White-headed Macaque

Shen Hui soaked in the hot spring for the usual amount of time, waiting until the spiritual energy within his body was full and complete before rising to dress.

Days passed quickly in the mountains.

He hadn't even noticed when the twelfth lunar month ended.

By the time he realized it, half of the first month had already passed.

The icicles under the eaves dripped steadily, and the lingering snow in the corner of the courtyard had shrunk into a small puddle.

In a few more days, the spring equinox would arrive, and then he would have to go down the mountain with his master.

He calculated the days as he walked downhill.

Beneath the withered grass on both sides of the mountain path, faint patches of pale green had begun to sprout.

Birds chirped in the forest, and the sunlight filtering through the branches and leaves was warm and pleasant against his skin.

Just as he was walking, he suddenly heard a whistling sound coming from the side.

His eyes sharpened, and he sidestepped to dodge.

A black object brushed past his ear and embedded itself into the tree trunk behind him with a dull thud, sinking deep into the wood.

Shen Hui frowned and looked back along its trajectory.

Whoosh—

Another whistling sound came, even faster than the last.

He only had time to look up before a black dot was already upon him, swift as lightning, aimed straight for his brow.

In desperation, Shen Hui opened his mouth and released a sharp burst of metallic energy.

The white energy shot out and collided with the black dot midair.

With a muffled thump, the black dot was instantly shredded, fragments scattering everywhere.

Shen Hui withdrew his energy and focused his gaze.

Not far away, perched on a treetop, was a monkey.

The monkey was oddly shaped, its black fur glossy and sleek, but its face was startlingly pale, like a mask peeking out from ink. It was only about three feet tall, yet its tail was unusually thick and long, nearly ten feet, hanging among the branches and slowly writhing like a python.

Seeing that its attack had failed and Shen Hui was now looking at it, the monkey's pale face twisted with fear. It let out a strange shriek, turned, and fled.

But Shen Hui didn't move immediately.

He stared at the monkey's retreating back, assessing the force of the earlier strike.

That black object had been heavy and powerful. If he hadn't blocked it, he would likely be lying dead on the mountain path right now.

With that thought, his expression darkened. He raised his hand and formed a seal.

A line of fire shot through the air, swift as an arrow, chasing after the monkey.

The fire cut through the treetops, snapping branches and leaves as it passed with a crackling sound.

The monkey was fleeing in panic when it heard the noise behind it. It turned its head in alarm, let out a terrified screech, and desperately leaped to the side.

It jumped just in time—its body dodged the attack.

But its long tail couldn't be pulled away in time.

The line of fire swept across the base of its tail, cleanly severing a ten-foot-long section. The severed tail fell among the dead leaves, still writhing uncontrollably.

The monkey crashed to the ground, clutching the stump of its tail and shrieking in agony. Its piercing cries echoed through the forest.

Shen Hui walked toward it.

Seeing him approach, the monkey's eyes filled with even greater terror.

It suddenly turned its head, puffed out its cheeks, and shot another black object at him.

This time, Shen Hui saw it clearly.

It was a fruit pit—some kind of seed the monkey was using as a projectile.

He sneered inwardly: Even if your name were Qiu today, you'd still be hard-pressed to escape death.

He pressed two fingers together and pointed.

The fruit pit burst into flames mid-flight, turning into a wisp of green smoke that dissipated completely.

Shen Hui took a few more steps forward.

He was close enough now.

A warmth spread across his chest as the Heart Lamp turned, pouring all seven emotions and six desires into it.

The monkey was struggling to climb a tree, blood still gushing from its severed tail.

But suddenly, its body went rigid. It let out a sharp scream and fell straight down from the trunk, landing with a smack on the pile of dead leaves.

It began to thrash.

Its limbs clawed wildly, its body twisted and writhed, its pale face contorted into a grimace, its mouth wide open—but no sound came out.

A moment later, a wisp of flame crept out from the corner of its eye, then from its nostrils, ears, the corners of its mouth...

Smoke poured from its seven orifices, then spewed fire.

Its struggles gradually slowed, until at last it lay still.

Shen Hui stepped forward, looking down at the charred corpse.

His expression was calm as he raised a hand to add a few more lines of fire, severing the head cleanly from the body before finally stopping.

At the same time, he spared a sliver of attention for the parchment interface.

The Dao Xing column gave a jump.

"Over a hundred and sixty points..."

His gaze drifted back to the monkey corpse.

A severed tail, a white face, black fur, the habit of throwing fruit pits...

He stared at the monkey for a long moment, then suddenly recalled—he had seen this creature in a book before.

The Classic of Mountains and Seas: Eastern Wastes recorded: "On Yingzhou there is a beast called the White-headed Macaque. Its face is like powdered makeup, its body like ink-dyed cloth, its tail longer than its body, supple as a serpent. It hides deep in the forest and delights in striking men with fruit pits; those struck die instantly. If its tail is severed, it does not die, but can crawl about on its own, seeking its master to be reborn."

His brow slowly furrowed.

Yingzhou lay at the eastern edge of the Eastern Sea, tens of thousands of li from Yongchang Commandery. How had this creature appeared here?

And "if its tail is severed, it does not die, but seeks its master to be reborn"?

Did that mean the monkey didn't die, or that the tail didn't die?

As he pondered, his peripheral vision caught the pool of blood.

The severed tail was gone!

His heart jolted. He whipped his head around, scanning his surroundings.

Only a patch of charred remains lay in the pile of dead leaves. The section of tail, over a zhang long, had vanished without a trace.

But when he had added those lines of fire, it had clearly still been there. Just a moment's distraction...

He followed the trail of blood.

A thin drag mark wound through the dead leaves, snaking deeper into the forest. The mark was so shallow that if not for careful observation, one might mistake it for the passage of a snake or insect.

Without a word, Shen Hui lifted his foot and gave chase.

The tail was badly wounded. It couldn't run fast or far.

He didn't pursue in a rush, but followed at a steady pace, keeping an eye on his surroundings as he went.

The drag mark was intermittent, sometimes disappearing into the leaf litter, only to reappear several zhang away.

He crossed a ridge, and the view opened up before him.

It was a small clearing, roughly two or three zhang square, with flat terrain surrounded by old trees.

Scattered haphazardly across the clearing were over a dozen white bones. Beside the bones lay firewood knives, ropes, machetes, and a collapsed bamboo sedan chair.

Shen Hui's steps faltered.

His gaze passed over the pile of bones and landed on the center of the clearing.

An old man sat cross-legged there.

By now, the severed tail had already fled to the edge of the cliff, crawling straight toward the old man.

The old man's gaze snapped over.

He spotted the severed tail at once, then the Shen Hui behind it. His gaunt face shifted dramatically, and he immediately called out in a loud voice:

"Daoist friend! Quickly, block this demonic creature for me!"