古董下山 (ENGLISH: Old Fogey Goes Down The Mountain)

Chapter 1 - The Mountain King And His Little Brother

The shadows of the trees flicker back and forth. Dusk light from the setting sun filtered through the foliage, dimly casting a stream of golden red rays.

Dense foliage and narrow paths as far as the eye can see with endless clouds tumbling off to the side below. Even if you listen closely, only thin whispers of insect calls and chirps can be heard. Every so often, you can also hear the cries of wild animals, coming from deep forests that have already sank into the darkness of night.

This solemn place is an uninhabited mountain peak.

The strange thing is, in such a hidden and remote place, there stands a house.

Calling it a house is actually giving it too much face. This piece of architecture is little more than a straw hut. The owner is clearly not very picky to construct something so dissolute: Thin pieces of lumber that look like they must have went through a famine were struggling to hold up a cap of loose and messy rice straw, its crooked stance makes it look like it will kneel down and kowtow the very next second. A low and short fence made of bamboo so sparsely stuck in the ground that a wild chicken can get through without ruffling its feathers. In the middle of the yard is an incomparably ugly wooden table, together with the higgledy-piggledy assembly of chopping blocks and knives and the kitchen range half a meter away that's smeared with something stomach churning. This area should be the kitchen and dining area. At this moment, the not-windproof-at-all bamboo door of the straw hut was wide open. One can see inside there was a bed and squatting at the head of the bed was a deer, a weasel, and a wild dog.

This exotic combo gathered together, yet hasn't fought. Out in the yard, other animals occasionally came and left, all trying to hear the sounds of the rambling person inside the hut.

A second later, the trees in the distance suddenly rustled.

That little bit of movement in the ears of the wild beasts is nothing short of the roar of a natural enemy, the creatures that have been poking their head around the bamboo fence instantly puffed out their fur and scattered. But the next moment, a thin figure enveloped with the thick stench of blood stepped out from the shadows of twilight.

(T/N: 炸着毛 means puffing out fur like a cat does when scared... but literally translates 'hair explodes' which is so much funnier haha)

The incoming figure wasn't very tall with messy medium length hair tied behind his head with only a strip of cloth. He was wearing a Taoist robe that was littered with patches overlapping more patches. Revealed underneath his rolled up sleeves were arms of mere skin and bones, deathly pale white skin, and appearing exceptionally frail and weak like having been starved for three days. The kind of beggar that just emerged from under a bridge to beg for scraps from passerbys.

Yet those frail looking hands of his, was actually holding a wild boar the size of a brown bear.

The wild boars throat was cruelly and precisely slit open with a long blood trail that dragged the whole way, it's teeth on display, a truly ferocious appearance. The nighttime mountain breeze whipped by, blowing up the hunter's messy hair, he impatiently gathered it up again, revealing an undeniably handsome face that was smeared in blood.

WeiXi brought over today's catch, and with a blink of his eye already knew the situation inside the straw hut. He furrowed his brows and gave the bamboo door a kick, the lecture inside immediately came to a halt. A moment later, WeiDeDao's aged hoarse voice floated out: "Disciple?"

WeiXi threw the boar in front of the stove and said: "What kind of things did you let in this time?"

The three animals that were listening inside the room obediently backed out. Before leaving, the deer, who is especially good at recognizing human facial expressions, nodded towards WeiXi. The weasel and wild dog made eye contact with WeiXi, tucked their tail between their legs and ran off.