Chapter One: Hero or Beauty?

　　"The world is getting worse, and people are losing their morals..."

　　As dusk approached, a long sigh echoed along a winding mountain path at the foot of Black Wind Mountain, thirty li west of Niutou Village.

　　Walking along the path was a boy of about eleven or twelve. His face was fair, his clothes rough and worn but clean, his eyes and face round, and his expression lazy. At first glance, he seemed honest, shy, and gentle—someone who naturally put others at ease. Yet now, with his hands behind his back, walking alone on this desolate path, he appeared a bit strange. After all, with the sun setting and wild beasts roaming the mountains, a child like him shouldn't be here.

　　What was even more surprising was that, despite his young age, his face showed a look of deep distress as he walked and sighed.

　　"Just think of me, Henry Foster, Mr. Foster, a dignified descendant of immortals—climbing trees at three, catching fish at five, undefeated in fights with all the village kids by seven, and by eight, able to argue with Widow Hua all day long. Born with astonishing talent, extraordinary from birth, a lonely hero who has never lost..."

　　"So what if I stole a chicken from Old Lady Wang's house? That bunch of wretches dares to come after me for compensation..."

　　"...What does this mean?"

　　"...It means my chicken-stealing skills still aren't refined enough, to actually get caught!"

　　"......"

　　"......"

　　The little boy named Henry Foster shook his head as he walked, seriously reflecting on himself.

　　Now, as the sun was about to withdraw its last rays, the world was gradually darkening. Especially in these wild mountains, the autumn wind made the tall grass sway and the trees rustle, sending chills down one's back. Henry Foster felt a bit uneasy and muttered to himself, "This wretched mountain has always had scary rumors—demons and ghosts eating people. Could I really run into one?"

　　"No, I can't scare myself!"

　　The more he thought about it, the more frightened he became, so he shook his little head and reasoned with himself, "I'm a descendant of immortals, born extraordinary. Even if there really are little demons or ghosts, would they dare mess with me? They should be hiding from me! Anyway, I'm not going deep into the mountains, just hiding here for the night. Tomorrow morning I'll go back and say the immortal ancestor told me to wait another ten years—let's see who dares disrespect me then..."

　　Thinking this, he relaxed and looked around.

　　He was already deep in the mountains, and the autumn wind was biting. He needed to find a sheltered spot. After a few steps, he spotted an old, half-collapsed grave on the hillside to his left, with a tombstone in front and hollows on either side—perfect for blocking the wind. Delighted, he hurried over, curled up beside the grave, stuck his hands into his sleeves, and lay down comfortably.

　　Crossing his legs, he looked at the tombstone, saw it belonged to some old man surnamed Lu, and said, "Brother Lu, I'm in trouble today, so I'll borrow your spot to rest for the night. When my immortal ancestor comes to take me home and I make it big, I'll come back and put up a new tombstone for you. Tonight, help me keep an eye on things, and don't let any clueless wild animal run off with my shoes..."

　　Muttering, he touched the copper coin hanging on his chest and felt at ease.

　　……

　　……

　　The boy, carefree as he was, really curled up by the grave and fell asleep. Before long, he was dozing off, dreaming of the immortal grandpa descending from the sky, the snobbish folks of Niutou Village fighting to cling to his leg, stuffing fat chicken, pork, and white buns into his arms. He held Red Bao'er in his left arm and Widow Hua in his right, eating until his mouth was greasy, laughing heartily!

　　A chilly wind swept over the hill, making the leaves rustle.

　　In the distance, there seemed to be faint howls of demons, and the ground trembled ever so slightly.

　　At some point, strange noises began to echo around him—like wind blowing through holes, or wild foxes crying at graves.

　　Henry Foster suddenly woke up, wiped the drool from his mouth, and immediately felt a sharp hunger in his belly.

　　The chicken he stole yesterday had been eaten up early in the morning, and when he left home today, he was too proud to beg breakfast from Butcher Li, so he hadn't eaten a single grain of rice all day. After trekking thirty li through the mountains, he was starving.

　　Thinking it over, Henry Foster decided to go find something to eat. He remembered seeing a small stream to the south when he entered the mountains—maybe he could catch some fat fish. He got up, and by the moonlight, made his way deeper into the woods, step by careful step.

　　He was used to roaming the wilds, and hunger only made him more determined, especially with the thought of grilled fish spurring him on. After wandering about three or four li through the forest, he heard the sound of rushing water ahead. Overjoyed, he hurried forward, but just as he rounded the foot of a hill, he suddenly froze, eyes wide in shock.

　　The moon was bright overhead, casting a pale light all around, and a strong, bloody stench filled the air.