It was about two or three li from Half-Mountain to the nameless village.
Pan Long shielded a group of trembling villagers from the howling wind. Before he even entered the village, he saw the enormous head.
It looked mostly like a snake's, but a short, single horn rose from the middle of its forehead. Several whiskers grew on either side of its jaw, and its snout had a distinct ridge. It was clearly partway through changing from snake to dragon—perhaps a Flood Dragon or a Horned Dragon.
As the villagers had said, the head was absurdly large. It stood higher than the tallest house in the village, even higher than the tree near the entrance that held a small hut, apparently used as a Lookout.
Though it was dead, it still gave off a chilling aura: the natural pressure a powerful, hostile creature exerted on weaker beings.
Pan Long saw at once that no one could live in the village until the head was removed.
Martial artists who had trained hard, tempered their bodies, and forged their wills through blood and sweat might endure it. Ordinary people near that head would certainly struggle to eat or sleep. It would be no wonder if they could not sit still. Even if they forced themselves to eat, they would suffer indigestion; even if exhaustion sent them to sleep, nightmares would wake them.
Before long, that pressure would frighten them to death.
Seeing that the villagers were too terrified to go any farther, he sighed and led them to a large rock that offered shelter from the wind, telling them to hide behind it.
"Stay here. Don't wander off," he instructed them. "I'll find a way to move that head so you can go home without fear."
With that, he entered the village