Volume One, Chapter 11: Gifts from the Family

Montage returned to his room in low spirits. The moment he lay down, his eyelids fell shut of their own accord. Just then, a soft shuffling of footsteps sounded at his ear.

"Who’s there?"

Montage jerked awake, coming face to face with Meng Tiantian’s bright, limpid eyes.

"What are you doing? Why aren’t you asleep in the middle of the night? What do you want in my room?" he snapped, pushing her away with little patience.

"What else? Tomorrow—no, today is your birthday. Did you forget?" Meng Tiantian huffed as she brushed his hand aside.

"My birthday?" Montage was momentarily stunned, then glanced at the date on his phone—September sixteenth.

It really was his birthday!

"My memory’s something else. If you hadn’t mentioned it, I’d have completely forgotten," Montage said, slapping his forehead with a wry smile.

"Here, this is your birthday present from me. Honestly, who opens gifts in front of the giver? Wait until I leave before you open it!" Meng Tiantian scolded, slapping his hand away as he reached for the wrapping.

"Thanks!" Montage waved the gift, smiling in gratitude.

"Remember, this is our little secret. Don’t tell anyone—especially not our family," Meng Tiantian whispered with an air of mystery.

"Alright, I get it," Montage replied, smiling helplessly.

His sister was wonderful in every respect—sweet, adorable, thoughtful, and gentle. The only thing that irked him was her hopeless crushes. She’d freeze up whenever she spotted a handsome boy and changed boyfriends more often than she changed clothes. She’d even run off with a blond delinquent once. Though she came back eventually, he never quite got over it. He’d talked to her about it countless times, but it never seemed to make any difference. Complaining to their parents didn’t help either; they just told him to mind his own business.

After Meng Tiantian left, Montage opened her gift and found a white T-shirt inside. He couldn’t tell what material it was, but it felt soft and light, comfortable to the touch.

"That girl really put some thought into this," he said with a broad grin, placing the shirt beside his pillow before drifting into a deep sleep.

Meanwhile, Wang Meng and Sun Yueyue returned to the base to find Yue Shan sitting in a chair, smoking, his expression heavy with worry.

"What’s wrong, Captain? Something on your mind?" Wang Meng plopped down beside him, helping himself to a cigarette and lighting it without ceremony.

"My right eye’s been twitching ever since we came back. I looked it up—today’s the college entrance exam, and it’s a full moon. I’m worried something might happen," Yue Shan said heavily, taking a deep drag.

"It probably won’t. We’ve had college entrance exams and full moons coincide before and nothing’s happened. What are the odds?" Wang Meng laughed, trying to reassure him.

"But the fog has never arrived early before," Yue Shan said, giving him a sharp look.

Wang Meng fell silent.

That was true. The fog’s appearance yesterday was unusual, and no one had figured out why. Whenever there was a full moon, the monsters grew more active. If something went wrong...

"What did Old Jiang have to say?" Sun Yueyue asked.

"He’s uneasy too. That’s why he went to the meeting today—to request reinforcements from headquarters," Yue Shan answered frankly.

"Reinforcements?" Wang Meng and Sun Yueyue exchanged surprised glances.

"Could it be that one of the Nine Chief Instructors is coming?" Sun Yueyue asked excitedly.

"Who else could make it across the wilderness to help us?" Yue Shan replied with a bitter smile.

The Nine Chief Instructors were the pillars of Huaxia. Unless in exceptional circumstances, they rarely left their posts. He hadn’t expected Old Jiang to consider calling on them. That alone was cause for concern—if even Old Jiang wasn’t confident in handling the crisis.

"If it’s meant to be a blessing, it will be; if not, we can’t avoid it. No use worrying. Get some rest, save your strength for whatever happens," Wang Meng said, patting Yue Shan’s shoulder.

"Hey, didn’t you drop out of middle school? Since when did you become so philosophical?" Sun Yueyue teased, surprised.

Wang Meng’s already dark face grew even darker at her words.

"Enough, you two should rest as well. Be ready for anything," Yue Shan said, tossing his cigarette butt to the ground and crushing it out underfoot.

"Yes, sir!" Wang Meng and Sun Yueyue replied in unison.

Night passed without incident. At seven in the morning, Montage rose early to brew medicine for his grandmother. Just as he was about to prick his finger and drip blood into the medicine pot, a figure appeared behind him.

"No need to make medicine today," came the voice of his pregnant grandmother as she entered, leaning on her cane.

"Ah, Grandma, you scared me! How do you walk so quietly?" Montage nearly knocked over the medicine pot in his fright.

"You’ve got exams today. Don’t waste your blood making medicine for me," she said.

"But your health..." Montage protested.

"Missing one dose won’t kill me," she replied, shuffling out with her cane.

Watching her retreating figure, Montage was deeply moved; he hadn’t expected his grandmother to care so much for him. Still, he was too set in his ways. He pricked his finger and let two drops of his blood fall into the medicine just the same.

Pouring the potion into a bowl, he was about to leave when he caught sight of a little old man wearing a red scarf, sneaking around at the door.

"Grandpa, what are you up to?" Montage called out, exasperated.

His grandfather, despite his age, was as mischievous as a child.

"Heh heh... Good boy, it’s your birthday today. Grandpa’s got a present for you." The old man glanced furtively around before pulling a red cloth bag from his pocket.

"What’s this?" Montage opened the bag to find a pitch-black stick of wood that looked oddly familiar.

"It’s good stuff. Eat it quickly, and don’t let anyone else see," the old man urged, glancing around like a thief.

"This thing’s edible?" Montage eyed the black stick, unable to imagine it as food.

"Oh, just eat it! You think I’d hurt you?" Grumbling at his hesitation, the old man snatched the stick and shoved it straight into Montage’s mouth.

Just as Montage began to struggle, he realized that the seemingly hard stick melted instantly on his tongue. A rich medicinal aroma filled his mouth, and a warm current spread through his abdomen to every part of his body. Every cell seemed to rejoice, like parched earth receiving long-awaited rain.

"Is there more? Can I have another?" Montage asked eagerly, licking his lips.

"That’s all there is!" his grandfather snapped, shooting him a glare before stomping off in a huff.

"Fine, no need to get angry," Montage muttered in bemusement.

He meant to say goodbye to his family, but found everyone had disappeared. On the way out, Montage felt light as a feather, brimming with energy. Even the spiritual power that had been drained by the Demon Tree was surging within him once more.

[Boy, the Spiritual Fruit is about to ripen. If you don’t pick it soon, it’ll revert to its nine-faced form.]

Just then, a voice sounded in Montage’s mind.