The Relics of Gods
Between Heaven and Earth
Book One
Yeyu
Genre: Fantasy
Chinese Historical/Mythology/Paranormal High Fantasy
Publisher: DSP Publications
Date of Publication: January 6th, 2015
ISBN Ebook – 978-1-62798-779-0
ISBN Paperback – 978-1-62798-778-3
Number of pages: 350
Word Count: 119,000
ISBN Paperback – 978-1-62798-778-3
Number of pages: 350
Word Count: 119,000
Cover Artist: Reese Dante
Book Description:
What is worse: Being so broke you can barely afford food, getting hired for dangerous missions way out of your league, suffocating under mountains of unanswered questions—or wanting to sexually dominate someone who can kill you without lifting a finger?
Lu Delong is a mercenary who evaluates antiques most of the time, and deals with the paranormal on rare occasions—even though it’s supposed to be the other way around. When he joins a dangerous quest for an ancient artifact, he meets and becomes strongly attracted to a mysterious and powerful immortal named Cangji. Despite his friends’ warnings and Cangji’s icy, unsociable demeanor, Delong is unable to resist befriending him. However, Cangji is deeply involved in a matter beyond mortals, and Delong is drawn into a chaotic struggle by both visible and invisible forces.
Always the pacifist who wanted to live a simple human life, Delong never imagined he’d end up involved in a conflict that will affect everything from the lowest insects on earth to the highest gods in heaven.
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
AS USUAL, the
market was bustling and crowded on a hot summer day. Chickens clucked, pigs
snorted, and citizens of Great Ming screamed over one another at the top of
their lungs, deep in heated bargaining battles. Naturally, Lu Delong was no
exception.
“Fifteen wen for a bundle of sorry-looking water
spinach? You must be joking!” Delong complained as he examined the bunch of tasty
greens with a disgusted look. The shop owner was likely from a village outside
the city, since Delong had never seen her in the markets before. “This is
outrageous!” he accused, staring straight into the woman’s eyes. “You operate a
blackhearted business here, madam—I daresay this bundle is only worth three wen.”
The tall,
muscular woman’s face turned a bright shade of red. “What in the world are you
talking about?” She had a strong accent and was probably one of the refugees
who had moved south to escape the drought up north. “Look at how green these
plants are, how beautiful and flawless the leaves are—these vegetables are
planted in the richest soil in these lands and are fed quality water. Fifteen wen is actually a bargain!” Her gaze
swept up and down Delong, and her lips thinned. “I don’t know how a beggar like
you grew this big, but if you can’t afford the price, go away! Don’t go off
slandering my shop’s vegetables!”
Delong took a
step back and glared at her. “Excuse me, madam. How rude of you to assume
things from my attire! I am more educated than you think, thank you very much
for the discrimination.” He leaned closer and continued, “Have you heard of the
story of the Orange Seller before?”
“What Orange
Seller?” the woman growled, but she was unable to hide the curiosity in her
eyes. Delong snickered inwardly, pleased to find this woman a typical
gossip-lover with nothing better to do with her time.
“There once was
this Orange Seller who was good at storing oranges so they did not spoil. The oranges
were beautiful, with a golden color and jade texture. In the markets, they sold
at ten times the price of average oranges, but people still fought to buy them
because they believed the fruits to be of exquisite taste. However, when they
brought the oranges home to eat, they realized the oranges were all rotten and
dried inside. The moral of this story? Never trust appearances,” Delong
finished.
“But I’m not
selling oranges!” the woman argued, exasperated. She pointed at the spinaches.
“You can cut these apart and they’re obviously not dried up and rotten!”
“How do I know
you’re not selling poisonous vegetables?” Delong inquired. “They’re so green, I
find it very suspicious! If someone dies in this village and they bought
vegetables from you, we know who to blame, don’t we? So I’m being nice already
to actually offer to buy your vegetables at all. Three wen for one bundle, and I’ll buy two. What say you?”
By now the shop
owner was pale. “Fine, fine—but promise you won’t tell anyone else the story
you just told me?”
Delong grinned
wide. “Deal.” He then proceeded to buy a few more vegetables at a great
bargain, and with a basketful of beautiful, delicious vegetables, he hummed on
the way back to his house. What a way to start his day—he only had fifteen
copper coins in his purse, and he had bought five times his money’s worth.
He eventually
arrived at the least organized section of the prefecture, where walled
residences of not-so-great condition were squished closely together. Like all
commoners with little money and no extended family to care for, Delong lived in
a sishuiguitang with a tiny courtyard
cramped by one main building and two secondary buildings. He pushed open the
creaky gates, stepped into the courtyard, and paused. He glanced at the building
to his left, where the kitchen was, before he turned to stare ahead. It didn’t
take long for him to figure out what to expect, so he continued whistling and
walked into the main building.
“I see you
haven’t changed much, Delong,” said the lady at his table, who had already
helped herself to a cup of alcohol. Unlike the other guest who sat humbly
beside her, Yaqin easily garnered attention. Her robes were made of orange
silks lined with beige-colored fur, scantly covering her lithe body and leaving
her pale breasts and thighs exposed. Her reddish dark hair was arranged in a
complex knot secured by an intricate golden hairpin, and fox fangs dangled from
her ears. Any average man would be taken by her stunning beauty and sensual
allure, but her charms had little effect on Delong.
Yaqin glanced
around the room, her gaze sweeping past the shelves that somewhat divided the
place to contain a living room and sleeping quarters, his uncomfortable bed,
his study table, and the broom next to it. “Still, your house depresses me,”
she sighed. “Only cheap alcohol and less than a catty of rice left? The rest of
your belongings are merely old tattered books! You even have a building stuffed
full of useless pieces of paper! What in the world have you been doing for the past
few months?”
