My life was saved by my master, so no matter how dangerous it is, I have to do it for him. But in fact, I am very scared; I am just an ordinary person, and I fear death. It is only at this moment that I realize being a hero is not easy. If I had a choice, I would rather never be a hero and just be an ordinary person.
My master came running with a small cup of paste. I understand his intentions; if anything happens to me, he can immediately come to my aid.
Afraid that overthinking would make me lose my courage to act, I quickly scooped up some paste and spread it on the back of a talisman, then slapped it onto the large camphor tree.
I didn't feel any unusual aura, and the large camphor tree didn't move at all. My master and I looked at each other in surprise; had this demonic tree completely given up resisting? It seemed very unreasonable! The people watching from a distance visibly relaxed, and those with a bit of common sense knew that once the talismans were used to subdue it, the evil was like an ox with a ring through its nose, unable to cause trouble.
As I applied paste and pasted the talismans, my movements were swift, and in less than two minutes, I had affixed over a dozen talismans to the large camphor tree, covering all directions, smoother than anyone had anticipated.
My master's face showed some confusion, but he still turned around and shouted loudly, "Come and cut down the tree, you can start now!"
The villagers looked at each other, and not only did no one step forward, but they were actually trying hard to push back. Most of the people present had witnessed the events of the evening before with their own eyes. Fan Qiang had simply urinated, but he was tormented to the point of near death, his screams echoing through half the village, and he was still unconscious. Who wouldn't be afraid?
My master said, "The tree spirit has been subdued by my talisman magic and cannot harm anyone. Everyone, please come forward and cut it down with confidence!"
Everyone is still timid and afraid to move forward. I have an impulse to curse. TMD, I am at the forefront of the most dangerous things. Now that I have suppressed them, are you still afraid of birds?
"Let me do it!" A person pushed their way out of the crowd and snatched an axe from someone next to them. Although this person had few wrinkles on their face, their hair was already mostly white. He was thin and scholarly, and wore a pair of glasses. This was Fan Qiang's father, the doctor, Old Fan.
The crowd stirred in anticipation. It was only right that he was the first to take action, but if something happened to him as well, it would be both pitiful and regrettable.
Old Fan was a decent man. Although he was married to Sheng Yu Po, he did not believe in ghosts and gods, never participated in the movement to create deities, and was honest and trustworthy in his medical practice. Most of the villagers respected him. Now, with his son on the brink of death and his wife close to madness, this refined intellectual had also become angry, daring to challenge all evil spirits and monsters.
Old Fan strode confidently up to the large camphor tree and, without hesitation, struck a fierce blow.
"Bang!"
The sound was not like an axe striking wood, but more like hitting a hard stone slab. At the same time, the axe bounced up, and Old Fan, who had exerted too much force, spun halfway around before stopping due to the recoil of the axe.
There was only a shallow indentation on the large camphor tree, not even breaking the bark. My master and I were stunned; even a stone-carved tree would have a gap by now. Could the large camphor tree be harder than stone? Old Fan was also taken aback for a moment before raising the axe and chopping down with even greater force.
"Bang!"
The axe flew out of his hand, and Old Fan stumbled backward and fell, but immediately jumped up, exclaiming in shock, "How is this possible?"
Several robust middle-aged men, seeing that the frail doctor, Old Fan, had the courage to take action, were also filled with bravery and rushed forward, swinging their knives and axes. One of them even laughed, "Being a doctor, you don't even have the strength to catch a chicken."
There was a clatter of noises, and then everyone was stunned. No one could break the bark; it was clearly not a matter of strength.
More people rushed over, and someone shouted, "If you can't chop it down, dig it up and fell it!"
Both my master and I shook our heads. The large camphor tree might be restricted during the day and unable to unleash its power, but it had ways to protect itself. If it couldn't be chopped down, it certainly couldn't be dug up. As the saying goes, "As tall as the tree is, so deep are its roots." Although this is an exaggeration, for such a large tree, one can imagine how deep and extensive its roots are. With less than a day left, it might not be possible to dig it up.
The villagers' courage burst forth, and their fear turned into strength. Shovels and pickaxes were wielded wildly, and those who didn't have tools helped to move stones and earth. The entire area under the large tree became bustling with activity. Such a spectacular scene of labor hadn't been seen since the implementation of household contract responsibility in the 1980s.
Not long after they started digging, someone suddenly hit a hole, and a foul odor emanated from it, making people feel nauseous. After the stench subsided a bit, they enlarged the hole, revealing a deep trench filled with a large amount of black, decayed matter. It was difficult to identify what it was, but there were many bristles that could be distinguished—it was pig hair!
I suddenly remembered that I had seen the butcher's wife flush the blood and filthy substances from slaughtering pigs into the drainage ditch. The ditch flowed in this direction, only about twenty meters away. These things must have flowed here from the drainage ditch.
My master also seemed to have an epiphany: "So that's how it is, so that's how it is! The blood and dirty water from slaughtering pigs flow here every day. The large camphor tree already had spiritual qualities and has absorbed a large amount of polluted blood and filthy air, causing its nature to gradually become lost, turning bloodthirsty and irritable. Therefore, the tree that was supposed to protect the village has become a tree that harms people!"
