Fengxue’s whole body went taut.
The giant rat’s nostrils flared, its pointed snout working carefully through the layers of scent in the air.
There were plenty of monsters at the feast, and monsters weren’t exactly known for cleanliness, most went a whole year without a proper bath. Every creature there carried its own reek of musk and rot, all the smells tangled together, making it hard to pick anything out.
The rat sniffed a few more times, stroked its whiskers, and said with a laugh, “Must’ve been mistaken.”
Fengxue let out a breath of relief.
Thank goodness they’d changed into the yellow weasels’ robes, otherwise the rat would very likely have sniffed her out.
Just then, a light breeze drifted past.
The night air was faintly cool, shaking loose a few apricot blossoms, several snow-white petals settled onto Fengxue’s shoulder.
It was an entirely ordinary, pleasant evening breeze, and yet the rat, having already abandoned the scent trail, suddenly whipped its head back around. It set down the great jar of century-aged wine, dropped low to the ground, and began sniffing frantically in every direction.
The other spirits’ attention was drawn by this too.
“Has a swordsman snuck in among us?”
“Hahaha, quick, drag them out, I want them as a side dish for my wine, I’ll swallow them whole!”
“What a waste, swallowing them whole. A feast like this deserves better, skin them properly, slice off the meat piece by piece, share and share alike.”
…
The giant rat drew closer and closer to Fengxue.
The other spirits’ greedy stares followed right along with it.
The rat sniffed its way over to a little spirit carrying a tray nearby.
Sniffing left, sniffing right.
At one moment it tugged at the little spirit’s skirt with a claw, and the next it groped at its tail.
The little spirits trembled with fear, too frightened to stay upright, some dropping to all fours on the ground, others coiling themselves around tree trunks.
One of the little maidservants, dressed in a gauze skirt with a veil over her face, suddenly shuddered, her robes fluttering to the ground as a round, plump bamboo rat scrambled out from beneath the loose fabric and bolted to flee.
A thread of white silk shot out like a bolt of cold lightning, skewering the bamboo rat instantly.
The little creature’s claws still twitched, letting out a soft, pained wail, dragged along the ground by the white thread, leaving a long streak of blood behind.
The silken thread hauled it before the spider spirit.
The spider beauty’s face remained utterly serene, eyes half-lidded, brows lowered, as composed as some merciful deity in a temple shrine. The silk thread reeled inward, and the still-struggling bamboo rat was tossed straight into the spider’s gaping mouth, crunching and grinding into fragments.
With the smell of blood now in the air, the spirits grew even more excited, pounding on the tables, laughing and clamoring like a rising tide.
Fengxue tightened her grip on her earth-escape talisman and turned her head toward Ye Pengzhou, ready to slip one to him too.
She reached out and patted the youth’s shoulder, the instant her fingers touched him, she felt his whole body trembling.
However terrifying a monster he might become one day, right now, he was still just a youth who’d never faced anything like this.
A pang of guilt struck her, for having dragged him into such danger, and she asked quietly, “Are you scared?”
The figure beside her, veil trembling faintly, let out a soft, gentle sound. “Cheep?”
Fengxue: …
She lowered her eyes and glimpsed a small feathered wing tucked beneath the wide sleeve, and, expression unchanged, lifted her head again, continuing to search the crowd of spirits for Ye Pengzhou.
Every creature seated at the feast wore its beastly true form, snake, rat, bug, bird, none of them looked remotely human. And the veiled little spirits skulking in the shadows, white robes swaying, faces hidden, were nearly impossible to tell apart.
Her eyes swept quickly across the surroundings, but the giant rat had already worked its way through the spirits nearest her, and was sniffing its way toward the hem of her own robe.
Fengxue hesitated a moment, then let go of the escape talisman in her hand and instead gripped the sword hilt hidden beneath her robe, pressing down silently on it.
She watched, calm, as the rat crept closer and closer, preparing to take its head off in one stroke the instant it drew near, she’d figure out how to find Ye Pengzhou afterward.
“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it.”
The rat’s whiskers trembled, blood-red light flaring in its eyes, its fangs bared, murmuring excitedly under its breath, “This is the scent, no mistaking it, this is exactly the scent…”
Suddenly, a thick, heady wine fragrance spread through the night air.
