Within the borders of Jiang Country, in Mozhou.
At the foot of Wanglong Mountain, Yang Village.
Inside a small, cramped earthen house with mud walls and a thatched roof.
Yang Che, dressed in rags, had been working hard on heavy tasks for most of the day on an empty stomach, and was now lying exhausted on a hard wooden board, not wanting to move an inch.
With a ‘bang’, the thin, half-broken wooden door was suddenly kicked open violently.
A slovenly, corpulent man reeking of alcohol walked in, holding a rattan cane.
Without a word, he began viciously lashing at Yang Che on the bed.
Burning pain shot through him, but Yang Che gritted his teeth and didn't utter a sound.
He struggled to get up, dragging his tired, scrawny body off the wooden bed, staring blankly at the drunkard before him.
“You little bastard, have you learned to slack off now?”
The drunkard cursed as he swung the rattan cane, continuing to lash out.
Yang Che, expressionless, turned and walked out the door.
He knew that if he didn't go into the mountains and find something valuable to bring back, that drunkard Yang Hu would literally beat him to death.
Stepping out of the earthen house, Yang Che suddenly caught a whiff of a strong aroma of food, which made his stomach churn and feel even more uncomfortable.
Not far from the earthen house, from a few brick and tile houses, a boy's impatient shout faintly echoed: “Mom, give me another chicken leg!”
Yang Che knew that was the drunkard Yang Hu’s wife and child, who had white steamed buns for every meal and meat every day.
Even Yang Hu’s dog ate better than him.
His Adam's apple bobbed several times, Yang Che licked his dry lips, then looked up at the dark, oppressive clouds in the sky with his gaunt, dark face. After a moment of hesitation, he still trudged towards Wanglong Mountain with great difficulty.
He was twelve years old this year, but he had already been brutally beaten by that drunkard Yang Hu for six years.
When he was nearly six, his grandfather, with whom he depended on, suddenly passed away.
Yang Hu, leveraging his status as Yang Che’s clan uncle, used the pretense of raising Yang Che to secretly seize his family’s few acres of barren land.
Yang Hu was lazy, a glutton, and a heavy drinker. Not only did he only give Yang Che one meal a day, but he also forced Yang Che to do very heavy farm work.
Furthermore, Yang Che often had to go into the mountains to find valuable mountain goods to bring back; otherwise, his one meal a day would become one meal every two days, and he would also suffer beatings with the rattan cane.
If Yang Che hadn’t been clever enough to always find something to eat to barely satiate his hunger when he went into the mountains, he would have probably starved to death long ago.
Yang Che stepped into the desolate mountains, expending a great deal of effort to finally climb halfway up a certain peak.
Suddenly, a clap of thunder startled the sky, and a bolt of lightning struck directly into the mountain forest. Yang Che smelled a pungent burning odor.
Immediately after, torrential rain poured down, and Yang Che was quickly soaked. He had no choice but to move through the forest, trying to find a place to shelter from the rain.
However, the rain was too heavy, obstructing his vision, and Yang Che was simply too hungry, so he quickly lost his strength.
He stumbled along, his steps completely unsteady, and in his desperation, he suddenly missed a step, causing his entire body to tumble forward.
Then, with a ‘bang’, he seemed to have hit a rock. Yang Che felt stars in his eyes and the world spinning.
The sharp pain from his waist brought him to his senses somewhat. In a daze, he noticed a pitch-black pit entrance about three to five zhang to his right, so he struggled and crawled into it.
Just as he crawled in, another bolt of lightning suddenly struck, landing precisely at the pit entrance.
With a rumble, the pit entrance collapsed, and Yang Che plummeted straight down, then slammed heavily onto a hard stone surface, falling unconscious.
...
Yang Che slowly regained consciousness, struggling to lift his heavy eyelids. He turned his head and saw that he was lying in a dark, eerie tunnel.
He struggled to sit up, and couldn't help but wince, letting out a ‘hiss’ of pain. He touched his waist and found it covered in blood, already a blurry mess.
The injury to his waist was not terrifying; having endured six years of beatings, Yang Che was already accustomed to such things.
What was terrifying was hunger.
Prolonged starvation had begun to make his consciousness hazy.
Yang Che knew clearly that if he didn't find something to eat soon, he would truly starve to death.