“Nothing,”
Delong admitted with a shrug. “Hey, it is not easy finding work,” he said in
his defense when Yaqin shook her head with disapproval. “It’s not as though
people run into paranormal problems all the time! Even if they do, they’re
probably just going to ask for help from prestigious Daoist sects that deal
with those problems instead of a freelancer like me. My sole income is from
being Old Li’s assistant....” His voice became smaller when Yaqin gave him a
pointed look.
“Well, of course
I have you and Zhaoyang to thank,” he added hastily while he nodded at the
thick-browed man sitting on the chair beside Yaqin. “Old Li always talks fondly
of you two, and he takes care of me because he knows we’re good friends. Still,
I’m not that bad myself—I helped him greatly with evaluating the goods people
like you sell him to give the prices a competitive edge. I have to say, those
history books I’ve read paid off!”
“Evaluating
antiques, are you?” Yaqin said, unimpressed. “Listen to yourself. All the
skills your master taught you, the art you’ve learned at Cloud Fortress
Sect—wasted.” She got to her feet and crossed her arms, examining Delong with
narrowed amber eyes. “Old Li isn’t going to be around forever, Delong. You know
how short human lives are! Do you really plan to spend the rest of your life
cooped up in this pathetic shed?”
Delong shrugged.
“Hey, it is not nice to call my house a shed! And what is wrong with being an
antique seller? You need someone to sell your spoils, don’t you? Old Li already
told me that he wants to hand the shop to me, since he has no sons,” he
finished proudly.
“That’s—” Yaqin
stomped her fur-lined boot, her hands balled into small fists. “Argh! I have
never heard of a half-yao selling
antiques! You should be out there training to become an immortal xian, causing problems for humans, or
exploring the world—not selling antiques, wasting time and money on useless
books, and being satisfied with some measly grocery bargain!”
“Now, now,
Yaqin, calm down,” chuckled He Zhaoyang as he raised a hand and patted her
thigh. Unlike Delong, who chose to tie half his coarse brown hair up only to
keep it out of his face, Zhaoyang had his black hair combed into a neat, tight
bun, which accentuated his sharp jawbone. Like all who were in his profession,
however, his skin was on the pale side. “There are benefits to knowledge, and
not every shifter has to lead extraordinary lives, never mind training to
become celestial beings, hmm? You know how few mortals, human or yao, can actually succeed in
transcending mortality. Besides, we actually could use Delong’s help in our
next case.”
Smelling money,
Delong straightened his back. “How can I help you two?”
A warm smile
spread across Zhaoyang’s face. “Yaqin and I have been invited to participate in
what will perhaps be the biggest operation in history, and we need someone who
we can trust to come with us and watch our backs.”
“Wait—what?”
Delong’s great smile faltered. He wasn’t too comfortable with doing what the
couple before him did for a living, even though he was perfectly fine with
selling what they brought back. “Well, if you ask, of course I’ll help, but I
hope I won’t drag you two down...,” he said carefully. “I have never fought in
that sort of... environment. I don’t know what to expect.”
“You’ll be
fine,” Yaqin said, waving her hand in dismissal of Delong’s protest. “You’re
not exactly human, either.”
“I’m still
half-human,” Delong argued. “Unlike you, fox lady! There is nothing wrong with
me wanting to live an ordinary life as a human!”
Yaqin merely
yawned. “Spare me the cliché. How many times have you used your otherworldly
abilities to get your way? How many times have you used your powers during...
say, sex? Don’t tell me you don’t use them to boost your stamina.”
“Wh—How can you
be so direct and say such things without a shred of embarrassment?” Delong said
with disbelief, feeling a little hot now.
Shrugging, Yaqin
smirked like the fox she was. She stood, though her full height only reached
Delong’s chin. “Why should I be embarrassed?” she inquired, looking up at
Delong as she poked the center of his chest. “Still, I hit the target, didn’t
I?” Her smile widened when Delong felt the heat spread from his cheeks to his
neck. “Despite how harmless and upright your face tends to fool people into
thinking you are, with your thick eyebrows, large eyes and all... I knew
someone who got kicked out of Cloud Fortress Sect for breaking the celibacy
rule would use his powers during sex. But still. Stop using your human lineage
as an excuse.” She lifted her hand and placed it on her human husband’s
shoulder. “Zhaoyang here leads a far more interesting and extraordinary life
than you do!”
As though taking
her cue, Zhaoyang added, “Anyway, Delong, I’m asking you to come with us also because
I caught wind that, ten years ago, your master was investigating our
destination. This may have something to do with her disappearance.”
“Are you
serious?” Delong’s eyes widened. “Why would my master investigate tombs? It
definitely does not seem like a mission from Cloud Fortress Sect, since
defiling the dead is not exactly the best way to become immortal. Even though
my master already became a xian and
isn’t stuck- up like the rest of the daoshi
out there, I can still hardly imagine her barging into some noble’s tomb
without good reason.”
“Perhaps,”
Zhaoyang said in a lowered voice. “But this tomb she was investigating isn’t by
any means an ordinary tomb.” He licked his lip. “This tomb... belonged to a
god.”
“You’re planning
to rob the tomb of a god?”
About the Author:
Yeyu wrote her first story when she was 7, and she has been creating stories on-and-off ever since, be it writing fanfiction or drawing original manga. She finally ventured into writing original fiction in high school, and stuck with the form.
Most of Yeyu’s childhood was spent overseas, but by the age of 16 she moved back to the small East Asian island most commonly known as Taiwan, where she was born.
When Yeyu isn’t writing in her spare time, she is probably reading, gaming, or sleeping. No cats, sadly.
Twitter: @QiuxiaoYeyu
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/QiuxiaoYeyu
2 comments:
thanks for the spotlight :)
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