Chapter 1

As the first hints of dawn crept across the horizon, the piercing crow of a rooster shattered the tranquil silence of morning.

The main road through the village was a broad, flat dirt path, stretching the length of Guiyi Village and weaving together every household within its bounds.

In the fields beside the road, a tall, slender youth worked in a white undershirt, its hem fluttering gently in the cool early breeze. He wiped the sweat from his brow, revealing a glimpse of his delicate waist and skin so fair it seemed to glow. After mopping his brow, he gripped his hoe and returned to his labor with focused intensity. His movements were practiced and powerful, a pleasure to watch.

The village chief, Zhao Shan, approached with a basket hanging from his arm, his back stooped as he walked toward the boy in the fields. Standing atop the ridge, he called out, “Lingze, come eat your breakfast.”

The youth glanced up at the elder and replied hurriedly, “Just a bit more—I’ll come as soon as I finish turning this patch.”

He quickened his pace, working with renewed vigor. Before long, he had turned the last strip of earth and strode over to the chief, resting his hoe on the ridge.

Zhao Shan handed him a steamed bun from the basket, along with a portion of stir-fried pork.

“I went to your house looking for you,” Zhao Shan said, “Your parents told me you weren’t there. I guessed you’d be out in the fields again. Even Zhang Dahead isn’t as industrious as you.”

Zhang Dahead was the second most hardworking farmer in Guiyi Village, after the youth. Their diligence made the rest of the villagers seem lazy by comparison, though truthfully, everyone farmed as expected; there was no shirking of duties.

The youth took a bite of the pristine bun and grinned. “It’s different for me—I love working the land.”

It was as if the urge to till the soil was etched into his very blood; whenever he saw a field, he couldn’t resist the itch to plant something.

Guiyi Village hadn’t always been as it was now: fields lining every roadside. It was the youth who, as he grew, gradually expanded and cultivated them.

Not only that, he had also cleared a plot on the mountain behind the village, fencing it off to grow peppers.

Fully two-thirds of the village’s land belonged to the youth. With so much to tend, it was no wonder his days revolved around his fields.

“By the way, Chief, what did you need me for?”

“I wanted to remind you—today is the fifteenth.”

“Don’t worry, I remember!”

“That’s good, thank you for your help.”

“Ah, it’s no trouble at all!” The youth smiled, revealing teeth as white as pearls set in his lips. His eyes sparkled with bright, star-like radiance.

Besides the youth, Guiyi Village was populated by the elderly and infirm, all with bodies weakened in one way or another.

The fifteenth of each month was market day, when the youth would take the village’s specialties to trade for necessities—salt, cloth, pots, pans, and other household items.

At eight in the morning, the youth arrived at the village chief’s door and packed the villagers’ goods for barter into a woven sack, stuffing it full. There was another sack filled with wild game he’d hunted in the mountains the day before.

He slung the two heavy sacks onto a shoulder pole and set off at a brisk pace, quickly disappearing into the distance, his voice trailing behind him:

“I’m off!”

“Be careful on the road!” Zhao Shan called after him.

“Got it!” came the reply.

About a kilometer outside the village, thick white fog churned like boiling water, dense and rolling.

The youth, burdened with his shoulder pole, strode into the mist without hesitation, his figure vanishing instantly.

Yet in his eyes, there was no fog at all; it was just an ordinary path, bordered by lush, thriving vegetation, even the vines as thick as a bowl.

After a few steps, a massive figure appeared at the crossroads ahead.

It was a black bear, standing over four meters tall—a moving mountain, terrifying to behold. Its sharp fangs protruded from its lips, foul saliva dripping to the ground. Its skin was covered in coarse, dense black fur, each strand as hard as steel. Its eyes glowed red with ferocity, lacking eyelids so the bloodshot orbs were exposed, its breathing a thunderous rumble.

“Coalball!” the youth called out in delight.

He had met the black bear three months ago, on this very road, and had named it Coalball.

Coalball was an enthusiastic bear; at their first meeting, it had rushed toward the youth, who promptly embraced it with equal vigor. The bear was so excited it bounded about uncontrollably.

The youth remembered hearing Uncle Iron Egg from the neighboring village talk about a dog he’d raised, which had similar habits—always eager to pounce on people, seemingly desperate to escape one’s grasp, but in truth simply overwhelmed with excitement, circling right back after being released.

Trusting this story, the youth held fast to the bear.

From afar, it appeared the youth had been swallowed by the massive beast, but in reality, Coalball’s claws dug deep trenches in the ground as it struggled with all its might to escape, to no avail.

What a monster!

Coalball was terrified, thinking it had found prey, only to realize it had encountered a hidden predator. Its claws couldn’t scratch the youth’s skin; its jaws, capable of crushing steel, left not even a mark. Its strength was laughable in comparison.

It was agony—it could hardly breathe.

The youth’s embrace was too tight; the bear thought it heard its bones crack, organs pierced by splintered ribs. Was it to be death by hugging? Hugging had always been its specialty; how could things turn out this way...

Everything faded to black, and in its daze, the bear thought it glimpsed its great-grandmother.

After thoroughly ruffling Coalball’s glossy fur, the youth remembered his main task was to reach the market, and reluctantly let go.

“I have things to do—I’ll come play next time!”

Coalball collapsed like a rag doll, tears of humiliation leaking from its eyes.

Fortunately, its recovery was swift; after half an hour, it was healed. Still, the ordeal left such a painful memory that for a long time, Coalball dared not approach that spot.

Why was it back now? Lured by the pungent scent of humans.

Demons loved eating humans, who were not only tasty but nourishing. Coalball wrestled with its conscience for ages, but desire won out, and it crept forward, trembling.

Three days passed. Guarding this road, Coalball had devoured three people, one per day, and with no sign of the monster, its courage grew. It no longer hid at the sight of people, waiting to confirm they weren’t the monster before attacking. Now it brazenly stood in the middle of the road, waiting for its next meal.

“Coalball!”

“?!”

The familiar voice rang in Coalball’s ears. Its vision was poor—only half a meter clear—but the youth was three meters away, a blurry figure in its sight.

Recognizing the voice as the same doom-bringer from three months ago, its eager heart instantly died. Coalball let out a miserable cry, turned, and fled on all fours with a speed that suggested it wished for more legs to run even faster.