My name is Chen Huangpi.

Ten Thousand Great Mountains, towering and perilous.

On the Jade Qiong Mountain, within the Pure Immortal Temple.

The main hall rose ten meters high.

Three portraits of Daoist priests adorned the yellow-mud plastered walls.

With his back to the portraits, Chen Huangpi held the Medicine Classic, lost deep in thought.

Recently, his master had become deranged from his training.

He insisted that he actually had three masters.

The eldest master wore a purple robe, the second a white robe, and the third a blue robe.

He even removed the original deities from the shrine, replacing them with his own three portraits.

He claimed that the Pure Immortal Temple didn’t support idlers, let alone idle gods.

Since they all ate for nothing, he said, better to worship himself.

Chen Huangpi found this quite reasonable, and considered that when his master passed away, he’d replace the portraits with his own.

Suddenly, Chen Huangpi set the Medicine Classic aside.

“Master is coming.”

No sooner had he spoken than an elderly Daoist with white hair, dressed in a purple robe trimmed with black and embroidered with red plum blossoms, rushed in, shouting all the while.

“Huangpi, Huangpi!”

“Mas—Eldest Master, what’s wrong?”

Chen Huangpi had instinctively wanted to call him “Master,” but upon seeing the color of his robe, quickly corrected himself.

His master was as stubborn as a mule.

If he claimed there were three masters, one must not confuse their ranks or titles.

Otherwise, he would get angry.

And once angry, it would take half a day to calm him.

Chen Huangpi had no wish to provoke him.

The elder in purple, drooling, exclaimed excitedly, “Huangpi, by my calculations, today is your birthday. After today, you’ll be nine.”

Chen Huangpi shook his head. “Eldest Master, you’ve got it wrong. This time last year I was only seven. After today, I’ll clearly be eight.”

“But you said the same last year.”

“And the year before that.”

“And the year before that.”

“Then I must have made a mistake. Let’s count from the start—after today, I’m eight.”

“Very well. If only you were nine.” The elder in purple seemed quietly wounded, wiping away drool in frustration.

Chen Huangpi shook his head inwardly.

His master’s madness seemed only to worsen.

He really ought to spend more time gathering herbs in the mountains, or else his master, at his age, would suffer terribly in his derangement.

“Master, I’m heading into the mountains. I’ll make you a meat broth when I return tonight.”

Grabbing a brass oil lamp, Chen Huangpi set out.

The purple-robed elder, still drooling, called after him, “Be back before dark, or you might run into something foul blocking your way.”

“Got it.”

Chen Huangpi’s voice faded into the distance.

The purple-robed elder stood in place, his stomach growling hungrily.

Suddenly, his expression shifted, and he crawled on hands and knees to the meditation cushion where Chen Huangpi had been sitting. Drawing a deep breath, he exclaimed with rapture, “Fragrant, so fragrant! More than ever before. If only Huangpi were nine!”

“Just another year. Just one more.”

“No, there’s no need to wait.”

Had Chen Huangpi been there, he would have cried out in shock: “Second Master, how are you out in the day?”

For at that moment, the purple robe had become white.

…

The mountain paths were treacherous and slick, the canopy above blocking out the sun.

With a pack on his back and a brass oil lamp at his waist, Chen Huangpi moved with the swiftness of the wind.

The mountains were rife with dangers and evil things.

Gathering herbs was no easy task.

During the day it was manageable, but being out at night meant risking encounters with foul spirits.

A few days ago, delayed by rain, Chen Huangpi was caught on the mountain after dark while gathering herbs.

A headless man blocked his way.

The man immediately asked if Chen Huangpi had seen his head.

Chen Huangpi said no, and the man then demanded his head instead.

Chen Huangpi had only one head and was naturally unwilling.

But the man offered to buy it.

A whole string of coins!

After some hesitation, Chen Huangpi replied that he could sell it, but he had to cook for his master that night; he couldn’t go without a head.

The man thought for a while, then agreed to collect the head the next day, but only if Chen Huangpi signed a contract.

Hearing such a good deal, Chen Huangpi agreed.

But the next day, he waited and waited, and the man never came.

Only a contract book appeared in the main hall.

And so, Chen Huangpi got a string of coins for free.

…

After some time gathering, Chen Huangpi’s pack was full of herbs—ginseng, cardamom, white amomum, wolfberry, star anise—everything one could wish for.

He was about to head back.

Suddenly, the brass oil lamp at his waist sprouted facial features and called out, “Chen Huangpi, Chen Huangpi!”

“Huang’er, what is it?”

The lamp said, “Don’t go back to the temple. I’ve overheard the abbot say more than once that he wants to eat you. But since you’re not yet nine, he won’t eat you—so he gnaws on me instead. Look at all the bite marks on my body.”

As it spoke, the lamp grew slender arms and pointed out the marks on its side.

But Chen Huangpi shook his head. “Huang’er, don’t worry. Master’s teeth are bad; he can’t break you.”

“Easy for you to say—he’s not gnawing on you.”

“Chen Huangpi, let’s run away! Don’t you want to see the world? Today’s a great opportunity.”

Of course, Chen Huangpi wanted to see the world.

In truth, aside from his own master, he had never seen another living soul.

But his master was mad.

Chen Huangpi wanted to cure him; otherwise, he would never rest easy.

“There will be more chances in the future!”

“Sigh, I can’t persuade you.”

