Chapter Six: The First Words

After consuming three pills, Liuchou's physique advanced yet again. By now, its body had reached the threshold of a late-stage Enlightened Speech beast, its strength was that of an early-stage Enlightened Speech, while its speed soared to that of a mid-stage Core Formation—making it the most outstanding of the three. The two first-grade Foundation Pills had tempered its body, but even so, they could not rival the speed granted by a single second-grade Shadow Pill. Clearly, the higher the grade of the pill, the greater the benefits—this was the most effective way to achieve twice the result with half the effort.

All in all, Liuchou’s strength had already reached the peak of mid-stage, and if it were to encounter a slightly weaker shape-shifting beast, it would have the power to fight! A cold smile flickered in Liuchou’s eyes. It remembered all too well that the strongest in the entire macaque troop was the Core Formation King, Langyan; there were two elder macaques who barely entered Core Formation, while the rest were weak beasts lingering at the lower levels of Enlightened Speech and Gathering Essence. Now, slaughtering them would be a trivial task.

Another might strike immediately, but for Liuchou—who could feign madness and play the fool for months on end—such a move was worth careful consideration. The most profitable course now was to seek out the maimed and wounded beasts left by the Blood Moon, seize their cores and flesh, rather than simply venting its own violence. This, Liuchou knew well. Not to mention, many other beasts still roamed the outskirts of Plum Mountain—danger was ever-present, and caution could never be relaxed.

The arrogant perish, the cunning survive—this truth Liuchou had never forgotten!

Before long, Liuchou had listed several possible prey in its mind, withdrew from the Demon Refining Gourd, and crept cautiously towards the first beast’s lair...

Night deepened, the heavens were ink-dark, yet Plum Mountain still bristled with crisis and killing intent. Such was the norm here, the environment to which all monsters had long since adapted. Only the harshest winter or the Blood Moon could confine so many beasts to their lairs.

The dove demon, Whiteplume, remained in its nest built on the western cliff of the valley, smugly licking wounds left from the previous night. Though its belly rumbled, not for a moment did it consider venturing out to hunt.

Rotten Peach Valley had always been jointly occupied by Whiteplume and the jackal pack. Though the Jackal King had just entered Core Formation, their numbers always kept Whiteplume suppressed. Yet Whiteplume could fly, and its demon power was a notch higher; their repeated duels ended without resolution, and they were forced to live as reluctant neighbors, secretly wishing the other’s utter destruction.

During this Blood Moon, the entire jackal tribe had been driven mad, surging from the valley and never returning. They were surely all dead, and if any remained, they would be the old and weak, incapable of making trouble. Once its wounds healed a bit more, Whiteplume would easily slaughter the remnants and seize Rotten Peach Valley for itself.

For this, Whiteplume had not even taken advantage of the chaos to hunt injured demons and devour their cores; all its efforts were bent on healing, preparing for the inevitable struggle against other covetous monsters.

After a day of hiding, the wound on its right wing had visibly improved, but as its belly’s rumbling grew ever louder, Whiteplume’s pride turned to burning hunger and restlessness. Several times it was tempted to rampage through the jackals’ den, devouring all survivors, but the last thread of clarity in its mind restrained it:

“Not yet! That wretched den is narrow and dark, low and cramped—if three or five beasts still linger, I would only be delivering myself to them... Endure a little longer... Never forget the lessons of the past... Just a little longer...”

As it forced itself to endure, a faint whiff of blood wafted on the night breeze, instantly scratching at Whiteplume’s itch deep inside. Instinctively, it craned its neck from the nest and peered about, and at once spotted a small, limping figure struggling across the rocks at the edge of the Ravaged Stone Ridge.

This lame, slight figure was all too familiar—Whiteplume recognized at a glance the macaque hiding in the rocky crevices. The wretch was dragging a half-mangled, bloody corpse, stumbling along the ridge in full view—an ideal spot for hunting.

Whiteplume’s eyes narrowed, delight dancing in its gaze. Now the den’s darkness and narrowness were no longer a problem—the meal had come to its doorstep. How could it wait any longer? It left its nest in a flash, plunged into the air, and, riding the wind, silently swooped down over the macaque’s head.

The macaque seemed oblivious to the approaching danger, wholly focused on the corpse it dragged. When only a few dozen yards remained, Whiteplume beat its wings fiercely, drew them tight to its sides, and shot down like a deadly arrow, the air itself whistling at its speed!

Only then did the macaque sense the threat. Startled, it looked wildly about, then, in a sudden move, lifted the corpse and dove beneath it, burrowing headfirst into its bloody mass, which bulged grotesquely.

Whiteplume already pictured its beak piercing the macaque’s body—gathering all its strength, it aimed for the bulge and shot straight at it...

A sickening crunch echoed.

