Si Teng (Rattan) – Five Years Later – CH14

Pruning people like bamboo?

Qin Fang laughed at this at first, but then he thought about it and felt a chill down his spine: “You’ve been in the world for many years; don’t you know that people aren’t bamboo?”

Kong Jinghua said, “So what if people aren’t bamboo? The principles are the same.”

As she spoke, her eyes unconsciously looked up: “Xixi?”

The principles were the same? What kind of principles? What kind of bullshit was this?

Qin Fang found it incomprehensible: “Do you know that if you pruned people like bamboo, they would die? If I hadn’t rescued Yi Ru in time, she would have died too.”

“Bamboo will die if it’s not pruned properly.”

What did she mean? Was she trying to say that she pruned people like bamboo, treating them like her own children? Would that make her seem particularly noble and fair?

Qin Fang was speechless. Red Umbrella was certainly detestable, but her actions were just as upright as his own. At least she had a valid argument and reasoning. Kong Jinghua, on the other hand, was simply… like talking to a cow.

As he spoke, Xizhu had already opened the cupboard door and poked her head out. Qin Fang, fearing Kong Jinghua might react, was extremely cautious. But she simply stared at Xizhu and sighed deeply, “You’re actually… a monster too, right?”

She should have known better. Ordinary children couldn’t be so eccentric.

Xizhu answered irrelevantly, “You’re a monster. Why would you adopt someone else’s child?”

That was exactly what Qin Fang wanted to ask. If Kong Jinghua were a harmful monster, perhaps he would be more emotionally receptive—a monster who adopted someone else’s child. Even if her parenting methods were appalling, she was truly disciplining them according to the “Seven Virtues of Bamboo”…

What was that? A quirk?

“I’m old and dying soon. I need to find a reliable younger generation to take care of my affairs after my death.”

She said this matter-of-factly, the implication clear: No one in this world was inherently reliable. Only by observing everything and teaching them step by step could one truly trust them.

Xizhu was startled. “Can monsters die of old age?”

Kong Jinghua said, “You’re such a little monster. You haven’t been a spirit for a few years, have you? Monsters die of old age. Everything in this world has different lifespans, but everything has its ups and downs. No matter how long you live, it all comes to an end… If I hadn’t been old, I wouldn’t have been so severely injured by him back in Phoenix Mountain.”

As she spoke, she glanced at Qin Fang, whether intentionally or not.

Qin Fang smiled, suddenly remembering that night when his hand reached into Kong Jinghua’s chest; it truly felt like cracking through dry, old bamboo.

Xizhu remained silent. She hadn’t known that demons could die. Qiu Shan had never mentioned it. She only knew that demons were captured and killed by Taoist priests.

So demons could die, too. It made sense, on reflection. Birth, aging, sickness, and death were inevitable for all living things. Didn’t even the stars in the sky wither and die?

Qin Fang felt the situation was a bit daunting.

Not only was it daunting, it was almost ridiculous. He had always believed that Yi Ru’s killer was a ruthless murderer, but now, the murderer was standing right before him, nonchalantly telling him, “I was just ‘disciplining’ the child.”

What could he do? Capture her? Kill her?

Just as he was hesitating, Xizhu suddenly asked a strange question: “How old were you when you first transformed?”

Kong Jinghua was puzzled. “A little younger than you are now, still a baby.”

“Then when did you grow up?”

Kong Jinghua suddenly realized, “No wonder you like measuring your height so much. Xixi, if you were human, you’d experience birth, old age, sickness, and death in a hundred or eighty years and grow up quickly. But it’s different for demons. Demons have very long lifespans, and cultivating demonic powers takes a long time, decades, even centuries. You rarely see significant changes in their appearance.”

Qin Fang’s heart suddenly trembled, as if he suddenly understood something.

Xizhu sat in the cupboard, as if she had suddenly become a different person. She looked down at Kong Jinghua, her voice almost smooth, “Are there exceptions?”

“There was.”

“Once upon a time, nearly a hundred years ago, in southwestern Yunnan, a white vine became a demon. Perhaps you’ve heard of her. Her name was Si Teng.”

Qin Fang sighed softly.

Kong Jinghua also sighed. “That’s the only demon I’ve ever heard of. It transformed into a spirit in 1910 and, in just a few years, became renowned.”

