Yaksha King Yaoguai Kings
Description
The raging flames had reached the Golden Hall, and the sounds of battle outside were deafening, though they were muffled within.
The king, gravely wounded, sat amidst the wreckage, holding a recently deceased young boy in his arms.
A figure stood behind the curtain, sighing, “Such devastation… Don’t you see? It’s all because of you.”
The king remained silent.
“Whether the Yaksha royal lineage continues or ends depends entirely on your decision today.”
The king couldn’t help but glance around the Golden Hall, still able to see traces of its former glory.
“They say Yakshas are the most resolute, yet you, as their king, are hesitant and indecisive.”
The king gently stroked his son’s face, the body still warm. He wished so dearly that the boy could see the vast and beautiful world.
“If you have even a shred of linger desire, why not try my method? The unattainable wish in your heart, I will take care of it for you.”
As a king, was he not even allowed to die on the battlefield? The king closed his eyes.
Finally, he opened them and said slowly, “Since there is no salvation… I will leave me and my son at your disposal.”
“Splendid! It’s not too late to understand it now.”
The figure clapped, and a white-clad Daoist emerged from behind. The Daoist approached the 
Yaksha King, bowed, then sat cross-legged on the ground. He extended his hands above the boy’s head and began to chant softly. Before long, a small, blood-red lotus flower emerged slowly from the boy’s forehead, crystal clear and vibrant. The Daoist carefully plucked the lotus and placed it into a bowl he carried.
The Yaksha King fixed his unblinking gaze intently at the lotus.
The figure said, “This red lotus is the essence of your son’s soul. To ensure it does not dissipate before successful reincarnation, we will need your life and the water from the River of Childbearing.”
The Yaksha King raised his arm, taking one last look at the blood lotus.
“I will do it myself.”
Poetry
Fangs bared, eyes like twin lanterns bright,
In battle’s clash, he finds delight.
Agile and brave, with skills so fine,
Yet lost and wandering, his fate’s decline.
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