Chapter 3: The Only Good Demon Is a Dead One
Sulfur-scented spring water seeped from the cracks in the mountain rock, its warmth as gentle and pliant as a lover’s caress upon the skin—impossible to resist. If not for the row of severed heads in the distance, this place would be nothing short of a paradise.
After bathing in the hot spring, the girl had washed away all trace of dust and fatigue. Her fair, delicate skin glistened smoother than a peeled egg, and the faint flush upon her unadorned cheeks lent her a charm that was at once pure and alluring, like a fallen immortal gracing the mortal world. Even Old Yang, leading the way, found herself unable to avert her eyes. But what flickered in her gaze was not admiration nor envy, but a simmering resentment.
Let’s see how long you can maintain that calm in front of the Hound.
Chaining Bai Xian to a tree beside an iron cauldron, the woman forced a sycophantic smile and cautiously knocked on the wooden door set in the nearby cave.
Creak.
The battered door slowly opened.
“All prepared?” A coarse voice echoed from the darkness, accompanied by the stench of rotting flesh.
The cramped cavern was awash in nauseating red and a reek that clung to the air. The woman stiffened, as if an invisible hand gripped her throat. “Master Hound, all is ready,” she croaked.
“Begone.”
“Yes, sir.”
Relieved, Old Yang fled into the cell where the meat slaves were held. The fiends were capricious; even collaborators such as herself could lose their lives for a moment’s carelessness. If she had any choice, she would never linger before the Hound for long.
With the woman gone, a figure as massive as a small mountain emerged from the gloom. Its shape was human, but every inch of its body was covered in thick, black-gray fur. Its muscles bulged like hewn stone, long arms dragging, claws glinting coldly, its back hunched, and atop its neck rested the head of a dog.
The beast yawned as if just rousing from slumber, revealing two rows of bloody fangs.
Though she had steeled herself for this moment, Bai Xian’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the Hound.
Finishing its yawn, the creature’s eyes lit with the unmistakable lust of a predator as it looked at the girl chained before it. It sauntered over, the faint fragrance of her skin wafting up, and saliva dripped thickly from between its teeth. Its gaze trailed over her thighs, collarbones, waist… It was hard to tell whether it lusted for her beauty or simply craved the fullness of flesh and blood.
“Aren’t you afraid of me?” it asked, apparently noticing how different she was from the others and, for once, restraining its impulses.
“Of course I’m afraid. But what good does that do?” Bai Xian replied airily, casually prodding the fire beside her, then countered, “Would you spare me if I showed you fear?”
“Of course not,” the Hound sneered.
A faint hissing and the smell of gunpowder drifted to Bai Xian’s ear.
“What’s that?” The Hound frowned, eyeing the clay jar she had hidden behind her.
A cotton wick protruding from the jar was burning quickly, sparks flying.
The beast leaned in for a closer look. At that very instant, the chains rattled, and the seemingly docile girl sprang up, thrusting a burning stick straight for the Hound’s eyes.
Instinctively, the beast raised a paw to block her, splinters and sparks flying.
“You dare—” the Hound began, but before it could finish, the girl, who just a moment ago had been fighting with desperate fury, abandoned her attack and dove headlong into the cauldron meant for stewing human flesh.
The sudden turn of events left even the Hound stunned for a few seconds.
And in that moment, the cotton fuse sealed in mud burned down to its end.
A surge of dread rose within the Hound, but its dull mind could not fathom what lay inside the jar.
While it hesitated, the burning wick reached the gunpowder packed within, igniting charge after charge in rapid succession.
Pressure built fast, and the crude clay jar could not contain the monstrous force within.
Boom!
A thunderous explosion lit up the entire platform. Shards of the jar, mixed with iron nails, burst forth.
Caught completely off guard, the Hound took the brunt of the blast. Its rock-hard skin erupted in bloody points, and the impact hurled it violently to the ground.
Darkness swam before its eyes; pain overwhelmed every inch of its body. Blood trickled from its sockets—the explosion had blinded it.
Howling miserably, it writhed like a beaten cur, all its former menace gone.
Bai Xian crawled out of the cauldron, barely able to stand. As she’d hoped, the iron pot had shielded her from the shrapnel, but not from the concussion of the blast. Deaf, dizzy, she could hear nothing from the world outside.
But there was no time to rest. The Hound was still struggling to rise, and Bai Xian dared not assume it lacked some means of recovery.
Forcing herself upright, reeling, she seized a heavy rock and staggered toward the beast.
Its vitality was astonishing—surviving an explosion at such close range. Had she not been lucky enough to blind it, she would likely have fallen prey.
Standing over the Hound, Bai Xian summoned all her remaining strength and brought the stone down upon its canine skull.
Thud!
A dull blow. The beast’s howls grew sharper, curses barely discernible.
But she was unmoved, raising the bloodied stone again.
Thud!
Thud!
Again and again, the heavy, rhythmic blows rang out into the forest, a beautiful girl in the firelight hoisting the rock and smashing it down without pause.
Blood soaked her chest, splattered across her cheeks, but she did not stop to wipe it away.
Thud!
Thud!
Squish!
A different, wet sound reached her ears as her hearing began to return, and the Hound’s wailing abruptly ceased.
This time, it was not foul blood that spattered, but scalding brain matter.
The stone had broken through the beast’s skull and sunk into its brow. The Hound’s ferocity was stilled for good.
“Indeed, a dead fiend is the best kind,” Bai Xian whispered, collapsing to the ground, every ounce of strength spent. With the adrenaline fading, even moving a finger was impossible.
She flipped to the page in her green-bound book depicting the Hound. The lifelike image now bore a blood-red “X”—proof the creature was truly dead.
But before she could savor her victory, the wooden door to the meat slaves’ cell creaked open. The burly woman stared in disbelief at the scene before her.
The explosion had so startled her that she’d been frozen in fear. Only now had she dared to step out and investigate, only to witness her master’s skull being crushed by Bai Xian.
“You… You killed Master Hound! How dare you!” The shock faded, and Old Yang’s face twisted with rage.
She had long since chosen to side with the Hound, countless fellow captives perishing by her hand. If these girls escaped alive, her own life was forfeit.
Bai Xian watched helplessly as the woman drew her whip and advanced. She closed her eyes in resignation—she truly had no strength left.
Bang!
“Ah!”
The expected pain never came. Instead, the woman collapsed, clutching the back of her head and crying out in agony.
Behind her, Ma Xiaowei stood, brandishing a dead branch and glaring fiercely.
“The Hound… the Hound is dead! The Hound is dead!” The news rippled outward, stirring a thousand emotions.
The meat slaves, uncertain, poked their heads timidly from the cave. When they saw the Hound’s mangled corpse, a spark of life returned to their numb faces.
Gradually, the joy of survival filled every heart.
The Hound was dead—they were free!
The girls poured from their prison, gathering together in tears of relief and happiness.
“Where do you think you’re going, Old Yang?” someone suddenly called out. The celebration stilled as every gaze turned to the hunched woman.
Their eyes shone with a strange light, a pack of wolves having finally cornered the fawn.
One of the meat slaves bent to pick up the whip Old Yang had dropped.
Under her desperate gaze, dozens of girls closed in.
The sound of the whip, flesh being struck, and the woman’s screams echoed through the dim forest, a scene at once eerie and cathartic.