Xizhu sat there motionless, her eyes glittering strangely in the darkness.

“But it’s also the only demon that cannibalizes its own kind.”

Around 1930, Kong Jinghua was summoned to Qingcheng by an urgent letter.

If it weren’t for an urgent matter, she wouldn’t have come here. Born a demon, she had many taboos: Qingcheng, Wudang, Qiyun, and Longhu Mountains. She avoided them whenever possible. Even seeing similar words would bring her bad luck, much like how boatmen avoided the word “flip” or woodcutters avoided the word “fire.”

Birds of a feather flocked together, and demons flocked together. Normally, the self-righteous spirits of plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum would never associate with a foul-smelling fox demon or deer spirit. But the situation was dire, and there was no time for concern. She still remembered that night, when the wind was so strong that even with the doors and windows shut, the flame of the oil lamp on the long table still flickered, waxing and waning.

She didn’t know what they were afraid of, but everyone spoke in hushed voices.

—There’s always trouble. No demon that has encountered Si Teng has returned.

—It doesn’t make sense. Could the transformation of 1910 have been just a cover? Demons who have cultivated for thousands of years have all fallen to her.

—I hear she’s becoming more powerful each time. I’ve never heard of anyone cultivating demonic powers so advanced. Unless…

As the conversation progressed, everyone looked at each other, seeing inexplicable fear in each other’s eyes. Finally, someone finally uttered the question that had been lingering in everyone’s minds: “Swallowing demon essence, feeding demons with demons—could Si Teng be doing… cannibalism?”

The wind shook the eaves, creaking them. In the deathly silence, the plum demon spoke first: “This matter can’t be blamed on those Taoists. We can’t just sit here and wait for death. Any delay will cost us all our lives.”

As if swearing a blood oath, a plan for capture and killing quickly emerged. Everyone pledged their support and placed tokens.

“I’ll do it.”

“I’ll do it too.”

As she declared her commitment, she lowered a slender bamboo branch with a few slender leaves hanging from it. The plum demon placed a single stem of red plum blossoms, its sparse blossoms so red they looked as if they were dripping with blood.

Following the plan, one person went to lure the enemy while the others waited. For some reason, Kong Jinghua grew increasingly frightened, huddled in her hiding place, trembling. The Plum Demon said to her, “You’ve seen little of the world and can’t handle a big fight.”

As she spoke, she covered her smiling mouth. She was always charming, and this smile was particularly beautiful. She added, “Did you know that plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum are known as the Four Gentlemen of the World? We can become sworn brothers.”

As she spoke, she called out to the other two. This time, by chance, all four of them were there. Asking for directions, they found east, west, south, and north, a perfect match. According to the order of seniority, Kong Jinghua was the youngest.

It’s hard to tell whether those two disliked her or genuinely cared for her. They said Jinghua’s shaking body was a complete joke for the beast monsters. Anyway, one more wasn’t too many, and since they were ranked, they were giving her a favor: find a safe hiding place and watch the battle.

Kong Jinghua was overwhelmed with shame, too embarrassed to take the next step. The Plum Demon comforted her, saying, “That’s not entirely true. What if Si Teng proves powerful…”

At this point, her expression grew serious. “If Si Teng proves powerful, someone will have to know how we died, and those afterlife affairs will have to be arranged. Besides, if you’ve glimpsed some secret, it might be the key to defeating her in the future. Or maybe we’re all defeated, and it’s up to you to turn the tide.”

She was clearly fleeing in fear, but the Plum Demon’s clever words made her look brilliant.

She found a safe hiding place, and just as she was settled, she heard a heartbreaking cry: “Here she comes!”

It was the Deer Demon that had lured her. When she uttered the first word, she was still whole, but by the second, she was torn in two. Dark blood splattered against the backdrop of the night, almost choking her breath.

She saw the legendary Si Teng up close.

Si Teng was so young, only about eighteen or nineteen, wearing a man’s theatrical robe, the kind worn by a man who had committed a crime and was being held captive on the stage. He was dressed entirely in black, with the word “Prisoner” written in large white on her chest.

Kong Jinghua had no idea that Si Teng had already developed a fondness for the opera. Nor had she known that when the Deer Demon went to seduce her, she was alone backstage, in costume, facing the mirror, her headband tied around her neck, her eyes raised, each stroke drawing a strange, almost ghostly shape. Nor had she known that just before her sudden attack, she had calmly painted her lips a vibrant crimson.

