Chapter 1: Great Wu Heavenly Dynasty

In the 9th year of the Martial Emperor, the great rivers ran dry, wells and springs withered, the land cracked, and there was no green grass in the wilderness.

In the 10th year of the Martial Emperor, not a single drop of rain fell; the crops withered, the land for a thousand miles was like a furnace, yellow winds blew constantly, and flying sand and moving stones blotted out the sky and covered the sun.

In the 11th year of the Martial Emperor, a great famine struck; people ate one another, the starving lay along the roads, and white bones filled the wilderness.

An Immortal Master from the Directorate of Celestials ascended the altar to perform rites and Summon Wind and Rain, but instead, Thunder descended from Heaven; the Immortal Master was severely wounded, spat blood, and collapsed to the ground. Upon waking, he said to His Majesty: "This is Heaven's punishment; the will of Heaven is hard to defy."

The Son of Heaven issued an edict of self-reproach and led the civil and military officials to kneel and pray to the vast Heaven for rain; they knelt for three days and three nights, but unfortunately, not a single drop of rain fell.

This year, the northern Grass Barbarian army pressed upon the borders, southern tribes rebelled, western barbarians invaded, the eastern Demon Race stirred up trouble, and refugees rose up everywhere in the central regions.

With natural and man-made disasters descending simultaneously, the Great Wu Heavenly Dynasty, which had lasted for over one thousand three hundred years, was tottering, presenting a scene of the end of the world.

In Dongzhou, Dongchuan Prefecture, Luolong County, at the foot of Jiguan Mountain, there was a small mountain village named Qinghe Village. This place was originally a land of beautiful mountains and clear waters with abundant produce, but unfortunately, after three years of great disaster, the land had become barren and the crops had failed completely.

In years of famine, the villagers could usually go up the mountain to hunt or pick wild fruits to sustain their livelihoods, but a Tiger Demon with wings had suddenly appeared on Jiguan Mountain. It could wield demonic arts and harm lives; those who entered the mountain were like meat buns thrown at a dog—they went in but never returned.

That Tiger Demon was bloodthirsty and loved to eat people. If the villagers did not go up the mountain, it would enter the village every few days to eat people, and only after it was full and satisfied would it ride the demonic wind back to the mountain.

The able-bodied men in the village had once mustered the courage to fight the Tiger Demon, but the Tiger Demon was not only immensely strong and capable of demonic arts—raising its hand to make sand fly and stones move, blotting out the sky and sun—it could also spit flames from its mouth. Ordinary villagers were simply no match for it.

What was even more terrifying was that the Tiger Demon had commanded the Wild Beasts of Jiguan Mountain and opened their intelligence; all the Wild Beasts obeyed the Tiger Demon's orders. The Tiger Demon was too lazy to go down the mountain, so it let the Wild Beasts come in packs to capture humans and bring them to the mountain for it to enjoy.

The Tiger Demon ate people, and the Wild Beasts also ate people; the villagers of Qinghe Village lived in dire misery, suffering beyond words.

Qinghe Village was a large village that originally had over one thousand people, but now only a little over one hundred remained; less than one in ten survived.

The villagers had thought of fleeing, but for some unknown reason, a layer of mist had begun to permeate the area around the village. Even if the villagers walked inside it for three days and three nights, they would still be circling near the village and could not get out at all. Helpless, the villagers could only stay in the village and wait for death.

At the east end of the village, there were two dilapidated thatched huts. A scrawny youth, clutching his round, bloated belly, said, "Dad, my stomach hurts."

The middle-aged man wearing tattered clothes frowned and said, "Meng Yifan, go Ra, once you've Ra-ed, your stomach won't hurt anymore."

"It's blocked, I can't Ra it out." The youth 'Meng Yifan' felt as if a large rock were inside his belly; the pain was unbearable, and he could barely walk.

"Use your hand to dig it out." The middle-aged man Meng Dayong looked at his son and said, "Do you need your father to help you?"

"No need, I'll do it myself." Meng Yifan hurriedly shook his head. The last time his old man helped him, he couldn't control his strength and dug until his bottom was a bloody mess, bleeding non-stop; that feeling was truly agonizing.

