Bmoow Bmoow: Prophecy

The village chief woke up in a cold sweat. His old bones creaked as he sat up, wiping his forehead. The air felt heavy. The sky outside his window was an unsettling shade of gray, and the distant mountains were shrouded in thick, curling mist.

It was that time of year again.

Cultivators were coming.

He groaned, rubbing his temples. Every year, without fail, a group of righteous sect disciples would descend upon their humble village, looking for young talents to recruit. Usually, they took one or two promising kids, said something mysterious about their "natural talent," and then left.

The chief had learned to deal with it. It was annoying, but manageable.

But this time… something felt different.

There was a black cloud hanging over the village. Not just any black cloud—this one swirled ominously, defying all natural weather patterns, circling above them like a predator waiting to pounce.

The village's only cow, Old Bessie, had started speaking backwards.

And worst of all… the chickens were silent.

Not a single crow. Not a single cluck. Nothing.

The chief shuddered. "This is bad."

At that moment, a loud crash echoed outside, followed by the unmistakable sound of Gu Fan's calm, poetic nonsense.

"The universe is but a fleeting illusion. Much like this fence, which no longer stands."

The chief sighed. He already knew what had happened.

He stepped outside to find Gu Fan, cigarette in hand, standing before what had once been a sturdy wooden fence. Now, it was a pile of shattered planks. Next to him, Ao Tian was dusting himself off, having clearly just been launched through said fence.

The chief pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't even want to ask."

Ao Tian cracked his knuckles. "Tch. The fence was talking behind my back."

Gu Fan exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "It dared to question your strength."

Ao Tian nodded, rolling his shoulders. "So, I punched it."

The chief stared at them. Then at the remains of the fence. Then back at them. He closed his eyes and muttered a quiet prayer for patience.

"You two… do you have any idea what's coming?" he asked, voice weary.

Gu Fan took a slow drag of his cigarette. "Change is ever-flowing, like the river of time."

Ao Tian crossed his arms. "If you're talking about the cultivators, let them come. If they try anything, I'll punch them, too."

The chief's soul nearly left his body. "NO. Do NOT punch the cultivators!"

Ao Tian scowled. "I'll do what I want."

Gu Fan nodded sagely. "He must follow his heart, Chief."

The chief groaned, gripping his chest like a man suffering a fatal blow. "Just… listen. This time, something's off. The sky's wrong. The animals are acting weird."

As if on cue, Old Bessie mooed from a distance.

".Bmoow bmow morf mih dellac I"

The chief flinched. "See?! That's not normal!"

Ao Tian tilted his head. "Huh. Maybe she's just trying out a new language."

Gu Fan flicked his cigarette, golden eyes contemplative. "Perhaps the secrets of the Dao can only be understood in reverse speech."

The chief wanted to scream. Instead, he took a deep breath. "I need you both to promise me something."

Ao Tian scoffed. "No."

The chief ignored him. "Promise me you won't cause problems when the cultivators arrive."

Gu Fan smiled slightly. "Chief… we have never once caused problems."

The chief visibly aged ten more years. He pulled a crumpled list from his sleeve and added another tally under "Regrets in Life."

At that moment, a cold wind swept through the village. A distant rumble of thunder echoed in the sky.

The chief swallowed hard. "They're coming."

From the horizon, dark silhouettes began to appear. They did not wear the clean white robes of righteous sect disciples. No, their robes were black and blood-red, swirling ominously in the wind. Their auras flickered with dark energy, and behind them, demonic beasts snarled and prowled.

The villagers, already paranoid from the day's unnatural omens, immediately panicked.

"D-Demonic cultivators!"

"The village is doomed!"

"I told you the black cloud was a sign!"

"Someone hold down Old Bessie before she starts speaking in tongues again!"

The chief took a shaky breath. "Oh no."

Gu Fan exhaled, watching the approaching figures with a faint smile.

Ao Tian cracked his knuckles. "Tch. Finally, something interesting."

Somewhere, a chicken let out an ominous cluck.

The village chief prayed to the heavens.

An old man, notorious for his paranoia, grabbed a sack of salt and began flinging it in every direction. "Begone, evil spirits! Return to the abyss!"

Unfortunately, his aim was questionable at best. A handful of salt smacked a passing villager right in the eyes.

"AAAGH! MY EYES! CURSE YOU, OLD MAN!"

"It's for your own good, boy!" the old man shouted, chucking another handful—this time hitting a chicken, which stared at him in utter disdain before letting out a slow, ominous "Bawk."