All she knew was that her sudden appearance was like a knife thrust from the side, brutal and relentless, a smile perpetually playing at the corner of her lips, more terrifying than even her ruthless, ferocious presence.

A bloody melee ensued, with screams cascading down the hallways. Fortunately for Kong Jinghua, who was observing from the sidelines, she gradually discerned something unusual amidst the raging blood and flesh.

Someone hidden in the shadows aided Si Teng, using some unknown method to deflect numerous surprise and ambush attacks.

Their side gradually lost ground, and the Plum Demon yelled, “Go! Hurry!”

The remaining people fled in different directions, but just as they rushed out, they seemed to bump into something, hitting the wall and falling to the ground.

A faint glow appeared. It was the “Dao Stamp Sealing Gate” cast by the Taoists. Small Eight-Trigram Seals, one after another, interspersed and arranged to form a dome-like shape, or rather a large, fenced cage, trapping all the demons within.

Kong Jinghua broke out in a cold sweat.

Could it be that while the mantis stalked the cicada, the oriole was behind, and the Taoist sect had also intervened?

The demons’ fear of the Taoists was perhaps even greater than their fear of Si Teng. The Plum Demon yelled, “Wait, Si Teng, listen to me!”

The battle had subsided slightly. Every demon was bloodied and exhausted. Si Teng, standing in mid-air, practically leaning against the Eight-Trigram Seal, asked, “What are you going to say?”

She still had her headband tied around her neck, her long hair hanging slightly as she spoke nonchalantly.

The Plum Demon said, “If we’re caught by the Taoists, we’ll all be dead. Regardless, we’re all demons. Let’s not discuss any grudges. Let’s work together and get out first.”

Si Teng half-closed her eyes, as if considering the feasibility of what the Plum Demon said. She paused and chuckled, then whispered, “Okay.”

Her long hair flowed like a waterfall, unending, transforming into thousands of vine branches that instantly swept the unsuspecting Plum Demon into the air and bit her throat.

Kong Jinghua’s head exploded with a bang. Her perceptions became hazy over time. She saw the Plum Demon’s body twitching and struggling in midair until it gradually collapsed. A muffled thud was heard as the Plum Demon’s limp body plummeted to the ground. Her vision gradually blurred, but she could still see Si Teng turn around, extend a finger, and casually wipe the remaining blood from the corner of her lips.

Kong Jinghua could barely control herself. She lowered her head, almost choking with sobs. When she looked up again, the scene of carnage had returned to calm. She saw the back of a Taoist priest. The Taoist priest opened a door above the dome formed by the Eight-Trigram Seal.

Si Teng emerged from that door.

She didn’t hear what the Taoist priest said to Si Teng, but she only heard Si Teng’s almost respectful reply, “If I go now, I can still catch the second half of the play.”

The second half? Watching a play? Was that a real Taoist priest? If not, how could he possibly perform the “Dao Stamp Sealing Gate”?

Si Teng approached, her footsteps rustling, almost right before her eyes. Kong Jinghua was so frightened that she almost held her breath.

Then, Si Teng stopped in front of her.

Kong Jinghua thought she had been discovered.

Thankfully, she hadn’t. Si Teng didn’t notice her. She simply paused, a strange expression on her face. The sudden respect she had shown when speaking to the Taoist priest was gone. Instead, it was replaced by an expression of inexplicable cruelty and disgust.

Then, with a casual scoop, she found a blood-red plum blossom in her hand.

That was the Plum Demon’s power, but now it was all hers.

She picked up the blossom, brought it to her nose, sniffed it, twirled it lightly between her fingers, and discarded it.

Kong Jinghua’s voice was hollow and desolate. “Later, I learned that the Taoist priest’s name was Qiu Shan. Later, I heard that just as Qiu Shan was about to be anointed as the Celestial Master, Si Teng revealed his secret. Finally, I think it was in 1946 that Taoist Qiu Shan killed Si Teng and died in Qingcheng Mountain.”

“Everything follows a season. Autumn and winter follow spring and summer, and day follows night. It takes a long time for a demon to cultivate and acquire demonic powers. Si Teng was an exception. She robbed and seized from others, so of course, she progressed quicker, but there was always retribution.”