Section Sixty-Two: The Mountain God and the Earth Dragon (Part Two)

Dongshan Pass is a gap among the central mountains, a shortcut connecting east and west. Without it, travelers would have to make a long detour. Convenient as it is, the path is treacherous—and guarded by a mountain spirit.

At the foot of the pass, Feng Xiaobao discovered a small shrine, dedicated to the mountain god. There was only a spirit tablet, no statue, yet worship was clearly flourishing. Of course, Feng Xiaobao was accompanied by his usual band of troublemakers: Cheng Boxi and Yang Chengxian came to see the spectacle, while Tang Tian and Tang Zhi Ling, bows in hand, wouldn't miss it for the world.

Joining them were two hunters and a crowd of curious onlookers. Every notable from the manor had been compelled to follow—Feng Xiaobao wanted them to witness who was truly the master here, not the so-called mountain god.

Even the old nanny was among the crowd, saying nothing, his face full of disdain, clearly awaiting Feng Xiaobao’s downfall.

They walked along the mountain path for some time, but saw no wild boar. Fortunately, Feng Xiaobao had a plan: Shi Jiulang sent for a pack of hunting dogs—fifty or sixty at once—scouring the hills. The gentlemen meanwhile enjoyed tea and scenery, laughing as if on a spring outing.

In less than half an hour, someone ran up breathlessly, reporting, “We’ve found the mountain—wild boar. It killed two of our dogs!”

“Let’s go!” Feng Xiaobao sprang up.

In a lush thicket beneath the woods, they found the boar—a monstrous black beast, as tall as a man, with huge jaws and tusks, eyes blazing red, limbs thick as pillars, a creature straight from the pages of a fantasy. Its size was like a small hill, the greatest ever seen—a true king among wild boars, little wonder it was called the mountain god.

The hunting dogs confronted it fiercely, their barking hoarse and desperate, while people struggled to restrain them lest they throw themselves at the beast. Three dead dogs lay near the boar, and when they arrived, another perished.

Feng Xiaobao and his companions studied the Wild Boar King.

Five bows were drawn: Feng Xiaobao, Cheng Boxi, Yang Chengxian in the center, Tang Tian and Tang Zhi Ling on the flanks. Ahead crouched the manor’s guards, two rows of five, ten spears pointed at the boar in a formation reminiscent of an army bracing for cavalry.

Everyone else, including the dogs, retreated to safer ground.

“You count to three; we’ll loose the arrows!” Feng Xiaobao instructed one of the hunters. “Everyone, get ready!”

“One, two, three—shoot!”

Three arrows whistled forth, striking their marks, but their force proved futile—they bounced off! Not a single arrow pierced flesh; all fell to the ground.

Only Feng Xiaobao, Cheng Boxi, and Yang Chengxian had fired; Tang Tian and Tang Zhi Ling held back.

The boar, enraged by the arrows, charged at them, hooves pounding, smoke rising from its rear. The ground shook, even the arrowheads trembled.

Its mass was immense—four or five hundred pounds, perhaps. If it struck a human, they’d be flattened.

The trio fired again, bows powerful enough to pierce earth walls and armor, but again to no effect—the Wild Boar King was impervious. One hoped it was not invincible.

Seeing this, Feng Xiaobao’s group stopped wasting arrows and readied their weapons: Feng Xiaobao with an iron rod for the boar’s legs, Yang Chengxian with a spear, Cheng Boxi with an axe.

As the Wild Boar King drew closer, its ferocious visage became clear. Several of the spearmen trembled, having seen its imperviousness before and fearing their spears were useless against it. Running wasn’t an option—abandoning their lord was a capital offense, risking not only their lives but their families’. All they could do was pray for luck.

The boar charged closer. Without a signal, two arrows flew from their bows.

Perfect shots!

Each arrow struck one of the boar’s eyes—neither missed!

Feng Xiaobao had learned three kinds of archery: stationary shooter and target—easiest; stationary shooter, moving target—moderate, requiring anticipation; moving shooter and moving target—most difficult, highly complex.

Tang Tian and Tang Zhi Ling, shooting at a moving boar, faced a moderate challenge, but hitting the small eyes was as hard as the most difficult scenario.

Blinded, the boar went berserk, its speed increasing by thirty percent. No one dared move or speak, watching as it thundered toward them.

It ran, veering off course, passing to the left of the spearmen and Feng Xiaobao’s group, then slammed into a tree as thick as a bowl, toppling it.

Then it rampaged, smashing through earth and stone, trees falling and dust flying—a frenzy.

Feng Xiaobao signaled, and everyone quietly retreated to a higher platform. Now blind, the Wild Boar King could no longer find its way to them, and the crowd burst into laughter, hats tossed in celebration.

“So this is the mountain god?” Feng Xiaobao mocked. “Set out the wine, prepare lunch, let’s drink our fill!”

“Shouldn’t we wait and eat pork?” Cheng Boxi asked with a foolish grin.

“We’re heading back; you can wait here as long as you like!” Feng and Yang replied in unison.

The crowd watched as their ‘mountain god’ raged on the ground, feeling uneasy. Some secretly hoped it would bring disaster to those who disrespected it, but as minute after minute passed, the Wild Boar King gradually lost strength, staggering as it walked, while those who wounded it remained unscathed.

At last, the Wild Boar King collapsed with a thud, gasping for air.

People threw stones; it leapt up and dashed about. When it lay down to rest, they threw stones again, provoking another wild charge. After several rounds, it could no longer move.

A few hunters and brave youths tied its limbs to a sturdy pole with hemp rope—victory!

Once revered as the mountain god, the Wild Boar King was no longer glorious. After it was brought back, its belly was split open. Its meat was coarse; Feng Xiaobao and his friends tasted only a little, but the tenant farmers each received a share, feasting heartily with no further talk of mountain spirits.

Seizing the momentum, with the crowd assembled, Feng Xiaobao loudly declared, “Tomorrow we begin work! We’ll dig the canal through Dongshan Pass and level the road!”

He would not indulge in superstition, forcefully pushing the project. The old nanny, Jian Sanlang, cried out, “Absolutely not! You’ll anger the earth dragon!”

“The mountain god is dealt with; what’s an earth dragon? It’ll work for me!” Feng Xiaobao retorted, unconcerned.