Meng Yifan went to Ra. Meng Dayong held his Mountain Opening Blade and stood guard vigilantly at the entrance of the latrine. The village had been out of food for a month; many people could not survive and began to trade children to eat. Some had come to find Meng Dayong, but he had driven them away with his Mountain Opening Blade. He would rather starve to death himself than hand his son over as food.

The village was not safe at all now; not only were there demons outside, but the villagers, driven by extreme hunger, were even more terrifying than the demons.

One after another, small children had gone missing, all eaten by that bunch of beasts.

Ten minutes later, with the help of his fingers, Meng Yifan finally Ra-ed. It was unavoidable that his bottom started bleeding again, but compared to the time Meng Dayong helped him, the wound was much smaller. Although it hurt a little, it did not affect his movement.

After Meng Yifan finished Ra-ing, the father and son returned home, closed the doors and windows tightly, and lay on the bed to conserve their strength. When noon arrived, Meng Dayong got up, took a handful of White Powder from a bag on the table, handed it to Meng Yifan, and said, "Eat."

Meng Yifan knew this was Guanyin soil; eating it would cause severe stomach pain and he wouldn't be able to Ra it out. He didn't want to eat it, but if he didn't, he would be starved to death. In order to survive, he could only helplessly take the White Powder and swallow it bit by bit.

The tree bark and grass roots around the village had long been eaten up. Those villagers who were unwilling to eat people survived by eating Guanyin soil. Over twenty people in the village had already been bloated to death because they ate too much Guanyin soil and drank a large amount of water.

However, compared to starving to death, everyone preferred to be bloated to death; at least that way they wouldn't be a starving ghost.

Meng Yifan ate a handful of Guanyin soil, but his belly still felt very hungry. The hunger overcame his reason, and the hard-to-swallow Guanyin soil didn't seem so hard to eat anymore. He wanted to keep eating, but Meng Dayong shook his head and said, "Don't eat any more. If you eat more, you'll be bloated to death too."

"Dad, I'm still hungry, let me eat one more mouthful." Meng Yifan pleaded.

Meng Dayong put the Guanyin soil away and said, "You are the only seedling left in our Meng family. I promised your grandparents and mother that no matter what, I must let you live and carry on the Meng family's incense."

When the famine struck, the Meng family was a household of five; his grandparents and Meng's mother were all there. But to let Meng Yifan live, his grandparents fasted one after another, putting the last of the food into Meng Yifan's mouth; the old couple was starved to death.

Next was Meng's mother, who followed the same path as the grandparents, leaving the food for Meng Dayong and Meng Yifan, and she starved to death. It was precisely because of this that the Meng father and son were able to survive until now.

Thinking of his grandparents and mother, Meng Yifan couldn't help but cry. Although he was only ten years old, the suffering had made him grow up quickly, and he already knew that those relatives had all died for him.

Meng Dayong wiped away his son's tears and said, "Child, don't cry, conserve your strength. We don't know how many more days we can hold on. Sigh! This goddamn world."

"I don't know when the County Magistrate will be able to send troops to subdue this demon," Meng Dayong muttered.

The constables in Luolong County were all ranked Martial Artists; the standard weapons they used were extremely sharp, and they were skilled in fighting in formations, capable of fighting against stronger opponents.

Zhang Butou was powerful, and the weapon he used was a Dharma Artifact refined by an Immortal Master of the Directorate of Celestials, which could restrain demons, monsters, and ghosts.

The County Magistrate held the Luolong County Great Seal and could mobilize the Dynasty Luck of a county, unleashing terrifying power that could shake the earth and move mountains. It was precisely because of the County Magistrate and the constables led by Zhang Butou that Luolong County could become a forbidden zone for demons.

Meng Dayong and many kind-hearted villagers pinned their hope of survival on the County Magistrate and Zhang Butou.

"The thick fog has sealed the village for a month already. By logic, the County Magistrate should have discovered the abnormality by now. Why hasn't he sent anyone to catch the demon?" Meng Dayong was puzzled.