Wolf Demon

Shen Hui soaked in the water for a while, then suddenly remembered something. He reached for his clothes on the bank and fished two round objects out of his robe's pocket.

Wild chicken eggs.

That morning, when he passed a thicket, a wild hen had flapped out of its nest. He looked down and saw seven or eight eggs neatly arranged.

He didn't have the nerve to take them all, so he just pocketed two, planning to eat them by the hot spring for breakfast.

Now was the perfect time.

He held the two eggs up to his eyes. The shells were a grayish green with brown speckles, a size smaller than chicken eggs.

He pinched one in each hand, gently tapped the tops with his nails, and cracked open two tiny holes the size of rice grains.

Then, with a flick of his mind, he summoned a flame, held the eggs close to it, and slowly roasted them.

Watching the dancing fire, Shen Hui suddenly recalled a memory from childhood.

Back then, a Witch lived in the village. She was over seventy, thin and wiry.

Whenever someone in the village was frightened or hit a streak of bad luck, they'd go to her.

She didn't charge money—just a bag of brown sugar and a pack of biscuits would do.

Shen Hui had seen her perform her rituals.

She'd sit at the entrance of the main hall, take an egg, and use chopsticks dipped in ink to draw talismans on the shell.

He had no idea what she drew—just that it was crooked and messy, and he couldn't recognize a single symbol.

After she finished, she'd bury the egg in the hot ashes of the stove and let it cook for the time it took an incense stick to burn. Then she'd dig it out, peel it, and have the afflicted person eat it.

Back then, he'd squat by the door, watching, drooling with envy.

That egg smelled so good roasted—the charred fragrance carried from far away.

And that was why, at the time, he'd constantly wished for bad luck or illness, just so he could have one too.

Shen Hui smiled and flipped the two eggs over.

These eggs in front of him had no talismans, so naturally, they had no power to ward off evil or misfortune.

But then again, who could say whether the talismans the Witch drew actually worked?

The villagers all claimed their illnesses were cured and their bad luck vanished after eating them.

But whether it was the egg's doing, the talisman's doing, or just the placebo effect of "eating the egg will make you better"—no one bothered to find out.

The roasting was just about done.

Shen Hui dismissed the flame, dipped the two eggs in cold water, and started peeling.

The egg whites were tender, with a light golden-brown crust. He took a bite—the yolk was soft and rich, the aroma hitting him straight in the head.

No salt, no seasoning—just the purest egg fragrance—yet it tasted better than anything.

Two eggs were gone in a few bites.

Shen Hui licked his fingers, sank back into the water with satisfaction, and began to cultivate.

A few hours later, he opened his eyes.

He exhaled a breath of stale air, focused inward, and checked—today's qi absorption had reached ten points.

Faster than usual.

Normally, meditating indoors for three or four hours would yield ten points. But now, in just over two hours, he'd already hit ten.

The spiritual energy in this pool was indeed much denser.

He didn't stop cultivating right away. He kept sitting.

Another two hours passed.

When he opened his eyes again, the numbers on his interface flickered and increased by one more point.

This last point accumulated much slower, but it still came through.

At the Temple, after hitting ten points, further qi absorption slowed to a crawl. But in this pool, he could still squeeze out an extra point.

Shen Hui did the math: if he came here every day, eleven points a day meant three hundred thirty points a month.

Thirty more than in his room.

Over a year, that added up to more than a month's worth of progress.

Every little bit counts.

He stood up, the warm pool water sliding off his body, stirring up a layer of mist.

The sun had already shifted westward. Time to head back.

He formed a hand seal for the Wind-Borne Art with his right hand. A gentle breeze rose from his palm and swept across the pool's surface.

The mist churned and parted to both sides, revealing a clear path.

He stepped ashore, dried himself, dressed, and tucked the hawthorn berries back into his pocket. He glanced back at the misty pool.

"I'll come again tomorrow."

The sun slanted westward, casting a faint golden glow over the snow-covered forest floor.

Shen Hui trod through the accumulated snow, following the footprints he had left on his way in as he headed back, his mind still turning over the various insights he had gained from cultivating in the pool earlier.

After walking for about fifteen minutes, he suddenly spotted a black dot slowly writhing in the snow among the distant trees.

He paused mid-step, squinting toward it.

The black dot moved sluggishly across the snow, stopping and starting, like something trapped struggling to break free.

