No evidence left now, sigh! But thinking back, it probably wouldn’t have come with me anyway.”
Zhao Gou, never seeing Shuhu, half-believed Xiang Xian’s retelling, not contradicting: “Right, locked so long—once the box opens, it runs first.”
Xiang Xian still puzzled over Shuhu’s nature.
“Not entirely.” Xiang Xian explained. “All things in the world link in cause and effect. We gave it freedom—the ’cause’ on me and Xiao Kun. If Shuhu ignored it and fled, the matter wouldn’t end. We say ‘one good turn deserves another’—after millennia imprisoned, such a great boon unbound demands repayment, or calamity follows. It knew that.”
Zhao Gou nodded; silence fell.
Butler Wu Yingzong returned.
Xiang Xian raised a brow. Wu Yingzong reported: “Lord Guo says he’s busy lately—Master should decide himself, no need to consult.”
Xiang Xian rubbed his forehead.
Zhao Gou: “But I think Father… won’t believe it. Not only that, he might even…”
Xiang Xian: “Only two years left, Your Highness. So many in Kaifeng—how many survive the cataclysm? How many die unjustly? The Official Family drinks and paints in the palace all day, plays with stones and words. If he doesn’t wake up, even he might not live!”
Speaking thus, Xiang Xian recalled Shuhu’s “Imperial clan annihilated, sheep-led captives,” a chill down his spine.
The sheep-leading rite was barbarian custom: Captured enemy emperor and clan stripped naked, draped in sheepskin, paraded to ancestral temples as human sacrifices.
Thus, even the Daojun Emperor would not escape.
Zhao Gou had some sense: “But… if Heaven’s Mandate is inevitable, how can we two stop it?”
“Right,” Xiang Xian nodded. “Makes sense.”
Zhao Gou smiled sheepishly: “Big Brother, you’re not teasing me?”
Xiang Xian: “No. I’m thinking—why not go with the flow?”
Zhao Gou: “…………”
Not wrong—Shuhu’s first answer on Great Song’s fall ended with two hundred thousand troops and civilians… jumping into the sea, from Xiao Kun’s Liao query. No solutions given, so why cling?
Only the second and third questions offered turning points. Yet Xiang Xian sensed Song’s peril tied inextricably to the Heavenly Demon’s reincarnation.
Zhao Gou looked troubled: “Truth be told, Father and brothers feud openly. Court splits into factions; some ministers even babble of the Maritime Alliance.”
“Zhao Gou,” Xiang Xian said gravely, “I don’t care about your family drama.”
“Only two years,” Xiang Xian said. “Big Brother’s busy—dealing with the Heavenly Demon. Mortals handle mortal affairs. I must warn the Official Family; if he ignores, that’s his problem—but I can’t stay silent.”
Zhao Gou: “Fine.”
“Even without escorting me,” Xiang Xian added sternly, “with my skills, can’t I see your father?”
“No! Absolutely no trespassing!” Zhao Gou startled, yielding lest Xiang Xian scale Wansui Mountain Imperial Palace at midnight, drag the emperor from bed by the ear, and yell at him.
Watchman’s clappers sounded outside—third watch. Zhao Gou, mind in turmoil, sobered by wine, rose and exited. His attendants waited in the lane beyond the Exorcism Division gate, some standing, some sitting.
“Go on, then. I’ll await your news.” Xiang Xian casually dismissed the imperial prince.
Zhao Gou glanced back at Xiang Xian, as if he had something to say, but in the end, he mounted his horse and returned to the palace.
Once the guest had left, A Huang finally flew back and perched on the golden bird stand.
“A Huang, how much of Shuhu’s words do you think were true, and how much false?” Xiang Xian pondered as he sipped his wine.
“If you’ve already decided in your heart,” A Huang replied, “then it was all true.”
Xiang Xian said, “I just didn’t expect it to come so soon.”
Xiang Xian still harbored a sliver of hope, but he knew full well that Shuhu’s words were no lie. He and Xiao Kun had joined forces to free this demon sealed away for thousands of years from its prison, granting it freedom. Logically and emotionally, it had no reason to deceive him—especially since everything it mentioned was knowledge he himself lacked.
“Didn’t you go to the Wushan Mountains?” A Huang asked with slight puzzlement. “Back when Shen Kuo had just passed not long before.”
Xiang Xian recalled the past. On his dying day, his esteemed master Shen Kuo had instructed him to find a Heart Lamp at the right time, cooperate with the Heart Lamp Holder to command all the exorcists under heaven, and then take his Wisdom Sword deep into the Wushan Mountains to seek out a massive prehistoric demon beast known as the Ba She. Legend held that within its body lay a Demon Seed, which would absorb the baleful qi of the human world and give birth to a new Heavenly Demon.