Elsewhere, a group of villagers had gathered around an altar hastily assembled from firewood and a stolen stool. They piled offerings onto it—carrots, turnips, a particularly shriveled radish.

"Oh great heavens, please accept our humble sacrifices!" one man cried, dramatically raising a potato to the sky.

Another villager sniffled. "We wanted to use meat, but the economy's rough right now."

Their desperate prayers were interrupted by a frantic voice. "It's happening! The prophecy is upon us!"

Heads whipped around to see a wide-eyed man sprinting through the village, arms flailing. "Old Bessie has spoken the words of fate! She has foretold our doom!"

A young boy looked up, terrified. "What did she say?"

The man took a deep breath, eyes filled with the weight of revelation. "She said… eloh morf mih dellac I."

A horrified silence fell over the crowd.

"…What does it mean?" someone whispered.

The man's eyes darted around wildly. "I—I don't know! But it sounds important!"

Another villager gasped. "Wait! What if… what if it's a warning from the heavens?"

"Or an ancient spell?"

"Or—gasp—the name of our savior?!"

Old Bessie took a deep breath. The villagers held theirs.

And then—

"Bmoow bmow."

A beat of silence.

Then—absolute hysteria.

"OH NO! SHE'S SUMMONING THE DEMON LORD!" an old man shrieked, immediately trying to sacrifice his shoe to the heavens.

"Nonsense! This is clearly a sacred chant!" the village priest bellowed. "QUICK! EVERYONE, REPEAT AFTER HER!"

A dozen villagers clasped their hands together and, with religious fervor, chanted back—"Bmoow bmoow!"

Meanwhile, a panicked farmer grabbed a wooden spoon. "SHE'S BROKEN! SOMEONE SLAP THE COW TO RESET HER!"

The village chief barely stopped him in time. "YOU CAN'T JUST SLAP A SACRED COW!"

"THEN WHAT DO WE DO?!"

The villagers were already in chaos when Gu Fan and Ao Tian arrived, drawn by the unmistakable sound of hysterical chanting.

"Bmoow bmoow! Bmoow bmoow!" a dozen villagers cried, clasping their hands together as they swayed in religious fervor.

One man was on his knees, feverishly painting 'Eloh Bmoow bmoow morf mih dellac I' onto a massive banner. Another was carving the words into a wooden tablet, as if documenting scripture. Someone else had sacrificed a perfectly good turnip at the makeshift altar.

Gu Fan, cigarette in hand, watched the madness unfold with mild amusement. He took a slow drag and murmured, "Perhaps this is the language of the gods, spoken only once every thousand years. If we fail to understand, we may miss our destiny."

The villagers screamed in realization.

"The enlightened one has confirmed it!" someone shouted. "The cow speaks the language of the heavens!"

"Then we must decipher its meaning!" another gasped, gripping Gu Fan's robe. "What does it mean, great sage?!"

Gu Fan nodded sagely. "It is a test of enlightenment. Only those who comprehend its meaning shall ascend beyond mortal constraints."

The villagers collectively lost their minds.

Some dropped to their knees, furiously contemplating the divine utterance. Others grabbed nearby chickens, shaking them. "SPEAK! WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!"

Meanwhile, Ao Tian scowled at the commotion. "Tch. If this actually summons something, I'm punching it first."

The villagers gasped.

"The Chosen Warrior!" one shrieked. "He has come to strike down the unholy forces!"

A desperate farmer clutched the village chief. "Chief! Should we prepare for battle?"

"You should prepare to SHUT UP!" the chief barked, but no one was listening.

One villager, convinced the world was ending, started digging a hole. Ao Tian raised an eyebrow. "Hey, if you're making a grave, make it bigger. I might throw a cultivator in there later."

Silence.

Then—instant hysteria.

"THE PROPHECY FORETELLS A SACRIFICIAL BATTLE!"

"WE MUST PREPARE FOR THE GREAT BMOOW BMOOW WAR!"

"BUILD THE SHRINE! GATHER THE CHICKENS!"

Gu Fan exhaled, watching as a group of men frantically tied prayer scrolls to Old Bessie's horns while others tried to construct a shrine out of stolen furniture.

He took another drag of his cigarette and sighed. "Perhaps," he mused, "this is simply the way of the Dao."

Ao Tian cracked his knuckles. "Tch. Whatever. Just don't blame me when I punch something important."

At that moment, Old Bessie, the supposed prophetess of doom, blinked her large, unbothered eyes at the insanity before her.

Then, in a voice filled with eerie finality—

"Bmoow bmoow."

The villagers screamed.