The young girl wore a tricolored outfit, embroidered cloth shoes, and a bamboo hat. Her features were delicate and serious. The fabric of her clothes was soft, with loose sleeves. When she held the fishing rod, the sleeves naturally slipped down, revealing two forearms that were dazzlingly white under the sun, yet already tinged with red from being slightly sunburned. The fishing rod in her hand was only three to four feet long, made of segmented bamboo. Beside her, a shallow pit had been dug, now filled with fish. The old man wore the common clothing of local villagers, primarily blue and white, with much more blue, likely because it was a set meant for manual labor. A cloth was wrapped around his head, and he held a bamboo pole over a zhang long, casting his line far into the water. His face was dark, deeply lined, and furrowed with worry, adding to his weathered appearance. Beside him stood a wooden stick with a thin string tied to it, reminding Song You of old paintings where caught fish were strung together and carried on a pole across the shoulder. However, this string was completely empty. As Song You noticed the old fisherman, the old man noticed him in return. The old man let out a surprised grunt. It wasn’t clear whether he was startled by the fact that there really was a Daoist lying there napping, or simply surprised that the Daoist had woken up. “Greetings.” Still adjusting to the sunlight, Song You half-squinted as he offered a polite bow. “That’s the Daoist priest I was talking about, he was just napping over there in the grassy patch,” the little girl said as she turned her head briefly to introduce him to the fisherman. Then she added for Song You’s benefit, “I think he’s a fisherman too.” “Seems like it...” Song You smiled slightly, put his bamboo hat back on, and sat down by the lakeside, facing the sunlight. “Might I ask your name, elder?” “My surname’s Bai. Folks call me Bai Laosan.” “I’m Song You, a Daoist from Yizhou.” “This is your apprentice?” “She’s my little companion and also my travel partner,” Song You replied with a gentle smile. “Thanks to her following me across the land, I have company to stave off boredom, and she always finds ways to earn some coin to help fund our travels.” “This little one’s got a sharp mind!” “She certainly does.” Lady Calico sat nearby, and when others praised her sincerely, Song You had no right to feign modesty on her behalf, and he could only accept it. He then asked, “Elder Bai, was this your usual fishing spot?” “These past two years, I’ve been the only one coming here. But before that, there were quite a few who used to fish in this area. Some who owned boats would even sail over to cast nets here. But this lake doesn’t belong to anyone. Anyone who wants to fish here is free to do so,” the old man said, though as he watched his bobber float listlessly, he couldn’t help looking worried again. “Still, like I was saying earlier, it’s true that something strange’s been happening here. Some sort of demon or spirit. That’s why most folks are too scared to come. Guess you lot just ain’t afraid.” “Oh? What kind of demon or spirit might it be?” “The Headless Monk. Ever heard of him?” “We’ve just arrived in Xianning, so we haven’t heard of that one yet.” “No wonder you dared come here.” “Please enlighten us, Elder,” Song You asked respectfully. The little girl still sat at his side, holding the fishing rod, eyes fixed intently on the water’s surface. Her expression was serious and motionless, lips silently moving as she murmured incantations. The old man also held his fishing rod, but since he figured he wouldn’t catch anything anyway, he spoke in a low voice. “Don’t be frightened when you hear this. This Headless Monk has been around for many years, at least a few hundred. Back then, our region was still its own kingdom. The emperor was a devout Buddhist and had many pagodas and temples built, just outside the city, to the west of Xianning. “You can still see the three tall towers over there, and that monastery was very famous. In those days, when emperors grew old, they would retire and become monks there. A lot of eminent monks came from that place. “One of those monks was especially powerful. They said he was highly skilled in martial arts. While still alive, weapons couldn’t harm him, and he had incredible strength, so much so that he could crush boulders taller than a man with a single palm strike. He could subdue tigers and dragons, and didn’t even need magical tools to banish fierce demons and evil spirits. People believed he was an Arhat or Bodhisattva who had descended from heaven. Whether human or