The Little Monster

It was a tool commonly used in beast-taming—how could it appear here? Then, He Lingchuan saw a bizarre creature appear atop the courtyard wall. It looked like a mix of badger, flying squirrel, and sea otter. Sized like a domestic cat, it was hairless, its grayish skin speckled with dark dots that blended closely into the surroundings, though covered in thick folds of wrinkles. Its eyes were beady, glinting red, and suddenly locked directly with He Lingchuan's. The chill and malice in those tiny eyes gave him a jolt, and his right hand instinctively reached for his blade. The little monster tilted its head, turning to face He Lingchuan head-on. Just then, a dark-brown silhouette swooped down from the sky, catching the squirrel-like monster off guard and pouncing on it with lightning speed. Its speed was faster, if anything, than an arrow loosed from a bowstring. The two tangled together and tumbled off the wall. They landed in Sun Fuling's courtyard. He Lingchuan vaulted out the window and hopped onto the wall to watch. The figure swooping from the sky turned out to be the sparrowhawk. He Lingchuan had crossed paths with it several times and had even coordinated with it at the burrow spider nest; they were old acquaintances, down to him knowing exactly how many spots marked its tail feathers. The sparrowhawk screeched as it fought, slashing with talons and pecking with its beak. Anyone with poorer eyesight would have seen only two blurred shadows crashing together, feathers flying everywhere. Yet He Lingchuan saw clearly: the sparrowhawk was at a disadvantage! With the force of its midair dive and strike, even a genuine weasel demon would have been clawed to death. Yet this little monster acted as if nothing had happened, seemingly not even scratched, and snapped back to bite the sparrowhawk. Its movements were far nimbler than a weasel demon's, focusing its attacks on the hawk's feet and neck. The sparrowhawk dodged twice, but took a deep bite to the leg nonetheless; He Lingchuan could see blood spurting out. The little monster lunged for its throat next. The sparrowhawk blocked with a wing, only for the wing to be violently mauled and shredded, feathers fluttering everywhere. In the blink of an eye, the sparrowhawk was in mortal peril. It, too, was a soldier of Panlong City. He Lingchuan would not sit idly by; grabbing snow and ice from the wall, he packed them into balls and hurled them. The little monster was startled, turning its head to find flashes of dazzling white bursting in front of its eyes. Its small size worked against it; every snowball blocked its vision. He Lingchuan leaped down to the ground, batted the sparrowhawk out of harm's way with the flat of his blade, drew a dagger with his left hand, and thrust it straight at the little monster. Who would have guessed the thing was outrageously nimble? It darted like a gust of wind, clambering and scurrying all over He Lingchuan. From its perspective, a hulking human was laughably clumsy. With several metallic clinks, He Lingchuan managed to deflect its strikes toward his vitals. His diligent practice of the Returning Swallow footwork had borne modest fruit, but most importantly, he had experience: little demons with maxed-out agility often had relatively weak raw attack power, so they prioritized targeting their opponent's throat, eyes, heart, and other fatal spots. At the same time, he seized the chance to stuff something into his mouth, chewing vigorously. Having missed several times, the little monster made clicking sounds again. Only then did He Lingchuan realize the noise came from it gnashing its teeth in fury. Then it switched tactics and went for his belly. He Lingchuan was wearing light armor, but its incisors were sharper than a rat's, puncturing right through the leather in a few snaps. Then its body shrank abruptly to the size of a mouse, curling up to burrow straight into the breach! He Lingchuan took a massive fright, for a sharp agony instantly flared across his abdomen— This thing meant to bore a hole straight through his belly, crawl inside, and devour his internal organs! Judging by the speed at which it had chewed through the leather armor, piercing his stomach and intestines would take only a few breaths. He Lingchuan did not fear death in the dream, but dying like this was out of the question—it was far too humiliating. In a flash, only the monster's bare tail tip remained outside. Without time to think, He Lingchuan grabbed it and hauled backward. Snap! The monster's tail broke off. The creature could actually sever its tail to survive in a crisis, just like a gecko. However, it had been dragged out a short distance after all. Quick of eye and hand, He Lingchuan spat out the chewed substance, slapped it right onto the little monster, and batted it away with a palm strike. Sending it away from his body was the right call, lest it bore a hole somewhere else. He had struck with considerable force, but the little monster rolled twice upon hitting the ground, completely unharmed, and scrambled back up to press the attack. Yet after only a few steps, it sensed something was wrong: Its limbs and belly were stuck together, severely hindering its movements. It looked down to find its body glued by a large wad of milky-white, gelatinous goo. It raised a paw to push it away, only for the paw to stick fast, unable to pull free. Driven into a frenzy, the little monster gnawed frantically at the gooey white clump. Yet it was utterly useless; it only trapped its own mouth, leaving its jaws clamped shut. Within a dozen-odd breaths, it fell to the ground unable to rise, smothered head to toe in milky-white goo. The harder it struggled, the more hopeless it became. The sparrowhawk, resting nearby, asked, "What is this?" "Some kind of demon?" He Lingchuan wasn't quite sure; the thing was far too hideous. "What did you use?" "Birdlime." He Lingchuan smiled at it. "..." As a bird itself, the sparrowhawk drew its neck in. "Don't look down