The lamp sighed and, seeing further argument was useless, grabbed some yellow mud and smeared it over the bite marks, making itself look dirty and unremarkable.

Chen Huangpi turned to head back.

The outward journey was tough, having to gather herbs. Returning, he only needed to walk.

Just then, a thunderous crash echoed from deep within the mountains.

Boom!

Boom!

The sound came in waves.

Chen Huangpi frowned, and leapt to the treetops. In the next instant, he saw a monstrous, blue-black silhouette.

The figure was dozens of meters high, faceless, its whole body a mass of blue-black, chest bare and breasts exposed, its crown-shaped head covered in tumors. A gaping maw split its chest, filled with jagged teeth and a bloody, barbed tongue. From its hands extended two enormous eyes, seeming to pierce everything.

With each step, the creature made the earth tremble, sending dust flying and trees crashing down.

Black smoke coiled around its every movement.

Wherever the smoke touched, trees and grass withered to charred black, as if corrupted.

Several black-clad figures swept through the air, fleeing as if pursued by death.

Chen Huangpi recognized the monster.

It was one of the temple’s former gods, whose statue his master had removed from the shrine.

One night, while relieving himself, Chen Huangpi had seen it circling outside the Pure Immortal Temple. When it saw him, it complained that it was too cold outside, and not as warm as the hall.

Feeling sorry for it, Chen Huangpi had almost invited it in.

But his master appeared out of nowhere, startling the creature into vanishing into the night.

He remembered his master’s words: “It’s corrupted. If you let it in, it’ll eat you. The Pure Immortal Temple allows no fourth man-eater.”

This frightened Chen Huangpi. He searched long but never found the other three man-eaters.

After that, he never saw the mutated idol again.

He hadn’t expected to encounter it here today—and before dark, no less.

Just then, the mutated idol seemed to sense something. The eyes in its palms turned toward Chen Huangpi.

“Huh! It remembers me.”

Chen Huangpi’s heart leapt in alarm. He immediately dropped from the treetop and sprinted toward the temple with all his might.

At that moment, a voice sounded by his ear.

“Little one, are you from around here?”

Before he could react, Chen Huangpi felt his feet leave the ground.

He looked back to see the black-clad figures from before now flanking him, one of them—a goateed old man—holding him aloft.

Chen Huangpi nodded obediently.

Someone exclaimed, “I’d heard there were still survivors eking out a living in these mountains. Who knew it was true?”

Another looked Chen Huangpi over. “Steel bones and iron tendons—he’s even a Body Tempering cultivator.”

Chen Huangpi didn’t know what Body Tempering meant.

He couldn’t cultivate anyway, so whatever they said was fine by him.

“Enough talk. Night is falling. That thing will be even more terrifying in the dark.”

One looked back at the monstrous idol hot on their heels.

Maybe it was their imagination, but the thing seemed to move much faster now—just moments ago it had been slower, but now, as if injected with raw ferocity, it swept across the landscape like a dragon overturning the earth.

The goateed elder asked, “Since you live nearby, and wear a Daoist’s attire, there must be a temple close, yes?”

“Night is coming—could we seek shelter under your temple’s god, just for one night?”

In this world, night brought forth a different skin; evil and bizarre things abounded.

Without a god’s protection, unless you were peerless, you’d never survive the countless evils emerging from the darkness.

The old man and his group had brought their own statue for protection, but as soon as they set it out, the monstrous idol had swallowed it whole.

They hadn’t even managed to send word back.

Never had they seen such a horror; they fled in terror for their lives.

Chen Huangpi wanted to warn them that the thing chasing them was his own temple’s god, but before he could speak, the old man interrupted.

“Don’t worry—just this once. We’ll leave at dawn, and reward you handsomely!”

Grinning, Chen Huangpi replied, “Very well, I’ll lead you.”

But then, he grew wary.

“What if you go back on your word?”

The group grew anxious.

The monstrous idol was closing in—life and death left no time for haggling.

“I’m an old man—could I possibly cheat a child?”

“You never know. Unless…”

“Unless what…”

Chen Huangpi shook his head and produced a yellowed booklet. “Unless it’s in black and white, signed and stamped. Otherwise, I don’t believe you.”

“I’ll sign now!”

“All of you must sign.”

When they’d all signed, Chen Huangpi was delighted. “Follow me—head east.”

With Chen Huangpi guiding them, hope of survival returned.

Each of them flew with all their strength, gulping down restorative pills one after another, heedless of whether their meridians could withstand it.

The mutated idol, seeing Chen Huangpi about to be taken away, roared skyward in fury.

Chen Huangpi huddled in the old man’s arms.

“Don’t be afraid, child. I’ll risk damaging my foundation before I let that thing catch you.”

“Mm!”

Chen Huangpi nodded obediently.

Not far off, among the shadowy mountains,

A Daoist temple loomed in the mist.

As the group crossed the threshold, night suddenly fell, as if the world were shrouded in a black cloth. Not a single star shone; only a blurred, crimson moon hung in the sky, blinking like an eye.

The mutated idol halted reluctantly, its chest-maw disgorging a man-sized statue. The statue, seemingly alive, furrowed its brows, black smoke corroding its body, crackling and hissing.

No sooner had it emerged than the statue opened its eyes, about to flee, but before it could, the mutated idol smashed it to pieces with a slap.

With a furious roar, it devoured the fragments, glaring at Chen Huangpi and the others as they entered the temple, then finally vanished into the darkness, unwilling to concede.