He looked up and saw that due to the collapse, smooth rock walls were exposed all around, making it seem impossible to climb out.
Then he looked into the depths of the tunnel, where it was pitch black, appearing eerie and terrifying, with no end in sight, and he didn't know where it led.
Whether from hunger or fear, Yang Che felt weak all over. He wanted to get up, but after struggling for a long time, he still couldn't stand.
He couldn't help but think of his bitter fate, his nose stung, and he felt that it would be better to die and be free.
Thinking this, since he wasn't even afraid of death, what else was there to fear? The fear in his heart suddenly greatly diminished.
Gritting his teeth and enduring, Yang Che still managed to stand up with difficulty. Leaning on the stone wall, he shuffled his still trembling legs, limping slowly towards the depths of the tunnel.
Several times, he almost collapsed from hunger and wanted to give up, but his instinct for survival inexplicably gave him some strength.
After traversing a long, dark passage, the front suddenly brightened. Yang Che instinctively shielded his eyes with his hand. Then, when he removed his hand and saw the scene before him, he couldn't help but be stunned.
This was actually a spacious natural Stone Cave, and deeper inside the Stone Cave, he could hear the gurgling sound of water.
The place seemed to have been modified by someone; a glowing orb was embedded in the ceiling of the Stone Cave, illuminating the area brightly.
More than half of the Stone Cave was a nursery enclosed by broken stones, but it seemed to have been abandoned, with many flowers and plants withered. Only a single strange flower, about a foot tall, was still stubbornly growing alone.
The other smaller half of the Stone Cave had a stone table, stone stools, and a stone bed.
Yang Che saw a terrifying skeleton sitting cross-legged on the stone bed, and fear suddenly gripped him again.
However, after waiting for a while and seeing no movement from the skeleton, he mustered his courage and moved into the Stone Cave, beginning to examine it carefully.
On the wall next to the stone bed, two layers of stone shelves had been carved out. On them lay three ancient, yellowed books, a black scroll made of an unknown material, and a few scattered bottles and jars.
Yang Che moved to the stone shelves, casually picked up an ancient book, blew off the dust, and saw several large characters on the cover, but unfortunately, he was illiterate and couldn't understand them at all.
Putting the ancient book back, Yang Che anxiously began to search for something to eat.
Unfortunately, after searching around, he found nothing edible.
“Am I really going to starve to death here?”
Sorrow welled up in Yang Che. The relaxation of his will made him feel dizzy, wanting to lie down and simply fall unconscious.
Just then, he suddenly smelled a strange fragrance, which invigorated him. He then bit the tip of his tongue hard, instantly clearing his mind somewhat.
Carefully sniffing with his nose, Yang Che gradually shifted his gaze to the solitary, peculiar flower in the nursery.
Having spent years searching for mountain goods in the mountains, he naturally knew that some flowers and plants were rare medicinal herbs. Last spring, he had found one and planned to secretly sell it in town, but who knew that Yang Hu would discover it halfway? Yang Hu not only snatched the medicinal herb but also beat him severely and starved him for three days and three nights.
This strange flower was about a foot tall, with seven thorny, dark green small leaves growing on its stem, and at the base of each leaf was a thumb-sized black fruit.
The strange fragrance just now emanated from this flower, but Yang Che looked at these ink-black fruits and dared not pick them to eat.
He had suffered losses in the mountains before; that time, he ate unknown wild fruits indiscriminately, seemed to have been poisoned, and his stomach hurt for several days, tormenting him to no end. Fortunately, he endured it in the end and miraculously survived.
However, Yang Che was truly unbearably hungry. He thought that starving to death was no different from being poisoned to death, so he steeled his heart and reached out to pick the black fruit.
“Don’t eat me, don’t eat me…”
A faint voice suddenly echoed abruptly in Yang Che’s ears.
Yang Che shivered all over, instinctively recoiled a few steps, and stammered, “Who?”
There was no reply for a long time.
Yang Che forced himself to calm down, looked thoughtfully at the flower before him again, and once more reached out to pick the black fruit.
“Don’t eat me…”
The faint voice indeed sounded again.
Yang Che was horrified. A flower could actually speak?
This… Could this be the terrifying flower demon of legend?