Whiteplume barely realized what had happened before searing pain lanced through its beak, straight to the bone, as if its entire body were roasting in fire. It thrashed desperately, wings beating, but a cold, sharp bone spike had already pierced up through its lower jaw into its brain, where it twisted savagely. Blood gushed, and with it, Whiteplume’s life poured swiftly away. Its wings fell limp.

With a thud, Whiteplume crashed to the ground, twitched twice, and its soul departed for the beyond!

Only then did Liuchou withdraw its extended claws, using both hands to turn over the corpse. The granite slab it had lifted overhead had shattered in the clash with Whiteplume’s beak, reduced to a pile of rubble.

Liuchou extracted the bone shard embedded in Whiteplume’s brain—the edge still sharp, so it did not bother to replace it. It stowed the corpse in the gourd, commanding the refining of a new Tempering Elixir. Then, tying another sturdy stone to the next corpse and jabbing the bone shard into a handy spot, it set the trap again, ready for another victim.

Who would expect a mere low-level beast to have such strength? Strength was one thing, but to wield weapons and set traps—what beast could resist falling prey to such cunning?

By dawn, Liuchou had ensnared four Core Formation beasts with this ruse, refining them all into Tempering Elixirs. There was no need to enter the gourd to give orders—just a thought sufficed, and when the pills were done, they would drop out, ready for use.

Besides the Core Formation beasts, it had hunted over ten Gathering Essence and Enlightened beasts, needing no tricks for these—just pounce and kill on sight. Among them were the last of the Rotten Peach Valley jackals, just as Whiteplume had predicted: only three pups and one mother jackal remained. The mother was so weak she could barely move, the pups hardly weaned. Liuchou sent them on their way without hesitation.

To kill or to spare—these useless mouths would only waste resources. Better to feast itself than leave them for other monsters. Since it was born a demon, let life and death take their course—such is the fate of monsters, a truth unchanged through the ages.

By sunrise, Liuchou felt fatigue setting in, so it returned to its den to review the fruits of its alchemy. This time, each demon core yielded a single pill—four in all, two of which were of new types.

One was a red first-grade Focus Pill, the other a purple first-grade Clear Sense Pill.

Tasting them, Liuchou quickly perceived the effect of the Focus Pill—its hearing, sight, and smell all heightened, its intuition sharper. Clearly, it was a pill to strengthen the five senses, what modern folk might call enhanced perception.

The Clear Sense Pill was more perplexing. Examining itself closely, Liuchou found no obvious changes. Judging by its name, it deduced the pill might enhance intelligence or mental acuity, but could not be sure.

The other two pills were familiar—one Foundation Pill, one Shadow Pill—further enhancing Liuchou’s strength and speed. Now, its physique was at the peak of Enlightened Speech, strength reached late Enlightened Speech, speed late Core Formation. With weapons and cunning, its overall power surpassed ordinary Core Formation beasts, and it could now threaten even shape-shifters.

As for facing a Core Formation beast head-on, it could fight as an equal.

After consuming the pills, Liuchou burrowed into its grassy nest and fell into a deep sleep. Its current plan was to take advantage of the chaos wrought by the Blood Moon, hunt as many demon cores as possible, transform itself, and then venture into the human world to seek clues to the Demon Refining Gourd’s mysteries.

It was impossible to tell how long it slept, but eventually, a twisting pain in its gut jolted Liuchou awake. It rushed to its usual spot for relief, barely squatting before a torrent burst forth, filling the den with such stench that Liuchou nearly fainted again.

Nearly a quarter hour passed before its belly was emptied—a pool of inky filth left behind, the fumes so potent Liuchou considered abandoning its den altogether.

In the end, it did not dare move. Instead, it fetched soil and gravel from the cave’s depths, burying the mess layer by layer to stifle the smell. Still, the stench lingered, and it knew it would be some time before the air cleared.

Unable to sleep, bored and restless, Liuchou suddenly recalled that there was an underground river deeper within the cave. Now that it was strong again, why not go for a bath? When weak and frail, it had neglected such things, but now there was no excuse.

As it thought of bathing, it realized its fur had grown matted lately. Touching itself, it found black, sticky residue clinging to the hair—not much, but enough to feel the grime. Only then did it notice that where there had once been mange and bald patches, soft new fur had grown in, and the scars had faded.

This too must be the effect of body tempering!

With this thought, Liuchou made its way to the underground stream, found a shallow spot, and washed itself thoroughly, scrubbing away the oily black grime until its coat felt fresh and smooth.

Once its fur was dry, Liuchou returned to the den, only to find the stink still lingering—though much diminished, it remained unbearable. Sleep was out of the question, so it steeled itself and set out once more to continue hunting for demon cores.

After last night’s slaughter, all surviving Core Formation beasts from the Blood Moon had been wiped out. The rest were either too weak or already shape-shifters. If it wanted to hunt, it would have to pick the tallest among the dwarfs, and think of new ways...

Flower Maiden—Demon

Heaven!

Half shines on gods, half on immortals.
The demon wind rises,
Sweeping through rivers and mountains.