Shen Hui frowned as he watched, the longer he looked, the more something felt off.

It was a person.

But what would a person be doing in these deep, remote mountains?

Should he go check it out?

In these desolate wilds, alone, it was unwise to rashly approach a stranger.

Yet Shen Hui, watching the figure struggle in the snow, weighed the matter over and over, and in the end, couldn't suppress the worry in his heart. He veered off the main path, stepping through snow that buried his knees, and walked toward that black dot.

As he drew closer, he could make out an old man.

The man sat slumped on the ground, wrapped in a tattered padded jacket covered in patches. The jacket's surface was a dusty gray, with blackened cotton wadding poking out in several places.

Beside him lay a bundle of firewood, tied with hemp rope into a carrying harness. The bundle now lay crooked to one side, the harness strap digging into his shoulder, pulling his whole body backward.

He stretched out a hand, trying to reach a branch on an old tree beside him to pull himself up.

But the tree was too thick, the branches too high. His withered fingers clawed uselessly at the air a few times, grasping nothing.

He looked just like an overturned beetle, helplessly spinning in the snow.

Shen Hui took a few more steps closer.

"Old sir."

The old man jerked violently and turned his head.

It was a face wrinkled like dried tree bark, his cheeks badly chapped, his lips full of cracks, some even seeping blood.

When he saw Shen Hui, a flicker of panic flashed in his eyes. He shrank back, as if wanting to run, but tripped over the bundle of firewood and couldn't move.

Shen Hui quickly softened his voice. "Old sir, don't be afraid. I'm no villain."

As he spoke, he reached out a hand.

The old man stared at that hand, hesitating for a long while.

After a good long moment, he tremblingly extended his own hand, covered in cracks and calluses, and grasped Shen Hui's palm.

Shen Hui pulled with a bit of strength and lifted him up.

"Th-thank you, Daoist Master..."

Shen Hui was taken aback for a moment, then smiled. "Old sir, don't call me that. I've only been a Daoist for three months—I don't deserve the title 'Daoist Master.'"

The old man quickly clasped his hands together. "You do, you do, Daoist Master..."

Before he could finish, his foot slipped, and with a thud, he fell flat in the snow.

Shen Hui hurriedly helped him up again.

The old man was about to speak, but Shen Hui had already bent down, untied the bundle of firewood from the old man's back, and hoisted it onto his own shoulder.

"This won't do!"

The old man waved his hands frantically, the wrinkles on his face all bunching together.

"I'm heading that way anyway." Shen Hui smiled. "Let's go."

The old man wanted to say more, but seeing how easily Shen Hui walked, not struggling like he himself had, he finally fell silent, a little embarrassed.

The two of them headed down the mountain, one in front, one behind.

The old man walked very slowly, panting after every few steps.

Shen Hui slowed his pace to match the old man's rhythm, making idle conversation as they went.

"Old sir, which village are you from?"

"Re... replying to the Daoist Master, I'm from Li Family Village at the foot of the mountain."

"Li Family Village? You came all this way to gather firewood?"

The old man's body stiffened. He hung his head even lower, only letting out a faint mm in response, his voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz.

Shen Hui understood and didn't press further.

He knew that, according to the rules of the Great Shuo Dynasty, not just anyone could go up the mountain to gather firewood.

Only official woodcutters designated by the government had that right, and even then, the mountains were divided into government-owned and private land.

Deer Rest Mountain happened to be government-owned. For commoners to trespass and illegally cut wood, the punishment ranged from a beating and a fine to, in serious cases, exile for military service.

This old man... he had probably come here secretly.

Shen Hui slowed his steps further and softened his tone. "Old sir, no need to worry. What you've picked up are just dead branches—that doesn't count as logging."

The old man froze for a moment, then the meaning of those words sank in, and his eyes suddenly reddened.

"Daoist Master, you're a good man," he said abruptly.

Shen Hui smiled but didn't reply.

They walked on in silence for a while, the old man's steps gradually steadying, his words growing more frequent.

He followed behind Shen Hui and asked cautiously, "Daoist Master... do you cultivate at Clear Wind Temple?"

Shen Hui didn't turn his head. "That's right."

The old man nodded, a hint of reverence in his voice. "Those from Clear Wind Temple—all of them are masters."

Shen Hui chuckled. "Then you'd be wrong there, because This Humble One hardly counts as a 'master.'"

