Taotie’s Mask
John dashed ten meters away from the trap in a single leap. At that moment, a deafening roar echoed from the pit below. A thick red mist surged out of the hole, and a crimson figure burst into the air.
His eyes met the scarlet gaze of the Crimson Bear—and in that instant, John knew the beast had gone berserk.
He recalled from his knowledge of the cultivation world that a berserk beast sacrificed its own life force for a temporary but explosive surge in power. If he couldn't kill it quickly, he would die.
John was already exhausted and nearly out of qi. He didn't have the luxury of dragging the fight out. Pushing all other thoughts to the back of his mind, he and the bear charged at each other.
The bear lunged with its jaws wide open. John raised his sword and slashed downward at its head. This time, however, he followed the flow of the sword technique, redirecting the bear's charging force into the ground—leaving a scar across the beast's face.
"ROAR!"
Ignoring the injury, the bear swiped its massive paw at John. He blocked with his sword, but had underestimated the creature's brute strength. The impact flung him across the clearing and slammed him into a nearby tree. He coughed up blood.
As he struggled to catch his breath, a primal sense of danger crawled up his spine. With a groan, he rolled away from the tree just in time. Thanks to its pierced leg from the trap, the bear's speed had slowed—just enough for John to escape death again.
"Damn it," he muttered through gritted teeth.
John staggered to his feet, cursed aloud, and charged the bear, targeting its injured leg. His blade cut a deep groove into the limb, nearly severing it.
The bear howled in agony—and then, to John's surprise, it turned and fled into the forest.
John didn't give chase. He waited to make sure it was safe, then collapsed to the ground and began circulating his qi to stop the bleeding and replenish what little energy he had left. After an hour, he had restored a quarter of his reserves.
Partially recovered, he scouted for blood trails and soon found one. It led to a nearby cave. Sword drawn, John approached cautiously. Just as he expected, the Crimson Bear was there—weak and barely clinging to life.
He knew low-rank demon beasts that went berserk usually didn't survive long afterward.
Approaching slowly, John stood beside the dying beast. Without hesitation, he slashed its throat. The bear died without opening its eyes.
With the danger finally passed, John collapsed to the ground. Exhaustion hit him like a boulder. He didn't resist—he fell asleep immediately.
---
John woke hours later with his whole body aching. As he tried to sit up, he felt something wet on his hand. Looking down, he saw the cave floor soaked in blood—most of it from the now-dead bear.
Dragging himself to his feet, he approached the corpse. He unsheathed his sword and hastily skinned the beast before other predators could be drawn by the scent. Unbeknownst to him, this part of the mountain was the bear's territory—no other demon beast dared live nearby.
After removing the pelt, John extracted the canines and checked for a beast core, but found none. The meat, already decaying from the berserk state, was inedible. Shaking his head, he left the rest and made his way back to his camp near a water source.
Five hours of slow walking and resting brought him to his campsite. After checking for danger, he retrieved clean clothes and headed to the stream to wash up and clean the pelt.
Stripping off his blood-soaked, torn clothes, he bathed in the cold water and scrubbed the crimson fur clean. Then he changed into fresh clothes and burned the old ones.
Returning to camp, he applied ointment to his wounds and bandaged the deeper cuts with cloth. Once finished, he made a fire, set the pelt near it to dry, and cooked himself a meal. He devoured the food like a starving beggar, then collapsed into bed and fell into a deep sleep.
---
John spent the next two days recovering and restoring his qi to full capacity. Once he packed his belongings, including the dried bear pelt, he stopped, thinking for a moment. Then he hid most of his items inside the cave, taking only a small cloth bag.
He headed back into the mountains and returned two hours later with a bag full of common medicinal herbs and some substitutes for cooking spices.
Retrieving his hidden pack, John set off toward Zara Village—a half-day walk from his location. On the way, he checked the traps he'd set earlier. Most were empty, but two had caught wild rabbits.
He arrived at the village gate just before sunset. Not seeing Old Man Lee on duty and unfamiliar with the guard on shift, he quietly slipped away to his courtyard.
The first thing he saw was a note pinned to his door—left by none other than his landlord, Ralf Otto.
John opened it and, to his surprise, found the handwriting above average. The message stated that if he didn't pay rent within two days, he'd be blacklisted from the land.
"Sigh."
John shook his head and went inside.
---
He started a fire and took out the substitute spices. One rabbit he roasted; the other he made into a soup for the next morning. As he cooked, the delicious aroma wafted from his courtyard.
Once the food was ready, he sat down and ate heartily. For the first time in days, he tasted good food. With a satisfied nod, he washed the dishes and, seeing it was getting late, meditated for a few hours before going to sleep.
---
The next morning, John opened the courtyard door, broom in hand, and swept away the dust and leaves that had gathered in his absence. After finishing his chores, he washed up, wrapped the bear pelt in cloth, and headed toward his destination—the Bamboo Bazaar.
The branch in Zara Village was run by a local family connected to the nearest city.
John walked leisurely toward the shop, greeting a few familiar faces along the way. Before reaching the Bazaar, he spotted another shop that sold masks for traditional costumes.
Something drew him there.
After browsing through the selection, he found one that resembled a mythical creature from his past life—a Taotie. He bought the mask and put it on.
A strange sensation passed through him, but it faded quickly. Dismissing it, he walked toward the Bamboo Bazaar once more.
What he didn't know was that the sensation came from his latent talent—Karmic Instinct.
---
As John entered the shop, a receptionist approached. He paused for a split second when he saw the mask, then quickly composed himself and smiled.
"Sir, how may I assist you?"
"Do you buy demon beast fur?" John asked.
"Of course. Do you wish to sell?"
"Yes."
"May I take a look to appraise it fairly?"
John nodded silently, not wanting to give away his identity. He placed the cloth bag on the table and unwrapped it, revealing the fiery crimson pelt.
The receptionist's eyes lit up. She gently touched the fur, inspecting it carefully.
"Though slightly damaged, this is still the pelt of a low-rank demon beast. It's quite valuable," she said with a small smile. "How much are you looking to sell it for?"
"Twenty-five spirit stones," John replied firmly.
"That's a little above market price. How about twenty?"
Not wanting to waste time haggling, John nodded in agreement.