I am a demon, born on the peak of Mount Fulong in December when the world is covered with snow.
I don't remember which year it was, seven hundred years ago?! A thousand years ago?! Perhaps even earlier.
Before I took on a human form, every winter and summer, there were always human beings of various ages and backgrounds, with their own thoughts, either traveling alone or with their families, dauntlessly climbing up day and night to the summit of Mount Fulong where it meets the sky.
My eyes were filled with the sweat of their devoutness; my ears were filled with their screams of falling off the cliff.
Standing tall at the peak, looking down at the lucky ones crawling at my feet, I had no qualms about accepting their worship, allowing them to hang strands of colorful brocade threads on my body with trembling hands.
There were as many threads as there were wishes.
These people, who regarded me as a god, stubbornly believed that I could grant them all the blessings they desired. For thousands of years, they didn't care that this was a mountain without a path, disregarded the piles of bones in the ravine at the foot of the mountain, ignored the poisonous berries covering the cliffs, and were willing to sacrifice their lives to show their boundless devotion - devotion to me.
However, I am not a god, and was unable to fulfill any of their wishes.
The seven-colored halo on my body was just to attract ignorant birds and small animals to feed me in the darkness of night, nothing more. But it was wrongly regarded as a miracle of the Buddha's Light that brings blessings to humankind.
What a misunderstanding! Indeed a sin.
However, it was not my fault, but humans' bad habit of wishful thinking and hearing what they want to hear.
So, I didn't bother clarifying. As a demon being worshiped like a god, I didn't reject this feeling; in fact, I kind of liked it. Besides, observing wholly different faces and listening to all sorts of strange prayers of those living humans was much more conducive to passing my boring time than facing the inert and silent rocks, flowers and plants all day long.
Yes, my time was boring, my life was lonely. The peak of Mount Fulong was my entire world; apart from this spot, I couldn't go anywhere else. I'd been watching the same scenery day in and day out for hundreds of years, seeing the sun rise and set, the wind blowing and stopping, the flowers blooming and withering, with each day indistinguishable from the next.
Every time I watched satisfied humans leave, I always fantasized that I could leave with brisk steps like them one day.
The world below the mountain was what I had always longed for.
However, I could not leave here, not even a step.
Because I am a tree demon.
My life was a great tangled root system under the hard soil and stones, expanding and thriving well day after day, year after year. I knew very well in my heart that without the soil, a tree will only have one end.
To live, I could not have freedom.
Such is the fate of being a tree demon, which is both a bit absurd and cruel.
However, I had gradually grown accustomed to these motionless days. Compared to those silent counterparts in inconspicuous corners who eventually vanish in obscurity, I might consider myself lucky. Because I bore the halo of "god," thanks to which I could still have some sham happiness and some unrealistic fantasies.
That's something to be grateful for, right?!
Actually, there is a way to change this fate. As long as I cultivated into a human form, I could break free from my real body and have the freedom to move. I knew about this method very, very early on. However, for me, this "way" was equivalent to a fantasy. With my shallow cultivation, I was afraid I would turn into a handful of dust before I achieved human form, both my body and soul disappearing entirely. Living things do not last forever, and magical beings are no exception. Whether it's a thousand years or ten thousand years, they will die one day; just like the truth of human beings from birth to death. The only difference is one is short and the other is long, that's all.
No one is immortal, be they humans or supernatural beings.
A tree demon, but yearning for freedom.
In those stagnant and desolate days, fantasy and despair coexisted.
However, just when I resigned myself to grow old and die on Mount Fulong, my life of deceiving myself and others came to an end without any warning on a scorching summer night…
He had just rescued a mother and her child who slipped from the cliff. The survivors were sitting by the mountainside, still trembling from their narrow escape. Yet, they didn't utter a word of thanks to their rescuer, not out of fear-induced forgetfulness, but because they didn't know whom to thank.
He deliberately concealed himself so that mortals could not see him.
But I could, crystal clear.
He leaned against me, basking in the clear moonlight, patiently waiting for this group of worshippers to leave.
Besides those humans and prey, no one had ever been so close to me. I never appreciated the humility of humans begging or the panic of prey being caught. But I liked him. Liked his extraordinary but non-intimidating aura, which was cold and profound yet with a soft warmth...
"It can't be like this from now on."
When everyone finally dispersed, he spoke to me for the first time, calm and composed, neither smiling nor angry.
Though I lived in solitude, I was not stupid; his veiled reproach and warning displeased me.
The seven-colored radiance burst layer by layer from my body, illuminating half of the mountain with a dazzling display of light. I moved with the wind, swaying gracefully as if dancing, and attracting more attention than ever before.
I did it on purpose.
An unknown white bird fell into my trap without any precautions, perching among the beautiful and translucent branches and leaves, singing softly.
Silent and stealthy, I moved one of the thousands of branches closer to today's prey.
The bird was too absorbed in its own enchanting song to detect the slightest scent of death.
With a slight lift, I swiftly caught its fragile neck. With a little more force, this little thing would bid farewell to its proud song forever.
The prey flapped its wings, and a few white feathers floated lightly and scattered among the branches.
Actually I was not at all hungry at the time. I just wanted to tell the person in front of me that if they hadn't ignorantly coveted my charm, they wouldn't have lost their lives. I have never forced anyone, whether human, bird or animal. Everything, all of it, was done by them willingly; how could anyone blame me?
But he put a stop to my silent rebuttal.
A drop of clear water sprang from his fingers and impartially hit the "hand" that had seized the bird's life.
A tingling sensation spread through every leaf vein of my body.
I had no choice but to loosen my "hand."
The bird fluttered away into the sky, becoming the first prey lucky enough to escape alive.
"Naughty and unruly little demon," he withdrew his gaze from where the bird had flown and walked slowly towards me. The night wind stirred his moon-white robe, and the satin ribbon hanging from his waist danced in the breeze, brushing against my face, causing an unexpected itch.
"The wronged souls are endless. It's only a matter of time before one sues you and you're caught by the Underworld."
Brushing aside a strand of long dark hair blown into his eyes, he "reminded" me.
Catch me? Does he really think I'm ignorant and inexperienced?!
Over the years, I've heard countless laments. I know full well that the souls of those who died unjustly in the world are hundreds of times more than those "wronged souls" buried on Mount Fulong. How many can the Underworld really care about?!
I need food, and I also need the worship of humans.
Without food, my stomach is empty; without worship, my heart is empty.
How can a carefree immortal like him who could come and go as he pleases understand the thoughts of a tree demon?
Yes, he was an immortal, untouched by the world, high and mighty.
From the moment he approached, I knew his unique identity.
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