The smell was intensely strong, sharp enough to sting the nose, many of the little spirits, catching a whiff of it, collapsed at once, thoroughly intoxicated, reverting to their true forms.
Fengxue looked up.
The great wine jar in the middle of the hall had somehow sprung a crack. A veiled little spirit, limp and unsteady, staggered toward it in a drunken stupor, crying loudly, “Wine, such fragrant wine!”
The boar spirit swung an iron hoof and knocked the little spirit flat on the ground.
But in that instant of chaos, the giant rat inhaled sharply and caught only the overpowering scent of wine. It shook its head, thoroughly dazed by the fumes, and spun in a woozy circle on the spot.
Monsters were creatures of pure indulgence by nature, only their fear of Lord Manshan had kept the feast’s decorum intact so far. But now, with wine in the air and blood already spilled, the beast in each of them stirred, the swordsman forgotten entirely as they scrambled to grab at the spilled wine on the ground.
A little girl bent down to lick some spilled wine off the floor and suddenly transformed into a white civet cat, rolling around on the ground, a bird spirit took a sip and let out a shrill cry as it reverted to its true form, taking flight into the night sky, only to be swallowed whole, halfway up, by a massive black python…
In the blink of an eye, the feast was awash in the smell of wine and blood, the spirits tearing off their robes to reveal their true beastly forms, blood-streaked feathers spiraling down from the air in every direction.
“Little Immortal Maiden.” A youth, dust and grime all over his face, returned to Fengxue’s side. “I’m back.”
Fengxue asked, worried, “You weren’t hurt just now?”
The moment the chaos-causing little spirit had appeared, she’d recognized it as Ye Pengzhou at once, and couldn’t help a flicker of gratitude.
She’d seen it clearly just now, the moment the boar spirit swung its hoof, before it had even touched the youth’s chest, he’d already dropped to the ground. Dropped with the practiced ease of fragile porcelain shattering before it was even struck.
The boar spirit, utterly baffled by this “sympathy fainting,” had actually lifted its hoof to inspect it.
Fengxue wasn’t worried about him getting hurt by the boar, she was only worried that, caught in the crush of a hundred surging spirits just now, he might have taken some bumps and bruises.
Ye Pengzhou grinned. “I’m fine, I’ve had plenty of practice falling down, that old pig never even touched me. Little Immortal Maiden, wasn’t that neatly done?”
Fengxue made a soft sound of agreement.
Ye Pengzhou said, “Can’t you actually compliment me properly?”
Fengxue said, “Once we’re out of here, drinks are on me.”
Only then did Ye Pengzhou break into a real smile. “It’s a deal!”
Dark clouds had drifted over and swallowed the bright moon, in the murky night, the garden no longer resembled the elegant feast it had started as at all. Tables lay overturned, spirits danced in chaos, a scene of pure monstrous disorder.
Fengxue looked up and saw the smile on Lord Manshan’s face, seated at the head of the table, had gone stiff.
Which made sense, really.
Whether human or spirit, no one would be pleased to see their own banquet dissolve into this.
The chaos at the feast didn’t last much longer, though.
Lord Manshan finally acted.
“Clouds veiling the moon,” he said with a smile. “Let me offer everyone a bright moon of my own, to keep the mood alive.”
He produced a pair of scissors and, with a casual snip, cut a piece of white paper. A round, glowing jade disc rose up above the table.
The jade disc flew up into the clouds and transformed into a bright moon, its silvery light gleaming, sharp and clear.
The other spirits forgot all about their drinking and cried out in loud admiration.
Lord Manshan said with a smile, “Wine and moonlight, and no beauty to keep us company, wouldn’t that be a shame? Let heavenly maidens descend to add to our merriment.”
He raised a hand and pointed again, and the bright moon released a flurry of ribbon-draped celestial maidens, drifting down.
The maidens were no bigger than the palm of a hand, cradling pipa and long zithers, playing music and dancing as they descended, celestial melodies drifting through the air.
Lord Manshan raised his empty wine cup. “My friends, on such a fine night with such fine scenery, let us all drink together.”
The tables righted themselves, the empty cups on them slowly filling with wine, while the wine spilled on the ground and in the jars gradually vanished.
Fengxue looked down and saw the blood-streaked wine on the ground gathering into a gorgeous, rainbow-colored ribbon, gleaming with a bloody sheen beneath the bright moonlight.
The ribbon flowed backward, streaming up and pouring itself back into the wine jars.
