The Iron Will of Genie Lo (The Epic Crush of Genie Lo 2)

“So this is how it is,” the voice on the other end wailed. “She doesn’t even want to speak to me anymore. She pretends I don’t exist to my face. Aiyaaa . . .”

The lamentations went on and on, but it sounded like the queen was functioning through them. In fact, it sounded like she was walking to a different room and taking along whatever communication terminal she was using. I didn’t know what the metaphysical layout of the Heavenly Palace looked like, but right now I was imagining a small ranch house. We’d called the outdated cordless phone in the den.

“My other girls aren’t so busy with their work that they can’t spare a moment to talk to me,” the queen bemoaned to no one in particular, but intentionally loud enough that we could still hear. “Where did I go wrong with this one?”

“She sure sounds like your actual mother,” I whispered to Guanyin.

The Goddess of Mercy gave me a look so dirty that Quentin had to roll his chair back from the table. But I resisted it without flinching. There were only so many times she could do that to me without me getting used to it.

Suddenly the background noise coming from the conference phone changed in pitch from the echoes of a small domicile to the roar of a cavernous stadium. This new location was large enough to house hundreds or even thousands of voices, all of which were jabbering away simultaneously. The Queen Mother had stepped into the palace auditorium.

The ringing of a gong shoved its way through the background chatter. I’d heard such an unearthly bronze din once before, and it had announced the Jade Emperor’s presence. I expected to hear his over-salivated voice. Instead there was another familiar speaker in his place.

“I call this emergency meeting to order,” the Great White Planet said. “Order! Come to order!”

It took several more insistent gong strikes to tamp down the side conversations. Substitute teachers had it hard.

“If I could be allowed to finish my statement,” the Great White Planet said. “Yes, it is true that the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea has been defeated.”

“Ao Guang should have his spleen roasted for dereliction of duty!” roared a god that I’d never heard before. “There is no room for cowardice among Guardians!”

“Respectfully, Thunderer Lei Gong,” the Great White Planet said. “Ao Guang made the difficult decision to perform a tactical retreat with his few remaining survivors. He can’t be faulted for his actions in the face of an overpowering force.”

That bit of sympathy made me not hate the Great White Planet as much as I did in person. Maybe he was a fairer judge than I’d given him credit for.

“Furthermore, we have confirmed that the source of demon qi is shifting between the Blissful Planes and moving closer to Heaven as we speak,” he said. “Earth lies directly in its path.”

“How long until it arrives at Heaven’s doorstep?” a sibilant, aristocratic voice inquired. “Perhaps we can buy time by sacrificing the lesser realms of existence. If the foe is demonic in nature, it might sate its hunger on a kingdom’s worth of humans. Or two.”

Man, eff this guy, I thought. I had long been accustomed to Heaven looking down on Earth, but it had never thrown us mortals under the bus so blatantly before.

“Respectfully, Immortal Zhenyuan,” the Great White Planet sighed. “I suggest we take action before humanity is needlessly wiped out.”

“We can’t do that without the Jade Emperor’s blessing?” Lei Gong yelled. “Why are we holding these proceedings without him?”

“Because!” the Great White Planet yelled back, losing his patience with the interruptions. “When I went to request his presence, I found a barrier spell the likes of which I’ve never seen before placed over the gates to his personal keep! He’s locked himself inside and won’t come out!”

The gathering of gods exploded into chaos. They’d been abandoned by their leader. As far as I could tell, the ranting and screaming from the other end of the line encompassed all five stages of grief, delivered at maximum volume. Quentin gave a sharp bark of laughter, the kind of noise you might make if you saw your nemesis trample over an elderly person to get into the last lifeboat on a sinking ship. Guanyin merely closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, trying to meditate the painful inanity of the world away.

“Wow,” I said. I could say little else. “These are the folks upstairs, huh?” I had often wondered how the spiritual sausage got made, and now that I was witnessing it firsthand, I was finding it as unappealing as I’d imagined.

“Try dealing with this on the regular,” Guanyin said. “For centuries.”

Right when the racket took on an extra flavor of panic, the Great White Planet decided he’d had enough. Instead of more gonging, sharp wooden cracks ricocheted through the air. I knew that sound from close-up experience. He was smacking his staff on the ground as hard as he could, using it as a gavel.

“That settles it!” the old man roared with surprising force. “I’ve held back on this for far too long! By the power vested in me by the celestial foundations of Heaven and the fundamental laws that drive the workings of the Universe, I declare a Mandate Challenge!”

At the words “Mandate Challenge,” there was a pulse of invisible energy in the hall of the gods. I could tell, because it happened in the room I was sitting in, too. It felt like a sudden elevation change, a shortness of breath. The lightbulbs flickered. I wondered if seismographs could detect qi.

The other end of the line went dead quiet. I looked at Guanyin and Quentin. Guanyin let out a focused, interminable breath through her pursed lips. Quentin, on the other hand, was manically excited and had to cover his grin with his fist.

“What’s a Mandate Challenge?” I whispered. “What does it mean?”

Quentin hit the mute button. “It means the biggest friggin’ opportunity in existence,” he said. “The Great White Planet just called out the Jade Emperor for not handling his duties in a time of crisis. He’s declaring that the Throne of Heaven is officially up for grabs.”

When the Great White Planet visited, I thought the old god had only been talking about the Jade Emperor’s mandate to rule Heaven as a cautionary tale. To warn me extra

hard against messing up on Earth. The conversation wasn’t supposed to play out for real. For a moment I felt the lightness in my spine that happened any time I watched raffle winners being drawn, even when I hadn’t entered. Technically anything could happen from here on out. Timelines were branching off in droves.