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墨書 Inktalez
Human Sacrifice
My name is Wang Yang.
I was born in a place in northern Jiangsu, an ancient village called Wang Family Village.
Until I turned six, Wang Family Village was peaceful and tranquil, or at least it appeared that way on the surface.
However, when I was six, a group of people suddenly arrived in the village. From that moment on, Wang Family Village never experienced a moment of peace again; bizarre events began to unfold one after another.
The source of these strange occurrences was an ancient tree, a towering Phoenix Tree that cast a shadow over the village.
This Phoenix Tree stood at the entrance of Wang Family Village, its trunk thick and tall, requiring four or five strong men to encircle it. Its branches reached out like claws into the sky, casting a massive and mottled shadow over Wang Family Village both day and night, instilling fear in those who beheld it.
No one knew how long this Phoenix Tree had lived; all I knew was that my grandfather had told me stories about it when he was my age.
Over a hundred years ago, under the orders of Empress Dowager Cixi, extraordinary individuals were sent to hunt a phoenix for her fur coat. It was said that wearing this phoenix coat would grant one eternal youth and rebirth.
Some advised against it, warning that only one phoenix remained in the world. The phoenix was a divine bird capable of suppressing evil spirits and ensuring peace; killing it would lead to a surge of Evil Energy and chaos.
As Empress Dowager Cixi grew older and frailer, her son and ministers took advantage of her declining eyesight to plot against her for power. With a golden coffin and jade bed already prepared in her mausoleum, she became increasingly anxious; she did not want to die. She secretly captured hundreds of disciples from various sects of Taoist priests as leverage, forcing them to search for the phoenix's whereabouts.
After a year of arduous travel using Crane techniques to locate its lair, they finally discovered traces of the phoenix in a mountain valley at the southern foot of Kunlun Mountain.
The phoenix, being a divine bird with spirit, attacked when it sensed the Taoist priests intruding on its territory. Hundreds of priests formed a formation to strike down the phoenix, wounding it severely as it fled. They used Taoist spirit-seeking techniques to relentlessly pursue the injured creature.
The phoenix fled southward and after seven nights of exhausting flight, it landed on what appeared to be an ancient Phoenix Tree—our village's Phoenix Tree. The phoenix broke off several branches from the tree and built a nest beneath itself, spitting out several fiery Light Spheres. Soon after, smoke began to rise from the tree as flames flickered.
But just then, dark clouds suddenly gathered overhead, unleashing a torrential downpour that extinguished the flames on the Phoenix Tree. Before long, the group of Taoist priests pursuing the phoenix arrived and surrounded the gravely injured creature.
The Phoenix, unable to escape, let out a piercing and mournful cry into the sky. A few Taoists sensed something was amiss and tried to intervene, but it was already too late. A bolt of lightning struck the Phoenix, and when everyone looked up again, there was no trace of the bird left on the tree, only a patch of flames that had burned almost completely away.
The Phoenix had forcibly summoned its own calamity and committed suicide.
After the Phoenix's death, no feathers were left behind. Empress Dowager Cixi was furious, convinced she had been deceived. She ordered the execution of those Taoists who had returned to report and their entire sect.
Among those Taoists who did not return to the capital for pilgrimage, one person remained for reasons unknown. He built a Taoist temple on the mountain behind our village, naming it Taiyin Temple.
The current master of Taiyin Temple is the son of the man who built it back then, who later became my mentor; this part will be set aside for now.
As the tale of the Phoenix spread, many began to refer to Wang Family Village as Falling Phoenix Village.
From that time onward, the village began to suffer from drought year after year, with little rain. The once flourishing water town transformed into a parched land. The nearby rivers and Bai Shi Mountain spring dwindled over a century, leaving the villagers reliant on an old well not far from the Phoenix Tree.
I do not know whether the tales of the Phoenix and the tree are true or false; I only know that my grandfather never allowed me to play under the Phoenix Tree or even go near it.
During the Japanese invasion of China, a Japanese officer took a liking to this Phoenix Tree. He ordered his men to cut it down to make bed boards. The wood from the Phoenix Tree was not only flexible and lightweight but also emitted a fragrance that aided sleep. Especially for a tree over a hundred years old, its scent could cure ailments when inhaled for long periods.
However, due to its immense size, it required four or five men to embrace it fully. At that time, there were no tools capable of sawing through such a thick trunk. The Japanese officer commanded eight soldiers to chop down the tree with steel knives. Little did they know that something chilling would occur.
One soldier managed to break through the bark of the Phoenix Tree after much effort, only to find blood seeping from the wound. Though not much blood was present, its metallic scent shocked all eight soldiers—how could a Chinese tree bleed?
Among these soldiers was a cultural soldier who followed the officer and spoke Chinese. Upon witnessing such an eerie sight, he instructed others to stop chopping and asked villagers from Wang Family Village about the tree. After hearing that it was considered sacred, he returned to inform the officer.
The Japanese officer dismissed the cultural soldier's words with skepticism. He summoned all villagers from Wang Family Village, scoffing at what he deemed feudal superstitions. Having survived numerous battles with countless wounds on his body, he believed that a mere tree in a broken village could not possibly threaten him.
Thus, the officer personally took action, rolling up his sleeves and wielding a steel knife with determination as he began chopping at the tree. He carved out a palm-sized notch at its roots until blood flowed freely onto the ground, carrying with it a burnt odor. At this point, he looked up with a cold smirk; this so-called sacred tree was nothing special after all.
After the Japanese Officer finished speaking, blood began to pour from his eyes and nose. The group of Japanese Soldiers beside him experienced the same fate; their terrified screams were of no use. In almost an instant, they bled out and became dried corpses.
The villagers of Wang Family Village watched helplessly as these Japanese Soldiers met their gruesome end, and not a single person spoke up to intervene.
Later, another officer stationed at the Japanese military camp in town heard about the killings by the Phoenix Tree and came to investigate with a strangely dressed individual. This person wore a tall hat, had no eyebrows, and carried a bronze compass. After circling the Phoenix Tree twice, he suddenly collapsed in fear and crawled away at a speed faster than a rabbit.
Subsequently, the Japanese Officer and the frightened individual returned, both wearing Demon Masks. They bowed several times from a distance toward the Phoenix Tree and never returned again.
Later on, some villagers overheard two Japanese Soldiers speaking in Chinese, discussing that the man in the tall hat was their national master.
Since hearing this story from my grandfather, the Phoenix Tree became a shadow over me. In the days that followed, every time I passed by the village entrance after school, I would deliberately avoid that tree, not even daring to glance at it for fear that something might leap down from the shade of the Phoenix Tree to capture me.
The people in our village held both reverence and fear for the Old Wutong Tree. Some worshipped it as a deity, offering sacrifices beneath the Phoenix Tree during festivals, while others feared it like a ghost, wishing someone brave enough would chop down this terrifying old tree.
After the Great Leap Forward was implemented, several families who had contracted land became wealthy. That year, they moved to the county seat. One of them even told others while moving: "When driving the tractor later, don't pass by the village entrance; I'm afraid that tree will remember us."
This Old Wutong Tree had withstood hundreds of years of wind and rain and became a symbol of our village. When the Japanese came, no one dared to cut it down. During the Cultural Revolution, even the Red Guards who sought to destroy the Four Olds did not dare to harm it. However, with advancements in technology and education becoming widespread, when I was six years old, coinciding with rural land reforms and house demolitions, those who dared to cut it down finally arrived.
Disaster was about to strike.
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