The spirits settled down, no longer clamoring, taking their seats and raising their cups of fine wine.
The moonlight was pure and clear, the wine cool and refreshing, ghosts and monsters sharing the same toast together.
A truly bizarre scene, by any mortal standard.
Lord Manshan said cheerfully, “For a hundred years now, I’ve enjoyed all of your good company as neighbors. Tonight, my cultivation has finally borne fruit, and I’m soon to be summoned by the Heavenly Lord to take up an official post, ascending to eternal bliss. So I’ve laid out this feast to honor a century of good neighborly ties.”
The man in the black robe said impatiently, “Enough of this refined talk, like some scholar. All of us came here for one thing. How exactly do you become an immortal?”
The other spirits turned, visibly excited, toward the old man seated at the head of the table.
For them, even cultivating into human form was an almost impossibly difficult task, transforming into an immortal was something they wouldn’t even dare dream of.
The heretical technique Lord Manshan used was, in truth, quite simple. It came down to a single word: ‘theft.’
There was an old saying among mortals about stealing another’s fate to swap for one’s own.
People firmly believed that fates carried inherent worth, some were born to wealth and privilege, others born to nothing. A person of noble fate, even temporarily poor, would eventually soar, a person of lowly fate, even sitting atop mountains of gold and silver, would in the end come to nothing.
But a “fate” could be stolen.
Steal a person’s fortunate destiny through heretical arts, and they’d fall into misery and poverty, while the thief who took that good fate for themselves would naturally enjoy wealth and good fortune for the rest of their life.
That was why people were always reluctant to freely share their exact birth date and hour, for fear some heretical cultivator might steal their fate away.
Lord Manshan had stolen a fate too. But the fate he’d stolen belonged to a dead man.
The Zhang family’s great-grandfather had been a kind, generous man, a hundred years ago he’d relieved the suffering of countless famine victims, and even after death, he’d continued to watch over the region, accumulating a wealth of merit.
When Lord Manshan later arrived in this area and discovered the old man, he’d hit upon a scheme.
He’d dug open the great-grandfather’s coffin, sealed himself inside it, and let his own spirit possess the old man’s corpse, stealing the merit and virtue accumulated in the afterlife, absorbing all the incense offerings the Zhang family made.
He’d been a heretical cultivator of some skill in life, and with decades of patient, persistent effort, he had finally succeeded in taking the old man’s place entirely.
It was old Master Zhang whose merit had reached its full measure. It was old Master Zhang who was meant to become an immortal.
But Lord Manshan had switched the beams and replaced the pillars [1]secretly swapped the substance while keeping up appearances jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3024839_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3024839_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });, taking over the old man’s position for himself.
Now, all that remained was to consume the golden elixir, one final step, and he’d soar straight to heaven, his merit complete, an immortal at last.
Lord Manshan raised his cup and drank deeply, an unmistakable air of pride crossing his face. “No harm in telling you all, since we’re among friends, though this method of mine requires the right timing, the right location, and the right circumstances all at once. Not one of the three can be missing. If any of you can manage the same, then that’s your own fortune to seize.”
The black-robed snake spirit, having finished off the younger turtledove sister, flicked out its tongue and laughed. “I’ve often heard mortals speak of ‘stealing a person’, didn’t expect you old ghost to play it even more elaborately. Even stealing from a ghost.”
The spider spirit spoke in a shrill, thin voice, apparently trying to mimic the bright, clear voice of a young mortal woman, though what came out instead was strange and grating, thoroughly affected. “Hehe, we could never manage that. So to ascend, you first have to become human, and becoming human is already hard enough. No point even dreaming of immortality.”
Lord Manshan said encouragingly, “Cultivate diligently, all of you. First achieve human form, then work toward immortality.”
The spider spirit, still crunching away at the meat on the table, said, “Once I’m human, I don’t think I’ll want to become an immortal at all. Being human sounds far more comfortable.”
“That’s right, that’s right. So many more people dying these days,” the other spirits said, monsters tended to have a sharper sense than most for shifts in the mortal world. “Things are about to fall apart out there. Just about time for us to come out of hiding.”
Lord Manshan asked, “And what are your plans, then?”
The giant rat said, “I’m thinking of buying myself an official post, seeing what it’s like to be a cut above everyone else. Although I’ll have to stay well away from Qingming Mountain, can’t risk being anywhere near there now.”