on it just because it's modest. It works reliably for catching wild boars, mountain deer, and small demons—as long as it doesn't get wet." Willow had taught him this trick, and it was extraordinarily handy for catching game out in the wild. Hunters supposedly used a certain tree sap as a base to blend potent birdlime, which stayed solid for easy carrying and only melted and became active when heated. That was why it had to be chewed before use. Nor was there any fear of it sticking to the inside of the mouth, as moisture caused it to lose its stickiness. Yet the little monster on the ground seemed to understand human speech. Hearing the words "get wet," it dragged the gum and began rolling in the snow. The glue feared water, and melted snow was water, wasn't it? Startled, He Lingchuan hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a woven straw basket, scooped it up, and trapped it inside. The monster bared its teeth at him, but unfortunately could not budge. Up close, He Lingchuan caught a salty, fishy, damp stench from it, somewhat like an ocean breeze, yet also like... Some sort of secretion? He drew his dagger and sliced across the monster. Its skin looked thin, but to his surprise, the stroke failed to break it. The dagger glanced off as though sliding across pliable oxhide. This seemed somewhat familiar. Frowning, He Lingchuan gripped the dagger and thrust with greater force. Still nothing. The monster's skin dimpled into a small dent under the point, but stubbornly refused to pierce. "Interesting." This time, he drew Fusheng. "Squeee-squeee-squeee!" The little monster shrieked in pain as a bloody gash was cut across its back, pale-green blood trickling out. "Sure enough, you're a wanted criminal too." Indeed, Fusheng did not disappoint him. Having captured this thing, He Lingchuan felt worry rather than joy. Who knew how many such monsters were lurking across Panlong City? They were either extraordinarily strong or exceptionally fast—possessing immense destructive power and invulnerability to blade and spear. How were ordinary soldiers and civilians supposed to deal with them? Moreover, he knew this thing ate people. As he was examining the monster, hurried footsteps sounded outside, heading in this direction. He Lingchuan opened the courtyard gate just as a patrol guard rushed over, looking left and right. "Looking for something?" He Lingchuan flashed his patrol badge. "We received a distress signal just now," the man said anxiously. "It seems a monster has been sighted here." Only then did He Lingchuan bring the straw basket out from behind him. "This is the culprit." When the guard saw the creature in the basket, he jumped in surprise. "Yes, it must be one of these wretched things! I heard sounds of fighting—anyone injured?" "Yes." He Lingchuan glanced back. The sparrowhawk was perched on the back of a chair in Sun Fuling's courtyard, resting with its eyes closed. The patrol guard spotted it too. "Let me take it back for treatment." Hearing this, the sparrowhawk flapped its wings and flew crookedly up to the roof. "..." "Never mind, I'll take care of it." He Lingchuan stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him. The guard blinked, taken aback. "Where are you heading?" "Taking this thing to turn in for military merits." He Lingchuan gave the straw basket a shake. "The higher-ups seem to be at their wit's end trying to catch them." So the merit reward should be rather generous, right? The guard offered, "I'm heading back to report in anyway. I can drop it off for you." "How could I trouble you with that?" He Lingchuan hesitated. "You'd submit the merit for me?" "No problem." The guard produced his tally, which bore his name. "Just tell me your name and roster number." Because military rosters were compiled into books, every individual had an index number to facilitate lookup. Once He Lingchuan gave his details, he handed over the straw basket. "Much obliged, then." "Don't mention it." The patrol guard nodded, took the basket, and walked away. He Lingchuan watched his figure disappear around the street corner, feeling as if he had overlooked something, yet unable to put his finger on what it was. Just then, a flapping sound came from behind. He looked back to see the sparrowhawk attempting to fly down from the roof, only to crash halfway. Fortunately, the snow on the ground was thick. He walked over, scooped it up, hopped back into his own courtyard in two bounds, and went inside to treat its wounds. Though the monster was small with a tiny mouth, a large chunk of flesh had been torn from the sparrowhawk's leg, and the wing it had used to shield its throat was battered and shredded, missing several flight feathers and badly fractured—evident proof of the monster's tremendous ferocity. "With injuries like these, you can forget about flying for two months," He Lingchuan muttered, scratching his head. "Let's set your wing first. Once it's immobilized, don't move around. I'll still need to get some medicine from A'luo for you." A few months ago he had been a novice staring blankly at bandages, but now he could be considered half a master at treating sprains, cuts, and fractures. A long illness makes a good physician—the old saying truly did not lie. As He Lingchuan tended to it, he asked, "How did you end up chasing that thing?" "Lately, these monsters have been running rampant, claiming over a dozen lives and putting Panlong City on edge. Aside from the patrols, the city issued wanted notices," the sparrowhawk replied dispiritedly. "Since I fly high and see far, I was assigned to high-altitude reconnaissance." He Lingchuan understood the citizens' mindset. Panlong City had always been branded with 'safety' and 'efficiency,' a benchmark of municipal governance. With so many civilians suddenly dying and the culprits repeatedly eluding capture, public grievance was inevitable, and the pressure on the authorities was immense. "How many of them have been caught so far?" "Counting the one today, five."