The Black Mountain Bear Lord of Old Is Dead!

"..."

The leading martial monk frowned and cocked his ear, listening for a while.

"Probably something that came running from somewhere else. Enough, enough—get back to work! If you miss the hour and the supervisor blames us, none of you will have anything good waiting for you!"

No one dared say another word.

They could only bury their heads and work.

The little novice monk was young and weak to begin with. After digging for a while, both his arms had long since grown so sore and limp that he could barely lift them.

He gasped heavily, his face covered in sweat mixed with grime.

"Whew... whew..."

He stopped, leaned on his shovel, and rested for a moment.

Just as he gritted his teeth and prepared to scoop up another load of dirt, a hand reached out from the darkness beside him and seized the shovel handle.

"Tired?"

The little novice assumed it was some kind senior brother lending a hand, and warmth filled his heart.

He did not even look up. He let go of the handle and wiped the sweat from his face.

"Th... thank you, Senior Brother. The soil is too hard. I really can't dig anymore."

"No need to thank me. You rest for now."

The little novice froze.

Wait...

Something seemed wrong.

That voice... why did it sound so strange?

Trembling, the little novice slowly turned his neck.

An inch at a time.

Until his gaze met the person beside him.

A pair of eyes glimmering with a ghostly green light appeared and disappeared in the gloom.

When it saw him looking over, its long snout split open, revealing a mouthful of jagged, crisscrossing, bone-white fangs.

A foul, hot stench sprayed across his face.

"..."

"Demon... There's a demon..."

Warm liquid instantly soaked through his