But the old man shook his head vigorously. "Everyone who comes out of Clear Wind Temple is a master. In all of Qu County, who doesn't know that when it comes to subduing demons and driving away ghosts, Clear Wind Temple is the best..."

The old man seemed to have opened a floodgate, rambling on and on.

"If the county magistrate hadn't posted that notice saying we couldn't go up the mountain to disturb the daoists in their cultivation, this old man would have gone to the temple to burn a stick of incense no matter what, just to show my gratitude."

Shen Hui nodded.

He knew about this.

Clear Wind Temple had quite a reputation in Yongchang Commandery. Whenever officials or common folk ran into trouble, they often came seeking help.

Old Taoist Ji Chen was skilled, but also soft-hearted.

Over time, the temple's incense offerings grew more and more prosperous.

But Clear Wind Temple was, after all, a place of quiet cultivation for the master and his disciples. Too many pilgrims would disturb the mountain's peace.

Left with no choice, Old Taoist Ji Chen had the county magistrate post a notice, forbidding the common people from going up the mountain to burn incense.

If there was a problem, they should first go to the government office. If the government office couldn't solve it, Clear Wind Temple would descend the mountain twice a year, in spring and autumn, to handle matters then.

They walked a bit further, and then the old man suddenly sighed.

"Daoist Master... this old man didn't mean to break the law..."

"I know," Shen Hui nodded. "But if you're short on firewood, why not cut it from the closer common hills? Why come all the way to the distant official mountain?"

The old man was silent for a moment before speaking.

"The closer ones... the closer ones are off-limits."

"Why?"

"A few months ago, a tiger suddenly showed up in those hills. That beast was vicious—it ate several hunters. The government office organized a hunt and drove it off, but who knows..."

He swallowed hard.

"One tiger gone, and then a vicious wolf showed up."

Shen Hui's brow furrowed slightly.

"Cat Ridge is the only way into the mountains. That wolf hides up on the ridge, pushing rocks down from above to crush people, and it only goes after those who are alone. It's already... already eaten several."

He lifted his head and glanced at Shen Hui, fear in his eyes.

"A few days ago, someone saw that beast from afar. They said it could already stand upright and walk like a man."

When Shen Hui heard this, his steps faltered slightly.

"Stand upright and walk?" He turned his head to look at the old man. "Did you see it with your own eyes, elder?"

The old man shrank his neck and lowered his voice even more. "No, no, I didn't dare see it myself... It was Lame Liu from the village who said it. He went up the mountain to cut firewood that day and saw the beast standing on the ridge from a distance, on its two hind legs, its front legs dangling, looking down the mountain like a person. Lame Liu was so scared he dropped his firewood and crawled back, then was sick in bed for half a month."

Shen Hui's brow furrowed deeper.

A wolf that walked upright, had eaten people, and knew to push rocks from high ground.

This was no ordinary beast anymore.

"Didn't the government office do anything?"

"They did." The old man sighed. "The county magistrate sent a few yamen runners with knives and spears. But that beast just turned around and dove into the mountains—they couldn't even catch a single hair of it."

Shen Hui walked on in silence, the snow crunching under his feet.

The old man stole a glance at his expression and said quietly, "Little Daoist, I, I didn't mean to steal wood from the official mountain. I had no choice... There's only me left at home. If I don't gather firewood, I'll freeze to death. I know Clear Wind Temple's rules, I shouldn't be here..."

Shen Hui snapped back to attention and waved his hand. "Don't worry, elder. The branches you picked are all deadwood. Even if the government office finds out, at worst they'll scold you a bit. Besides, in this heavy snow, who's going to patrol the mountain?"

The old man nodded and couldn't help wiping his eyes with his tattered coat.

They walked a bit further, and the foot of the mountain was already in sight.

The old man pointed at a village in the distance where smoke was rising. "That's our Li Family Village, Little Daoist. How about... how about you come to my home for a bowl of hot water?"

Shen Hui shook his head. "It's getting late. I need to hurry back to the temple. Be careful yourself, elder. From now on, don't go too deep to cut firewood—just pick some at the foot of the mountain."

The old man took the bundle of firewood, thanked him profusely, and left.

Shen Hui stood at the foot of the mountain, watching that stooped figure gradually disappear at the village entrance, then turned and headed up the mountain.

By the time he returned to the Temple, the sky had already darkened.

Shen Hui first took the bag of hawthorns to the kitchen, then went to the woodshed to change out of his snow-soaked Daoist robe, and finally headed straight for his master's meditation room.

