Shen Hui lay sprawled on the ground. The gaping hole in his chest felt chilly, but it didn't hurt much anymore.
Maybe it had hurt too much, until he couldn't feel the pain at all.
He stared up at the pitch-black rafters, his mind full of jumbled thoughts darting back and forth.
Like a swarm of headless flies.
Buzz, buzz, buzz. He couldn't catch them, couldn't chase them away. They were maddening.
There was a beam above the kitchen, a rafter on the beam, a tile on the rafter, and a star above the tile... No, the tile was covering the roof, so he couldn't see any stars.
The stars must have been appearing because he was dizzy.
Was the tile blue-gray or gray-blue?
—He thought he'd seen it during the day. It was blue-gray.
Was blue-gray prettier or gray-blue?
—They seemed about the same.
He figured his brain had taken a terrible beating in the fight just now. It was probably a pot of mush by now.
Boiled mush, at that!
He wanted to lower his head and look at the hole in his chest, but couldn't summon even the slightest strength to lift it.
Never mind. Never mind.
He'd just lie here and wait to die...
It was a shame he'd only just arrived and hadn't had a chance to really experience this world.
It was a shame he'd only just learned the Heart Lamp technique, and now he'd have to take it to the grave.
It was a shame...
As Shen Hui's thoughts ran wild, a sudden BANG! rang out.
Someone kicked the kitchen door open!
The night wind rushed in with a foul, fishy stench.
Shen Hui couldn't move where he lay, so he could only glance toward the doorway from the corner of his eye.
Several dark figures stood there. In the faint light spilling in through the doorway, Shen Hui could make out their general appearance.
They were covered in red hair, with bald heads and faces wrinkled like dried orange peels. Yet each had a mouthful of protruding fangs, as if they were looking for something to gnaw on.
Yakshas.
Those two words surfaced in Shen Hui's mind.
Not the mighty, fearsome guardian yakshas from temple murals, but the wild yakshas from storybooks that feasted on human hearts.
Red hair, bald pates, hideous faces, and drool dangling from the corners of their mouths, dripping down.
The leading yaksha strode inside and spotted Shen Hui lying on the ground at once.
It grinned, baring a crooked row of yellow teeth, then raised a hand and curled its five fingers in a grasping motion.
Shen Hui immediately felt his body go light. He rose into the air and dropped straight into the yaksha's palm.
Its palm was rough and cracked, its fingernails black and long. Its fingers clamped around his neck, digging painfully into his skin.
Shen Hui's head drooped. He couldn't even lift his eyelids, and could only make out, through slits, the yaksha's other hand reaching toward him.
Its claws held a bright-red bug, fat and thick, writhing in its grip.
The yaksha brought the bug to Shen Hui's mouth and squeezed hard.
Squelch!
A viscous, green liquid spurted from the bug's rear end, carrying a fishy-sweet odor as it poured straight into Shen Hui's mouth.
Shen Hui didn't have time to spit it out.
The liquid slid down his throat, icy cold, as if someone had poured a ladle of chilled water into his stomach.
The chill trickled down from his throat, over his chest, through his organs, then gathered in his muddled brain and came to a stop, circling around.
Shen Hui's eyelids twitched.
He opened his eyes.
The yaksha's wrinkled face was right in front of him, grinning viciously, with sticky drool hanging from its fangs.
The other yakshas crowded in behind it, saliva dripping from their mouths. Their eyes shone like those of dogs that had gone hungry for half a month and spotted a steaming pile of fresh shit.
The comparison was somewhat inappropriate, but it fit the situation perfectly.
Looking at those hideous faces, Shen Hui was left with just one thought:
He couldn't even get any peace in death.
He had no strength to struggle, no strength to shout, and could barely keep his eyelids open.
Still, he did his utmost to move his lips, mumbling as if he wanted to say something.
The leading Red-Haired Yaksha froze, then looked delighted. It leaned an ear closer, probably hoping to hear the last words of a dying man: a plea for mercy, a curse, or the location of some hidden treasure.
Shen Hui's lips moved again.
The Red-Haired Yaksha pressed its ear even closer.
Then it heard him recite a few lines of an incantation—
"Clear light shines through the Radiant Cave, the Fire Palace's divine lord;
"Flames fly, lightning flashes, fiend fire soars like a rainbow;
"Burn the soul and refine the spirit, red banners whip in the wind;
"Cast off form, abandon thought, let the Fierce Ghost out of its cage."
"Fire, rise!"
The grin froze on the Red-Haired Yaksha's face.
It hadn't heard the incantation clearly, but it had heard the last two words, "Fire, rise!"
Before it could react, a spark suddenly burst into flame before its eyes. In the blink of an eye, it leaped right toward them.
A Fire Ghost stood over a zhang tall, its entire body crimson, flames churning around its fearsome face.
Fire tongues licked the air; waves of heat rolled outward.
The yakshas hadn't even had time to scream before the Fire Ghost swallowed them all.
Shen Hui fell to the ground, and the kitchen fell silent again.
The kitchen door stood open. The night wind rushed in, making the sweat on Shen Hui's body feel icy.
The gaping hole in his chest had stopped bleeding. It even seemed to be healing, little by little.
Shen Hui blinked.
Then he blinked again.
He wasn't dead.
He seemed... to have survived.
After a while, Shen Hui gathered enough strength to open his eyes, then enough to lift his head.
He didn't move at first. He only stared blankly at the rafters, pinning down the wild thoughts in his mind one by one.
Once they'd all settled, he slowly lowered his head to look at the hole the little demon had torn in his chest.
There was no hole.
There was no blood, either.
Shen Hui froze, then looked down again.
Still nothing.
His gray robe didn't even have a tear in it, let alone a bloody hole in his chest.
He felt his chest, his stomach, his ribs. His skin, flesh, sinews, and bones were all fine. Where had the injury gone?
Lying on the ground, Shen Hui felt the thoughts he'd pinned down begin to stir again.
He tried desperately to grab hold of a loose thread, hoping he could unravel the tangle in his mind.
But every time he almost touched it, the thread slipped away, slick as oil.
He refused to give up and kept reaching.
At last, he caught hold of one.
It was ice-cold and heavy in his hand, like a chain hauled out of an ice cellar.
Shen Hui followed it, feeling more and more uneasy with every inch, his back growing colder and colder.
Suddenly, he didn't dare follow it any farther.
Shen Hui timidly raised his head and looked toward the spot where the yakshas had stood.
There was no one there.
No, that was wrong.
Someone was standing there.
His master, and the Five Senior Brothers and Sisters.
The Old Taoist stood at the front. Half his hair was singed, his beard was ragged, and his face was streaked black and white. His robe was charred black, too.
He looked as if he'd just crawled out of a firebox, and was hardly any better off than the Red-Haired Yaksha had been.
The other five were unharmed, but their faces were pale, their lips trembling as they stared at Shen Hui in utter horror.
Shen Hui studied each of their faces, then shifted his gaze to his master's mangled beard.
He lowered his head and looked at his unharmed chest, at the robe without so much as a hole in it.
Then the tangled mess in his mind suddenly came apart, every last thread converging on a single point.
He pinched the thread he'd been trying and failing to catch, then gently tugged—
So the mushrooms were poisonous after all.