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

“Maybe?” I didn’t remember the details of my past life as the Ruyi Jingu Bang or know what the rules were for weapons reincarnating. But I did appreciate Guan Yu’s consideration for his blade. “I think if it glows, that’s a sign that it’s connecting well with whoever’s wielding it. So it’s probably not unhappy right now, in any case.” In staff form, I had apparently glowed as Sun Wukong approached for the first time, and the guandao was certainly shiny.

Quentin seemed jealous that his buddy was paying more attention to me than him. “Helmet check!” he shouted. He leaped up and slammed his skull into Guan Yu’s. The warrior staggered back before whooping and returning the blow with his own cranium.

I watched the two friends run at each other like a pair of mountain goats. It was almost hypnotic, a Newton’s Cradle made out of Chinese gods and testosterone.

“I, uh, I’m not seeing King of Heaven material here,” I whispered to Guanyin as the grass trembled from the dome-to-dome contact.

The goddess shrugged. “Guan Yu’s actually a good egg. He’s forthright and moral to a fault. He’s just . . .”

“Kind of Quentin-y,” I said, finishing her sentence. She smirked at me.

This time the Great White Planet played referee. “Enough,” he said. “Before this interruption I was in the middle of explaining a matter of grave importance.”

Guan Yu leaned on top of Quentin’s head, the two of them catching their breath. “We’re listening,” he said.

The Great White Planet muttered to himself under his breath before continuing. “As I was saying, I have bad news regarding the nomination process. After the sudden injection of unorthodoxy by the Shouhushen, a rash of poorly considered ideas took hold in the assembly. Names of candidates began flying left and right. It was utter chaos.”

“Stop right there,” I said. “My decision to back Guanyin had good reasons behind it. And if you compare her to chaos, we’re going to have a problem.”

The Great White Planet threw up his hands in concession. “Noted,” he snapped. “Yet the fact remains that many gods, including prominent ones like Lei Gong and Zhenyuan, began to question what made a candidate worthy of consideration for the mandate. Was it raw power like Guan Yu’s? Unshakable compassion as displayed by the Lady of Mercy? Or should more old-fashioned constraints like lineage take precedence?”

Quentin frowned. “So they don’t want Nezha anymore?”

“No, Prince Nezha is still in the running,” the Great White Planet said. “He’s arriving with the final nominee right now.”

To the side, on a pristine patch of lawn, a ring of fire bloomed. Little gouts of sparks and ash chased each other round and round in a circle, building up speed. The growing flames stayed in their lane, ignoring the rest of the flammable grass.

The inside of the hoop filled with a soft yellow light. As if raised by an underground platform, a young man floated upward into view.

He was stunningly pretty, even for a god. His long hair flowed with

silken ribbons, and his exquisite robes were cut tight and sleeveless to reveal lean, well-muscled arms. He had a delicate, troubled expression on his face that twisted his pouty lips with concern.

This guy is totally Yunie’s type, I thought.

“Prince Nezha,” the Great White Planet said, forgoing any introductions with the rest of us. “Did you bring him?”

“I did,” Nezha said in the same smooth tenor that I recognized from over the phone. He reached down below his feet and grabbed something heavy.

A foul smell of brimstone and caged animal filled the air. I heard the metallic jangling of chains. With a grunt, Nezha hoisted another man onto the lawn, bound tightly like a prisoner. The circle of fire closed behind them.

The second arrival was filthy and unshaven, and his bird’s nest of hair fell over his eyes. His clothes were rough-spun and stained. What I had thought were chains were instead strings of iron, baseball-sized prayer beads that looped around his neck and shoulders, trapping his wrists together in front of him.

But despite his stooped posture and mass of bindings, the man still radiated an air of menace that was not only chilling, but familiar. He raised his head. The fine, handsome lines of his face showed through the layers of dirt and scraggly facial hair, and pitch darkness couldn’t have masked the gleam in those eyes.

“Behold, the final candidate in the Mandate Challenge,” the Great White Planet said bitterly. “The Jade Emperor’s nephew, Erlang Shen.”

17

“Hello Genie,” Erlang Shen said.

I ran forward and kicked him in the groin. I didn’t get as much strength into it as I would have liked, but I still managed to elevate him a couple of inches off the ground.

The other gods were slow to react, but I knew better. You couldn’t let enemies as dangerous as Erlang Shen get their footing. A word would turn into a sentence would turn into a lie, and then before you knew it you’d have flying demon bombs threatening to eradicate the nearest city. It had happened before.

Erlang Shen doubled over. “I see you’re as mild of disposition as ever,” he gasped.

I was going to grab his head and knee him in the mouth next, but a pair of burly arms held me back. “Hold on there, child,” Guan Yu said. “He’s helpless. It wouldn’t be right.”