Chapter 510: The Jujube-Red Horse Must Also Show Its Might

Moonlight traced the outlines of the mountains and meadows, casting a brightness that seemed unique to this era. Even the clouds in the sky were illuminated clear and crisp, as though etched in silver.

Down below, the tall grass swayed gently.

A calico cat was moving through it.

Since the wild grass around her was taller than she was, she treaded cautiously, ensuring that each step landed solidly—neither sinking into an unseen hole nor stepping on anything unexpected. Each time her front paw advanced, her hind paw naturally followed in its exact imprint, an effortless, precise motion.

But then, the Daoist’s voice sounded from behind her.

“Lady Calico, you should stay here. Keep watch for me.”

“Meow?”

“Yuezhou has few people but many demons. Tonight is the first night the migrants have arrived in Yuezhou, and I suspect more demons will come to cause trouble before dawn.”

“

You

suspect?”

“Yes, I suspect,” Song You replied softly, as if wary of disturbing something in the night. He lowered his gaze and locked eyes with the cat in the grass.

“Lady Calico, you are quick and sharp, your reflexes are lightning-fast, and you’ve grown stronger than before. If demons do come to the camp tonight to harm people or create chaos, this place is far too large. Only you will be able to react in time.”

“Only me!”

“It has to be you, Lady Calico!”

“Meow!”

The cat didn’t say another word—she simply sat down in an instant, her posture upright and proper. She turned her head left, then right, surveying her surroundings before lifting her paw to lick it nonchalantly—a clear sign that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Then, I leave it in your capable paws, Lady Calico.”

With those words, the Daoist continued forward.

The moon hung high, round and vast like a jade disk, illuminating the heavens.

A swallow bent its wings slightly, soaring like an arrow piercing the clouds. Under the moon's glow, its elegant silhouette shimmered against the night sky.

At the peak of its ascent, just as it lost upward momentum, the swallow shifted midair, tilting gracefully downward. With two light flaps, it steadied itself and began to glide, slipping silently into the vast shadowed forest below.

The meadow was littered with sleeping bodies, with soft snores rising in chorus.

Yet, some remained awake, too frightened to sleep. Their wide, restless eyes followed the Daoist as he passed through the camp, their gazes filled with wary caution.

Without breaking stride, Song You stepped into the darkened woods.

By now, moonlight barely reached through the dense canopy, leaving the forest shrouded in shadowy half-light. The branches overhead cast jagged silhouettes that resembled twisting demons with gaping maws, their forms reminiscent of ancient withered cypress trees from forgotten Daoist tales.

It was impossible to tell how long had passed.

Deep within the mountain forest, beneath the crooked, gnarled branches of an old, twisted tree...

A monkey sat on a tree branch, its back resting against the trunk. It sat steadily, eyes closed, already fast asleep.

A faint sound rustled from below.

“Shhfft!”

In an instant, the monkey's eyes snapped open. It looked downward.

Standing below the tree, a young Daoist leaned on a bamboo staff, gazing up at it. When the monkey looked at him, the Daoist actually cupped his hands in greeting.

“Greetings...”

The monkey was startled, instinctively preparing to flee—but something about that polite gesture made it hesitate.

A series of conflicting emotions flashed across its face—confusion, suspicion, curiosity.

“Y-You... Who are you?”

“My name is Song You, a Daoist from Yizhou.”

“You're not afraid of me?”

“As long as you’re not afraid of me.”

“...”

The monkey froze for a moment, then settled back down, leaning forward slightly as it peered down at him.

“Why did you come looking for me so late at night?”

“I simply wanted to ask—you said at dusk today that Great Yan is going to fall, and the Chen family is rising. Where did you hear this? And why did you choose to tell the migrating people?” Song You's tone remained polite and composed.

“You don’t believe me?”

“...” Song You shook his head but did not answer directly. Instead, he calmly repeated, “I only wish to know where you heard it and why you shared it.”

“I saw those people passing under the tree today. I heard they were going to settle here, so I kindly warned them. I didn’t want them to end up like the people from years ago—wiped out completely.”