A crow spirit said, “I’m heading north. I hear there’s a war going on there, bodies piling up on the ground.”
Its eyes flared red, its tone wistful. “All that rare, delicious meat, just waiting.”
“You’d do better going to Jingzhou instead. There’s a terrible drought there, even more people dying.”
The crow spirit spat. “They’re starved down to bone by then. What flavor’s left in that? Chewy as rock, you’ll crack a tooth on it.”
The other spirits burst into raucous laughter.
As the monsters got to talking about the taste of human flesh, the whole crowd grew increasingly animated, some claimed old people’s flesh was tough as firewood, but had its own particular flavor, good with a drink, a grown man’s flesh was firm, a woman’s soft and tender, and a baby’s, well, needless to say, was among the rarest delicacies in the world…
“It’s all Qingming Mountain’s fault!” one spirit suddenly snarled, teeth grinding. “If it weren’t for that pack of little Daoists, why would I have to sneak around just to eat a single person, only daring to hunt in the deepest mountains and forests?”
The other spirits chimed in eagerly.
A brawny wolf spirit said loudly, “Those unreasonable Daoists! I’ve only eaten a handful of people, and already they want to skin me, but what about the executioners who’ve beheaded hundreds, thousands of people? Why don’t they go kill those men? What about the officials sitting in their courts, secretly pocketing the grain meant for famine relief, letting thousands starve to death? Why don’t they go kill those men? They just pick on us monsters because we’re weaker!”
“That’s right, that’s right, just bullying us monsters because we’re weak.”
“People eat us, we eat people, that’s simply the natural order. What right does Qingming Mountain have to go against heaven’s own way? Going against heaven like that, sooner or later they’ll pay for it!”
Another spirit grumbled, “Exactly. Those threadbare paupers, patches all over their robes, and instead of finding some way to make actual money, they come after us instead. I once saw a fellow spirit offer up ten thousand taels of silver just to spare his own life, and they still took him and refined him into an elixir. Mortals have a saying, a man who won’t take free money is a fool, well, if you ask me, everyone on Qingming Mountain is exactly that kind of fool.”
“No need to fret, friends,” the snake spirit said with a laugh. “Heaven’s mandate is nearly upon us. Even Qingming Mountain can’t stand against fate itself, soon enough, the world will belong to us. When that day comes, everyone can eat their fill, without a care in the world!”
The other spirits grew even more worked up, laughter rolling like waves, one after another, shaking the ground, sloshing the wine in every cup. The pure, luminous moonlight took on a dark, sinister tinge of demonic energy.
Suddenly, one spirit called out loudly, “Mountain Lord, how disappointing, wine and moonlight, but no meat to eat!”
The “meat” it meant, of course, wasn’t the sort sitting on the table.
Lord Manshan said with a smile, “How could there be wine without meat? I’ve already prepared it for everyone.”
He raised a finger and tapped it against the table.
Several paper figures carried over a large platter. The instant the red cloth over it was lifted away, Fengxue couldn’t help turning her face aside.
She heard Lord Manshan say with a laugh, “I hear there’s a famous dish in the southern regions called roast suckling pig. Tonight, why don’t we try roast suckling human instead.”
The spirits burst into wild laughter, clamoring and jostling as they tore into the person on the platter, a scene straight out of hell itself.
Fengxue walked out of the feast.
Returning to the alchemy courtyard, she lifted her veil and drew in a breath of the cool night air, only just managing to push down the nausea and revulsion churning in her.
Most monsters and ghosts in this world really were like this, bloodthirsty, savage, fond of human flesh…
The methods recorded in the ‘Record of Cloud-Wandering’, slaying monsters, exorcising ghosts, skinning them, refining them into pills, weren’t cruelty for cruelty’s sake. Disciples who didn’t do these things simply got eaten by the monsters first.
If someday, would she become one of these very same creatures?
Fengxue thought of her past life, and for a moment lost herself in a daze, until Ye Pengzhou’s voice brought her back, and she turned her head to look.
Beneath the vast, empty moonlight, the youth’s face was pale as paper, but his eyes were unmistakably bright. “Little Immortal Maiden, I have a bold idea.”
Fengxue held his gaze for a moment, then suddenly raised her brows and laughed. “What a coincidence. I have a dangerous idea too.”
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