The door was ajar, with light shining from within.

He knocked.

"Come in."

The Old Taoist was sitting cross-legged on a meditation cushion, a Daoist scripture in his hands. "Back?"

Shen Hui performed a bow, then recounted the entire encounter with the old man, especially the wolf's abnormalities—eating people, pushing rocks, walking upright.

The Old Taoist listened, set down the book, and stroked his beard.

"Cat Ridge... I think I know."

Shen Hui was startled. "Master knows?"

"Yongchang Commandery is only so big. I keep a mental ledger of where the demons are and where the ghosts lurk."

The Old Taoist stood up, walked to the window, and gazed out at the pitch-black night.

"That creature was once an ordinary beast in the mountains. A few years ago, it only knew how to breathe in the moonlight's essence and had never eaten a person. This time, it probably saw that tiger devour someone and got greedy."

He turned to look at Shen Hui. "When you went down the mountain, did that old man ask you to intervene?"

Shen Hui shook his head. "No, he didn't even mention it."

"An honest man."

The Old Taoist nodded. "But since you've stumbled upon this, we can't just ignore it. That beast has already eaten several people. If we let it grow any further, it will sooner or later become a full-fledged demon."

Shen Hui's heart stirred. "Master means..."

"And what do you think?" The Old Taoist looked at him with a faint, knowing smile.

Shen Hui was taken aback, not expecting the question to be turned back on him.

He lowered his eyes, thought seriously for a moment, then raised his head. "Since I know about it, I can't remain indifferent. Otherwise, when I sit in meditation and practice breathing techniques later, I'm afraid my heart won't find peace."

The Old Taoist's gaze rested on his face, saying nothing.

Seeing this, Shen Hui continued. "That old man took a risk going up the mountain to gather firewood. There's a wolf on Cat Ridge, and he'd rather take the long way, trespassing on the official mountain, than dare take the shortcut. That shows the beast has already driven people to their wits' end."

The Old Taoist listened, nodded, and asked, "So you want to go down the mountain and eliminate that demon?"

Shen Hui hesitated briefly, then answered, "Yes."

The Old Taoist looked at him, still silent.

After a long moment, he suddenly smiled.

The smile looked a bit strange on his aged face, yet it didn't feel distant.

"Only been a disciple for three months, and you're already taking on this kind of job?" the Old Taoist asked.

Shen Hui thought it over and answered seriously, "Your disciple's Fire Element Art is still quite fierce. It should be enough against ordinary spirits. Besides..."

He paused. "If we wait any longer, more people might die in its jaws."

The Old Taoist didn't respond, just turned his head to look out the window.

After a moment, he spoke. "That wolf hasn't fully matured yet, but it's close. It's eaten blood-tainted flesh, absorbed human aura, and awakened some intelligence. In a few more days, it might be able to speak human language and come down the mountain to cause havoc."

He withdrew his gaze and looked back at Shen Hui. "You said someone saw that beast walking upright?"

Shen Hui nodded. "That's what the old man said."

The Old Taoist gave a light snort. "If it can walk upright, it's learning to imitate humans. These kinds of beasts are the most troublesome. They're smarter than wild animals, yet more reckless than full-fledged demons. If it had already matured, it would be easier to handle—its actions would follow a pattern. But it's precisely in this half-formed state that it's hardest to deal with."

Shen Hui caught the implication. "Master is worried your disciple can't handle it?"

The Old Taoist didn't answer, instead asking, "What do you think yourself?"

Shen Hui thought for a moment and answered honestly, "Your disciple has never fought something like this before, so I can't say for sure. But... I still have some confidence."

The Old Taoist stared at him for a long time upon hearing this, then suddenly smiled again.

"Fine."

He said, "Then go ahead and try."

Shen Hui was stunned. "Master agrees?"

The Old Taoist waved his hand. "You took on the job yourself, so you do it yourself. I'll only ask you one thing—do you even know which direction Cat Ridge is?"

Shen Hui froze.

He really didn't know.

Seeing this, the Old Taoist shook his head. "You don't even know the way, yet you dare say you want to go down the mountain and eliminate a demon?"

Shen Hui gave an embarrassed smile.

"Tomorrow, let Jingming go with you."

The Old Taoist straightened his robe. "She knows the way and has seen a bit of the world. With her watching over you, nothing major will go wrong."