On Half Moon Mountain, lights shone brightly; below, shadows loomed heavy.
The masked man gazed into the distance, looking at the starry sky. He stood with his hands behind his back, his wide sleeves fluttering even without wind, and a whisk was tucked into his waistband, as if he might be carried away by the wind at any moment.
The people behind him looked at him with piety and respect. One of them, whose armor was more refined and shiny with patterns, bowed forward, his eyes burning with fervor and full of reverence, and asked, "Sir, how much longer shall we wait?"
The masked figure remained motionless, eyelids lowered, and glanced at him indifferently out of the corner of his eye, as if a god were looking down upon an ant. The voice came from behind the white mask, not muffled, but rather carried a sense of composure and mystery: "We will wait until the time is ripe."
As if hearing a sacred message, the man's face lit up with excitement, and he looked as if he had finally understood. He did not forget to swear his loyalty: "We will do our utmost to help you, even if it means being crushed to pieces."
The masked man's gaze turned disdainful, but when he lowered his eyes and turned back, it changed to one of approval. He reached out and gently helped Lin Yuan up: "Lin Yuan, right? You're not bad."
Supported by him, Lin Yuan heard these words and felt as if he had also drunk the wine from the mountaintop, becoming so tipsy that he lost track of time.
He gripped the hilt of his sword, his voice filled with fervor: "At your command, sir, we will set the fire. The demons will scatter and flee. We will kill every one that comes out, and we will not let them ruin your business."
The masked man shook his head in disapproval, and said with deep sorrow, "How can you kill innocent people indiscriminately? The purpose of setting fires was only to disturb the demons and drive them away from the mountain demons."
“Your Excellency is right. The mountain demon is the worst of all evils. The other demons were also coerced. If we kill them, how are we any different from the mountain demon?”
On the mountain, the mountain demon's face turned cold and somewhat puzzled upon hearing the boy's reply. He wondered how these mortals had the audacity to venture into Half Moon Mountain.
He asked the boy, "How strong is the opponent?"
The boy shook his head hesitantly: "I was afraid of being discovered, so I didn't pay attention."
He was a spirit of ginseng fruit, and plant roots are especially afraid of fire. Upon hearing this, he rushed back in a hurry, paying no attention to anything else.
He was blaming himself and preparing to go again when he heard the red-haired fox speak up: "The leader has a strange aura. His strength should be two or three points weaker than yours, but stronger than the other demons. The others are just ordinary people, but their blades are poisoned and have an evil aura."
The mandrill looked arrogant, its eyes filled with mockery, and it said disdainfully, "I thought it was some powerful character. How dare you come to trespass on my Half-Moon Mountain with such strength?"
"If you were attacked while you were drunk, how much of your strength would you be able to muster?"
The mandrill's face stiffened, and he slammed his hand on the armrest of his chair, his voice ringing out: "I'll give him one hand, and I'll still make sure he doesn't leave alive."
Emperor Xiu, deciding to give this mountain bandit some face, didn't continue. The young boy beside him asked nervously, "Your Majesty, what do we do next?"
"Of course, we should make sure they never return."
The mandrill looked down at the various animals lying haphazardly, then proceeded to beat up the shapeshifting fairies on or under the nearby low chairs one by one, forcing them to come to their senses. Those with weapons grabbed them, ready to strike first.
Now that we know the other party has ill intentions, there's no need to wait for them to set fire before retaliating.
Some of these demons are naturally fierce, but in order to attain immortality, they have restrained themselves as much as possible. In their daily lives, they no longer kill other living beings except to fill their stomachs. Now, upon hearing that someone is planning to burn the mountain, their suppressed bloodlust immediately surges up.
Di Xiu prepared to follow and see what was happening, but the mountain demon frowned at him: "A fox spirit who hasn't even taken human form, are you going to your death by following along?"
The fox spirit who hadn't yet taken human form: "Oh."
When the other sober fairies asked what happened, the little boy's face turned pale, but he still smiled and said it was nothing, and told them to continue playing.
Suddenly, only two foxes remained of the twelve chairs: one was Di Xiu, and the other was Hu Dayu's cub, who had previously served as a pillow for the little boy.
Beside Di Xiu were a few unseen 001s. They sat side by side, each with their minds on two things at once: their eyes were watching the monkeys perform, while their minds were "watching" the fight scene about to unfold at the foot of the mountain.
001 thought for a while and muttered, "Could that masked man be the Imperial Advisor?"
The timeline given is limited, and the Grand Preceptor is a very powerful figure in it. However, whether in Xu Liang's story or Hu Sibai's memories, we only know his name but never see him. We don't know if he is male or female, old or young, or what his appearance or personality is.
"To become the Imperial Preceptor and be so respected by officials and even the common people, one must at least be a seemingly virtuous person. This image and these words and actions seem to fit the bill," 001 boldly speculated.
Teishu's views were consistent with his.
"If things had gone according to plan, would all the demons on this mountain have died?"
Di Xiu didn't answer, but placed his tail on his head and patted him gently.
The masked man who was suspected to be the imperial advisor was indeed quite capable. The mountain demon had originally planned to launch a sneak attack back, but somehow he discovered it.
The masked man shouted "Form ranks!" and everyone tacitly surrounded him, forming eight ranks of five in the center, while the rest formed a circle, drawing their swords and preparing for battle.
Their movements were synchronized and rapid, as if they had rehearsed countless times.
Seeing this, the mandrill stopped hiding, roared, and leaped up, making the ground seem to tremble.
In mid-air, he transformed into his original form: a human face with long arms, a black body covered in hair, and a single leg pointing backward. In his hand, he held a spiked club, each spike incredibly sharp, which he brought down heavily on the masked man, only to be blocked by a whisk.
The handle of the whisk is extremely thin, carved from fine black jade in the shape of a bamboo joint. The hairs at the front seem to be extremely soft, yet harder than black iron. When it was placed against the mace, it did not break.
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