The butcher, who was also present, trembled all over in fear when he heard this, while others glared at him furiously. After all, he was the root cause of all this. How could he possibly bear the consequences?
The butcher fell to his knees with a "plop" and said, "I, I didn't mean to, I really didn't know it would be like this."
My master said, "Indeed, it was an unintentional mistake on your part. But eight years ago, when you built your house, I advised you not to build it here. You didn't believe me and even scolded me, which led to today's disaster!"
The butcher dared not speak and kept kowtowing to my master. Of course, my master wouldn't hold it against him and helped him up, saying, "Kowtowing is useless, hurry up and help dig."
Suddenly, someone screamed, "The ground seems to be rising?"
I looked down and indeed, the shallow pits that had been dug were now almost level with the ground, and it was unclear when they had risen. Everyone was stunned; if the ground could rise automatically and the soil fill in by itself, how could the tree be dug up?
One of the villagers asked, "Mr. Zhou, can black dog blood break the evil?"
My master hurriedly replied, "Absolutely not, this tree became a demon tree by absorbing blood and filth. It loves blood the most. Black dog blood won't break it, but will instead double its demonic power!"
The crowd asked in confusion, "Then what should we do?"
My master, holding a peach wood sword, walked up to the large camphor tree and started to gesture. He struck down with the sword again, but still, there was no damage. My master waved his hand and said, "Everyone, step back and wait for me to break the demonic spell before cutting down the tree."
The villagers quickly retreated, and my master continued to wave for them to back up further, only stopping when they were several dozen meters away. I thought my master would perform some earth-shattering magic, but instead, he removed all the talismans from the large camphor tree and, with his claw-like hands, pulled me to the table. In a mysterious tone, he said, "Come, redraw all these talismans."
I thought I had misheard him and stared at my master in astonishment. A hint of embarrassment appeared on my master's face as he whispered in my ear, "It's not that these talismans are useless, but my spiritual power is gone, and the talismans have no effect. Now you need to communicate with the one inside you and use its spiritual power to draw the talismans."
I was even more surprised and hurriedly said, "I can't communicate with it, and I've never officially drawn a talisman before, not even a simple one for stopping bleeding. How can I draw these high难度 talismans?"
My master's face hardened as he said, "Do you want to see your master humiliated? Do you want to watch as the whole village waits to die? If we don't eliminate it before dark, everyone will die! Now, all hope lies with you. Find a way to communicate with the demon fox, then concentrate all your energy on drawing the talismans. I will teach you the secret language and hand gestures for each talisman. This is learning and applying in real-time, and practice will bring true knowledge."
I was at a loss for words, amused and yet crying inside. How could I possibly draw advanced talismans on the spot, as if I were cooking a meal? This was like forcing a duck to climb a shelf.
Seeing my confusion, my master added, "Draw boldly, as if you were copying a calligraphy model. You've won first prize in calligraphy; it shouldn't be difficult to copy. It's okay if the talisman's appearance is slightly off, 'A talisman has no fixed form, it is powered by the spirit.' As long as you can borrow its spiritual energy and have enough spiritual energy and concentration during the sealing process, the talisman will be effective."
With hundreds of people watching and waiting, there was no way for me to escape. I could only say with a bitter face, "But I can't communicate with it at all!"
"Quiet your mind, concentrate all your spirit and thoughts, visualize its appearance, and keep its name in mind. When you feel good about yourself, you can start drawing."
It sounded easy enough, but I was really frustrated with my master's last-minute changes and his method of forcing me into this situation. So, I replied with a hint of annoyance, "I haven't seen its appearance and I don't know its name!"
"Ahhh," my master was momentarily taken aback, but quickly regained his composure with a cunning smile that was typical of an old charlatan. "This is a great virtue, to slay a thousand-year-old tree demon and save over four hundred people in the village. Normally, it would take ten years of doing good deeds to accumulate such virtue. Well, well, I'm sure you'll find a way. Ever since you returned, I've felt that you are the key to resolving this great disaster."
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. If I could do it, I wouldn't need his coercion and temptation. My family and I were in danger, so how could I not try my best?
I closed my eyes and began to concentrate on the demon fox sealed within my body. However, my mind was far from calm. My master's expectations, the safety of my mother and other relatives, the terrifying power of the tree demon, the high-level talismans I had never drawn before, and the hundreds of people watching me… the pressure was immense!
Indeed, I had no recollection of the demon fox's appearance, nor did I know its name, likes, or dislikes. We had never engaged in any emotional exchange. In fact, I had always harbored fear towards it. It was only after my master assured me that it would not harm me that I felt at ease. Thus, up to this point, I had no favorable feelings towards it; it remained strange and distant to me.
As time ticked by, I felt no presence of the demon fox, only increasing tension. The more anxious I became, the harder it was to concentrate. Various thoughts raced through my mind, and my heartbeat and breathing accelerated. It was now around 8 a.m., with a cloudy sky that didn't bring much heat, yet sweat began to form on my forehead.