“But instead of thanking me, they shouted at me to leave,” the monkey complained indignantly, its high-pitched voice brimming with resentment. “Infuriating!”

“Your heart is kind and pure,” Song You said gently.

“But kindness is rarely repaid with gratitude!” The monkey still fumed. “People like you just don’t know how to appreciate goodwill! Once you settle down here, you’ll drive out all the demons, just like always.”

“But where did you hear this from?”

“...?”

The monkey's wariness immediately heightened. It fixed its gaze straight on Song You, then stood up and climbed higher into the treetop before looking down again.

“Why are you asking this?”

“I’m curious.”

Song You tilted his head back, studying its expression.

Though it had a monkey’s face, there was a certain human-like quality to it. Compared to a person, however, its features and emotions were far more straightforward—completely unhidden.

The monkey perched itself on a branch and declared, “Everyone says so!”

“Everyone?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“That means the source of this information must be a powerful figure or a particularly fearsome demon—someone you're too afraid to name.”

“?”

The monkey froze for a moment, then frantically waved its hands.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! Stop asking me!”

“But if that figure had spread the message so widely that 'everyone says so'—then how do you know that he fears others knowing he was the one who spread the news? And how can you be sure that he doesn’t actually want people to know the news came from him?” Song You said, smiling slightly. “Perhaps his true intent is to let people know exactly where the message came from.”

“Impossible!”

“Why impossible?”

“If that were the case, he wouldn’t be hiding!”

“Thanks.” Song You gave a small smile and raised his hand in salute.

“Ahhh!” The monkey let out a sharp cry, finally realizing what had just happened. “You! You’re so cunning!”

“I’m just having a casual chat with you.”

“What do you want to find him for?”

“I’m curious.”

“Even if you knew, you wouldn’t be able to find him! There’s no demon or human in Yuezhou who can find him—not even the gods in the heavens!”

“Don't worry—I won’t say you told me.” Song You said nothing more and simply turned away, walking off without sparing the monkey another glance.

The monkey sat frozen on the branch, staring blankly after him.

Just then, a faint rustling sounded above its head. Startled, it looked up in a hurry, only to see a swallow taking flight from the very top of the tree.

The monkey was stunned once again.

It had just climbed higher, thinking that distancing itself would make it safer. Yet, it had never noticed that the swallow had been perched right above it the whole time.

A cold shiver ran through the monkey—it was genuinely unnerved.

Meanwhile, in the meadow below...

In the migrant camp, where people were resting for the night, a sudden, piercing cry of an infant shattered the silence of the night.

“Waaahhh—!”

The sound was sharp and loud, echoing through the still air.

It was impossible to ignore the cry of a baby, and since many had been sleeping restlessly, the wailing startled people awake. With so many stirring at once, the confusion and noise spread quickly, waking even more in the process.

“Whose child is crying?”

“It sounds so miserable!”

“It seems to be coming from over there.”

Everyone instinctively turned toward the direction of the sound.

And the moment they saw where it was coming from, a wave of unease spread through the crowd.

“There? But isn’t that... the edge of the forest? No one’s camped over there.”

“There aren’t even any fires lit! It’s pitch black!”

“Could it be a demon? They say demons love to imitate baby cries—they use it to lure people over and eat them!”

“Or maybe it’s some heartless bastard who carried their child here then abandoned their child because it was too much trouble to bring along!”

“Someone go ask the officials...”

Throughout history, demons and malevolent ghosts lurking near roadsides and riverbanks had frequently used this very trick—mimicking the cries of a baby to lure people in. If that didn’t work, their next tactic was to disguise themselves as beautiful young women. Tales of such demons existed in every prefecture.

And yet, these creatures never changed their methods.

Why?

Because it still worked.

If they took the form of a beautiful woman, there would always be those whose lust clouded their judgment. Even knowing it might be a demon, they would still throw caution aside, falling right into the trap—thinking they might die in the embrace of a beauty, only to be swallowed whole in an instant.