demon, all feared him. “But later, he violated the monastic code. Some say he offended the emperor. In any case, he was captured, sentenced, and beheaded. “Even after he was decapitated, the monk broke free of his shackles, ran around the city several times before finally collapsing. His body couldn’t be burned by fire. Even after he was buried, people said he often climbed out of his grave at night and wandered around. “Back then, the locals were terrified of him. Later on, no one knows exactly how he was subdued. I remember this tale was still being told when I was a child. Don’t know how many generations it’s been passed down. But back then, people just thought it was folklore, like stories of gods and immortals. No one really believed it. Only the children were scared, always worrying he’d be wandering outside their door at night, asking them whether his head was still on his shoulders.” The old fisherman seemed to recall his childhood. He couldn’t help but lean back and laugh, revealing a row of missing teeth. “But who would’ve guessed that in the past couple of years, people have seen him again around here. Since then, sightings have increased, and some nearby people were even killed by him. Some folks think he probably sleeps here in the reeds when the sun is strong, and once it’s dusk, or nighttime, or on cloudy and rainy days, he comes out to roam around. If he runs into someone, he’ll ask them whether his head is still on his body.” At that point, the little girl couldn’t help but glance back slightly, her bright, lively eyes full of clear curiosity. She asked, “Then... is his head still on his body?” “The Headless Monk is headless, of course his head is gone. The emperor chopped it off long ago.” “Then if he has no head, how does he talk?” “They say he speaks from his belly.” “Oh! I’ve seen someone do that too, talking from their belly without moving their mouth!” “Why aren’t you scared?” “I’m a Daoist priest. I’m not scared at all...” As the little girl said this, she sensed movement on her fishing rod. Immediately, she stopped paying attention to the conversation, turned back, and focused on reeling it in, only to pull up yet another large fish. The old fisherman watched in silence, unable to speak. It wasn’t until the Daoist beside him spoke that the quiet was broken. “Just now, Elder, you mentioned you had a way to deal with him, might I ask what that method is?” The fisherman finally tore his gaze away and said to the Daoist, “Back when I used to fish here, Master Wuwei from the Three Pagodas Monastery would often come here to study Buddhist scriptures. It’s quiet around here, and the scenery’s good. Sometimes, he’d talk with us fishermen and laborers, answer our questions, and even teach the younger folk to read and write. He’s the one who told us this. “After that Headless Monk appeared and killed a number of people by smashing them into pulp, Master Wuwei told us that if we ever encountered the Headless Monk, all we had to do was answer him. When he asks if his head is still on his shoulders, say yes. That way, he’ll be satisfied and won’t hurt you. The ones who died were those who didn’t know or answered ‘no.’” “Have you ever met him personally?” Song You asked. “I did once. And it was just like Master Wuwei said. Nowadays, pretty much everyone outside the city knows this. Even though folks are still afraid when they see the Headless Monk, as long as they answer ‘It’s still there,’ nothing happens to them. Most of the people who’ve died in the past year were outsiders passing through on rainy or overcast days, and they didn’t know. Still, there aren’t many who dare come here to fish anymore. Which is fine, it’s peaceful and quiet this way.” This time, the old man didn’t have the nerve to say “all the fish here are mine” again. Instead, he gave a word of warning, “If you ever meet that Headless Monk and he asks you about his head, you must answer that his head is still on his shoulders.” He paused, then glanced at the little girl. “But if someone’s too timid, they might be so scared they can’t even get the words out, and their legs turn to jelly. Those folks might get smashed into meat paste. That’s probably why even on sunny days, some people still don’t dare fish around here.” The implication was clear: If you're cowards, best not come here again and compete with me for fish. Maybe it was a kind warning. “My Lady Calico is skilled in the Daoist arts. If we encounter the Headless Monk, she’ll surely protect me.” “You both look like you know some spells,” the fisherman said. “But I’m guessing that back in the day, even the emperor invited