Chapter Fifty-Three: A Prophecy Fulfilled

“We can’t say for sure, young master. Why are you… so interested in all this?” Wu, the eldest among them, looked troubled as he spoke, clearly puzzled by Song Mu’s concern.

But Song Mu felt a flicker of caution rise in his heart. These men spoke of the so-called demon beast as if it were nothing, but from his own experience, he sensed this was no ordinary creature. It might even be much like the fox spirit he had encountered on his way to Yanggang before—for this demon beast, too, could conjure illusions. The stone wall that appeared out of nowhere to devour living things was surely nothing but a mirage.

And any demon beast with the power to weave illusions could not be common. It was likely of the demon general’s rank—a formidable foe indeed. For ordinary folk to attempt to hunt such a creature was little different from courting death.

Realizing this, Song Mu had stepped forward, and as he listened to their description, his expression grew grave.

“Gentlemen, I fear this demon beast is beyond your abilities. You ought to report this to the authorities,” he said solemnly.

At his words, the men exchanged uneasy glances, uncertain what to make of his warning. Sensing their hesitation, Song Mu pressed on, “This is no ordinary beast. It has likely already cultivated demon power and is very strong.”

His words sent a chill through the group. Had it been anyone else, they might have scoffed, but coming from a scholar, they felt compelled to consider it seriously.

“Sir, perhaps you overstate the danger. I’ve seen the beast myself. Though I couldn’t make out what kind of animal it was, it was only about as thick as a man’s thigh. With seven or eight of us together, we should be able to handle it,” one of the men protested, though the others looked uncertain.

Hunting demon beasts brought generous rewards—one could earn its weight in copper coins. For a beast that size, it would be worth dozens of strings of cash, maybe ten or more taels of silver. For farming families, aside from tilling the land or selling mountain goods, where else could they hope to earn such sums?

Seeing their determination to risk it, Song Mu felt uneasy. At that moment, Kong Zong entered, and Song Mu quickly explained the situation to him. Upon hearing about the man-eating stone wall, Kong Zong too sensed danger and joined in urging the men to abandon their plan.

The group hesitated. Not wanting to argue with scholars, the leader, Wu, suddenly smiled and nodded, “Very well, since you both advise it, we’ll drop the matter and report it to the authorities tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes, we won’t trouble ourselves with this any further,” another chimed in, bowing and hastily leaving. Song Mu watched them go, then exchanged a look with Kong Zong—they both knew these words were merely a pretense. These men would not easily give up the prospect of such reward.

Song Mu sighed quietly. Kong Zong pressed his lips together in helplessness, while Huang, the second brother, looked awkward, not knowing what to do.

“Brother Huang, you mustn’t get involved,” Song Mu advised him quietly, pressing a silk pouch into his hands. “If those brave men insist on going, let them take this. I cannot promise safety, but may it turn misfortune to fortune.”

He handed over the paper talisman given to him by Master Xun. Huang accepted it with many thanks.

Night fell. After a simple meal, everyone retired to their rooms. Song Mu lit a lamp and read, while Kong Zong, draped in his robe, glanced out at the sparsely starred sky.

“Perhaps tonight will pass in peace,” Kong Zong ventured.

“Perhaps,” Song Mu replied softly, returning to his book.

Deep into the night, Song Mu rose to snuff out the lamp and stepped outside to relieve himself. He had barely finished when a wailing, desperate cry and hurried footsteps echoed outside the post house.

“Brother Huang, Brother Huang, help! Quick, help us!” a hoarse, burly voice called out, alarmed and urgent. Lights flickered on in the adjacent courtyard, doors opened, and the hurried footsteps drew nearer. The voice was clearer now, trembling with fear.

“What’s happened, Wang? Where’s Brother Wu and the others?” Huang shouted.

“Something’s happened, brother! That demon beast… it killed men…” a gaunt man gasped out, bracing himself against the doorframe, two bloodied men behind him, faces ashen—all of them had come to see Huang earlier that day.

Huang cried out in dismay, and Old Huang hurried out as well, demanding an explanation.

“We went up the mountain with traps and set them as before, then split into two groups to lie in wait. Deep in the night, we heard beastly howls and rushed to one of the traps—only to find a weasel caught in it. As we were about to leave, the other group called for help. By the time we got there, Old Chen and Big Su were dead. Lunatic said Brother Wu and Ergou were snatched by the demon beast into a stone wall nearby. But when we looked, there was no stone wall at all. We didn’t dare linger, so we dragged back Old Chen’s body and the others and fled.”

“Brother Huang, let’s gather everyone in town—maybe together we can put an end to this,” the gaunt man pleaded, still shaken. Another quickly added, “Why not ask that scholar? Didn’t the young master say so today? Scholars have magical arts—perhaps they can save Brother Wu!”

“Yes, let’s go find them at the other courtyard,” the gaunt man said, moving urgently in that direction. By now, Song Mu’s room was lit, and he stepped out. Master Xun and the others, drawn by the commotion, came out in their robes.

“Sir, I beg you—save us! That demon beast has taken our brothers!” the gaunt man cried, falling to his knees before Song Mu. Song Mu’s brow furrowed, his face dark.

Indeed, the demon beast was extraordinary—and now it had killed men.

Still, what could he do? He was but a scholar, and could not possibly go hunting monsters in the dead of night.

“My good man, I fear I am powerless to help. The demon is surely beyond my abilities,” Song Mu explained. The man only sobbed quietly, despair etched on his face, while others clamored to gather men and, if need be, set the mountain alight.

“Did any of you see the demon’s true form?” Master Xun’s calm voice cut through the clamor. He had already grasped the situation.

At the sound of a more dignified and learned voice, the men turned to him as if to a savior, bowing and crying out, “Yes, yes, we saw it—it was a white fox!”

“No, it wasn’t a fox—its body was too long. It was a snow mink!”

“Nonsense! Where are there snow minks here? It was a white-furred weasel, I’m sure of it!”

And so the arguments went on…