Chapter 25: Complicit with the Tiger, the Mountain God in Peril

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Deep in the mountains, under the shroud of night, rain poured down in torrents. Within a ruined temple, a beauty appeared.

Everything seemed tinged with strangeness.

“Oh, how wonderful—so many of you are here. Gentlemen, my younger brother got lost in the mountains earlier today. My father and I came searching for him, but were caught by this heavy rain. Might I warm myself by your fire for a while, just to escape the downpour? Once the rain stops tomorrow, I shall leave.”

Her voice was soft and alluring, stirring the hearts of the traveling merchants. As men who spent their days on the road, seldom had they encountered such an enchanting woman.

Besides, she was just a lone girl—how much trouble could she be? There were nine of them, after all.

One of them spoke at once, “A meeting by chance is fate. Come warm yourself by the fire, miss, lest the rain harm your health.”

The woman beamed with delight and walked over with light steps. Only Cao Kong noticed that the ground she stepped on showed no trace of change. She had just come through the driving rain, yet her feet left not a single wet mark.

Cao Kong’s eyes narrowed slightly. There was something off about this woman.

The fire crackled, sending sparks into the air. The woman extended her hands toward the flames, the light illuminating her face and setting the merchants’ hearts aflutter.

The atmosphere in the ruined temple grew subtly charged. Two of the younger merchants, brimming with youthful energy, stole glances at the woman whenever they thought she wouldn’t notice.

But she did. Each time, she lowered her head in bashful shyness, making the young men swallow nervously.

“Ahem, ahem.”

Wang Hong, the burly, bearded leader of the merchants, coughed twice, snapping the two younger men back to their senses. He was clearly the group’s chief, a man of some authority.

Wang Hong had traveled these roads for years, and the woman’s presence filled him with an inexplicable sense of unease. After a moment, he asked, his voice deep, “Miss, do you live nearby? How did your brother get lost?”

The woman responded with all the purity of a delicate blossom, saying her surname was Tang, her home lay ten miles north of the mountain, and her family was well-off.

Earlier that day, she explained, villagers had seen her brother go into the mountains to play but he hadn’t returned, so she and her father set out to search for him.

Her words were almost tearful, her helplessness so convincing that the merchants could not help but believe her.

The two young men in particular were eager to go to her side and offer comfort.

Beside him, Golden Leopard whispered to Cao Kong, “Brother, doesn’t she seem a bit fake to you? The merchants look like decent folk—should we warn them?”

Cao Kong replied, “No rush. Let’s watch a while longer.”

Before long, a sound approached from outside the temple, growing louder through the rain.

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It was a broken, intermittent sobbing.

“Father, brother, where are you? Gou’er is so scared… please come quick! Gou’er will never sneak into the mountains again.”

The woman in the temple leaped to her feet, exclaiming excitedly, “That’s my brother! Gentlemen, can you help me look for him? If you find him, my father will surely reward you.”

The merchants hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. The rain was harsh, and searching outside at night was risky.

Just then, an older man’s voice sounded, weary yet anxious.

“Son, my son, wait for me—your father is coming for you!”

A cry of pain followed, and the man’s wailing continued, heartbroken, “How unlucky am I, struck by a stone… Son, don’t be afraid, your father is coming, slowly.”

The woman began to sob, her tears falling like rain, and the cries of child and elder outside only made the scene more heartrending.

The two young merchants volunteered to help search. Wang Hong, seeing their resolve, softened and gave instructions: “It’s night, and the rain is heavy. It’s not safe out there. We have nine men, plus Miss Tang—let’s split into two groups of five to search for the old man and the child.”

Everyone agreed, preparing to leave the shelter and search for the missing pair. Only Cao Kong and Golden Leopard remained by the fire.

The woman glanced at them with tear-filled eyes. “Gentlemen, will you help too? Every extra hand means another chance.”

Cao Kong shook his head, his lips curled in a faint, enigmatic smile. The woman felt a sudden chill of unease.

The two young men muttered, “You’re both so cold-hearted. When we arrived, you shared your fire and hot water, but now you just sit there while others are in need.” Perhaps their own sense of justice was pricked by the brothers’ lack of action.

“Enough! Forgive him, he’s young and speaks without thinking,” Wang Hong rebuked the youth, then apologized to the brothers. Years of experience had taught him: when traveling, if not friends, at least make no enemies, for who knows what someone might do later.

With that, he and the others donned rain cloaks and hats, and left the ruined temple.

The woman lingered at the rear, glancing at the nine men ahead, her face half-hidden by her sleeve. Beneath the cloth, a twisted, sinister smile crept over her lips.

She turned back to the temple, her eyes dark and venomous as she gazed at the brothers by the fire.

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“You won’t escape, either. All of you will become offerings to the king’s thirst.”

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Within a cavern deep in the mountain, a chilling gloom pervaded. The cave was heaped with bones forming small mounds, the stench of blood thick in the air. Human skins and hair were strewn across the floor in a horrifying tangle.

Even the bravest of men would be paralyzed with terror at the sight, rendered speechless.

In the cavern’s deepest recess, blood-red light intertwined with the pale glow of incense offerings, as though locked in combat.

Approaching, one saw a massive, striped tiger—large as a hill—facing off against a clay effigy.

“Don’t resist any longer. Surrender and let me refine you into my specter. Perhaps I’ll even grant you a measure of freedom in the future,” the monstrous tiger growled.

The clay figure’s eyes burned with rage. “Specter? You make it sound pleasant. If you refine me, I’ll know neither life nor death ever again!”

“Hmph. Futile resistance. Your temple is in ruins, I’ve trapped you here. As your strength wanes and mine grows, how long can you possibly last? Sooner or later, I’ll make you mine and become the mountain god of this place. All the treasures and sacred stones of the mountain will be mine!”

The clay effigy fell silent, mustering what little power remained to resist the demon tiger.

But it knew defeat was inevitable.

He raged inwardly. Once, he had been a mountain spirit, who in life performed many good deeds. After death, his soul lingered, and the people built a shrine, housing him in a clay statue gilded with gold.

He had diligently protected travelers, cultivated himself, hoping that with enough incense and worship he might one day truly become the mountain’s deity.

But the demon tiger came, drawn by rumors of a wondrous treasure hidden in the mountain. It trapped him, shattered his temple so he could no longer receive incense, drained his power, and tried to refine him daily with wicked arts.

The demon tiger commanded specters as minions, sending them to prey on travelers and replenish its strength with their blood. With each passing day, the clay spirit’s chances dwindled.

“Is there no one who can save me?” the mountain god cried in his heart.

A flash of grief and ruthless resolve crossed his eyes. If the moment of doom truly arrived, he would rather destroy the sacred stone within the mountain than let the demon tiger claim it.