countless masters to deal with that monk, and none succeeded. These past few years, plenty of experts have come, even high monks from the Three Pagodas Monastery near Xianning, not to mention the army, yet they still couldn’t subdue him. Shows just how powerful he is.” The old fisherman spoke honestly while holding his fishing rod. Lady Calico had already lifted her rod again; she had reeled in yet another small fish. While removing the fish, her eyes darted about mischievously as she fell deep into thought. Aside from summoning thunder, Yan An’s best skill is his Beheading Sword. It was especially good at chopping off heads. But that monster didn’t have a head... If Yan An told his little sword to cut off the monster’s head... The more she thought about it, the more amusing it seemed. “Last time, I heard a great master tried to eliminate the Headless Monk by luring him down the mountain,” the fisherman went on, voice slow and thoughtful. “Then they used magic to summon giant boulders bigger than a man from above and crush him. But not only did they fail to kill him, he smashed the rocks to pieces with his fists. Just one blow and they shattered. Anyone who underestimates him ends up crushed to death.” The little girl’s expression instantly tightened. She was no longer amused. Just moments ago, she’d been imagining how Yan An’s Beheading Sword could chop off the Headless Monk’s head, only to hear now that the monster could pulverize boulders bigger than a person with one punch. Then wouldn’t her Mountain God be... Boulder Legion, which gathered stones to form human figures, used spiritual power to bind the parts together, making the stone less prone to shattering and helping the figures walk without falling apart. However, it didn’t significantly increase the hardness of the stone; it merely made it less brittle. As for her own Boulder Transformation, up to now she could only turn an area about the size of the Mountain God’s belly into gold. “What about that eminent monk?” she asked. “What about Master Wuwei? Why didn’t he get rid of the Headless Monk or why hasn’t he come back here?” the old fisherman said. “Master Wuwei may be kindhearted and well-respected, but how could he possibly defeat the vicious and powerful Headless Monk? Even though he knew how to survive an encounter with him, he wasn’t willing to lie. So naturally, he stopped coming here.” “If you don’t want to run into that thing, best head back early.” “I just gave you a few words of warning, no need to be so formal.” The old man waved a hand dismissively, then lifted his fishing rod. He first checked that the bait on the hook was still intact, then cast the line again. This time, though, he didn’t use the full length of the rod to cast far out; instead, like the little girl, he dropped the line into the shallows near the shore and waited silently. Reality soon proved that it had nothing to do with distance. By the time dusk approached, he had only one fish. The single, small fish was given to him by his new fishing acquaintance. “It’s getting late! Just about time!” The old man slung the wooden stick over his shoulder. The string tied to it held a single, two-finger-wide fish. He stood up and glanced at the little girl and her sizable haul. He opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something, but couldn’t find the words. In the end, he only left her with this, “You little rascal, you don’t know a thing. This coastal sun’s vicious, so if you keep your arms out like that all afternoon, you’ll peel and blister for sure when you get home!” After the scolding, he seemed satisfied, as though it restored a sense of dignity and balanced out the sting of “an old man like me losing out to a little girl.” Content now, he turned and walked away. The tiny fish dangled and wobbled behind him, looking oddly comical. Lady Calico turned her head to watch him leave but said nothing. Once he had walked far enough, she looked up at the sky, then glanced at the nearly overflowing pit full of fish by her side. A surge of satisfaction welled up inside her. “It’s getting late. Just about time.” Content and pleased, Lady Calico packed up her rod and stood. She plucked a few broad leaves from the reeds nearby and used them to tie the biggest fish into a bent arch, stuffing them into the pouch at her side. Then she threaded the rest of the smaller fish together with a string, borrowed a wooden stick from a nearby bald cypress, and slung the whole string of fish over her shoulder just like the old fisherman had done. The stick wobbled on her shoulder as she walked back. It was a heavy, full string of fish.