And if they cried like an infant, there would always be those with soft hearts—especially the elderly—who, despite suspecting it might be a demon’s trick, would still worry,

“What if it’s a real baby?”

Because humans were social creatures—born with an instinct to care for their young.

Tonight was no different.

Tonight, however, there were many people traveling together, and the officials had come prepared. The migrants had already been warned about Yuezhou’s scarcity of people and abundance of demons and had received instructions from the authorities on how to deal with them.

So instead of rushing in blindly, the group gathered a small team—several officials armed with long knives, a few strong young men, and an experienced government officer to lead them, accompanied by a handful of elderly men with wisdom from years of experience.

Slowly, they approached the source of the sound.

The moonlight bathed everything in a hazy glow. The wailing grew louder and clearer as they neared.

By the time they reached the thick underbrush where the sound originated, they found themselves standing before a dense thicket.

The grass and shrubs were packed tightly together, their shadows pitch-black beneath the night sky. Moonlight couldn’t penetrate the overgrowth at all.

If someone had truly abandoned a child here, this would have been the perfect place to discard them.

The group crouched low, their eyes sharp with caution as they searched the darkness. Then, suddenly, one of the elderly men furrowed his brows and widened his eyes.

“Something’s wrong!”

The crying had now grown so shrill that it pierced through their eardrums like needles.

Though it sounded eerily similar to an infant’s wail, it was too sharp, too unnatural—no human baby could make such a sound.

“Be careful!”

The moment the old man spoke, it was as if he had broken a spell. The wailing stopped instantly, and silence fell over the brush.

The entire forest felt unnaturally still. The group instinctively stepped back in alarm.

Then, all of a sudden, the thicket began to shake violently. The leaves rustled, the bushes trembled, and the noise grew more intense.

And then, with a loud crash, a monstrous creature leaped out of the underbrush.

It resembled a wild boar, but its body was covered in thick, bristling steel-like fur.

It had long, jagged tusks—but unlike a normal boar, its tail was like a snake, coiling and writhing wildly behind it.

At the tip of the snake-like tail, there was a gaping mouth. A boar-bodied, serpent-tailed monster—truly a terrifying sight.

“Waaah...!”

The beast opened its mouth, and from it came the exact cry of an infant. Its eyes gleamed hungrily, locked onto its prey.

“Don’t panic! The books say that as long as you don’t fear the demon, it can be killed! If you run, it will hunt you down one by one! Everyone—fight together!”

“Waaah...!”

The demon lunged forward with a sudden burst of speed.

Several government officers swiftly drew their blades—some feigning bravery despite their fear, while others mustered their courage. The rest of the able-bodied men wielded wooden clubs, flanking them to provide support. A flurry of blades all slashed toward the pig demon.

Although the pig’s hide was as tough as armor, it was still no match for sharp metal. With each slash, wounds opened up, fresh blood oozing out, causing the demon to throw its head back and let out a deafening howl of pain.

However, the demon’s massive size gave it an overwhelming advantage. The group had come in a hurry and brought too few people—let alone fighting a demon, even taking down a wild boar under these conditions would have been difficult. The demon charged forward, and with a single collision, two men were sent flying, landing heavily on the ground, wailing in agony.

The pain only made the demon fiercer.

It paused, lowering its head to glare at the group before stepping back a couple of paces. Then, baring its tusks, it charged again at the ones still standing in front of it.

At that very moment, a thunderous sound echoed through the air.

The rhythmic pounding of hooves against the earth grew closer, as urgent as a war drum.

Just as the demon was about to crash into them, the panicked officers suddenly saw—under the moonlight—a horse galloping through the grass like a gust of wind. It was so fast it seemed like a shadow in the night, and with a sudden turn, it rammed straight into the demon.

“

Boom

!”

With a loud crash, the snake-tailed pig demon was sent flying.

At the same time, the distant grass rustled violently, swaying as something moved through it at high speed. A calico cat dashed forth like the wind, its posture powerful and elegant, resembling a predator of the plains. Pushing past the wild grass, it swiftly arrived at the scene.