I’m a pig. From the moment I was born, it seemed my life was destined to be spent in a pigsty.
Those were the most comfortable yet terrifying days.
In short, I woke up, ate, slept, woke up, ate again, slept again… Oh, no, actually, I was never full.
The master’s family wasn’t well-off, so the food they gave us was limited. It wasn’t enough to fill our bellies, just enough to barely survive.
I remember my mother was killed on a festive day. The master’s house was especially lively, and my mother’s cries were filled with terror.
Later, she was butchered. I saw with my own eyes her body cut into pieces and sold to different two-legged monsters. I later learned these two-legged monsters were called “humans.”
From then on, my heart was gripped with fear, terrified that I’d end up like my mother.
So, I decided to be a different kind of pig. I gradually slept less and started humming along to the reading sounds from the master’s house.
I didn’t know it was called reading. I just thought that by mimicking those humans, I might one day escape the filthy, stinking pigsty and walk freely like the people outside.
Oh, right, I don’t know who my father was. Maybe he was sold off long ago.
Day after day, I imitated the humans. One day, I felt I was different from the other greedy, sleeping pigs around me. That’s when a little boy entered my sight. He watched me, as if he noticed something special about me.
From then on, every day after the reading sounds stopped, that boy would come to the pigsty, read with me, and even teach me to write.
I tried hard to mimic him, using my hooves to scratch words in the dirt.
Those were the happiest days of my life. I looked forward to the reading sounds ending early so the boy could come sooner.
During those days, I vaguely felt I was living like a human.
But after a long time—how long, I don’t know—another festive day came.
That day, several of my siblings were dragged out of the pigsty with hooks. Their familiar squeals made my whole body tremble. I overheard the butcher say there weren’t enough pots, so they’d kill the last one tomorrow.
I knew he meant me.
That day, I was so scared I forgot to listen to the reading sounds.
After they stopped, the boy came again. He said to me, “Mr. Pig, you’re my friend. I won’t let you die. I’m setting you free now. Run, keep running out of this town to the big mountains in the west. No one will hurt you there!”
I nodded, half-understanding, and he set me free.
I clearly remember the boy’s face full of smiles. Following his words, I ran west, out of the town, deep into the forest, into the mountains, and gained my freedom.
But for the next six months, I was chased and bitten by wild beasts, living in constant fear of being eaten.
Until one day, I found a cave, ate a fruit inside, and transformed into a demon, becoming a monster who could speak human words.
From then on, my thoughts were no longer muddled; they grew clearer and more independent.
Later, I had some fortunate encounters and learned to harness moonlight to grow stronger. Gradually, I became the overlord of that area. Even tigers and black bears trembled in fear at the sight of me.
It wasn’t until I became what I am now that I realized I’d truly become human-like.
I don’t know how long I spent in the mountains, but I knew all this was thanks to that little boy. So, I should live up to what the master said at home: be a person who repays kindness.
So, under the cover of night, I returned to that “home,” only to learn it was a private school, a place for children to study.
But I waited for days and never saw the boy.
Later, I stole a black robe to cover myself so no one would recognize me. I asked around about the boy’s whereabouts.
I learned he was from a poor family, and studying was already a struggle. After secretly freeing a pig from the schoolmaster’s house, he was beaten savagely by the furious schoolmaster and hung from the school’s rafters for a whole night.
Later, the schoolmaster let him down and expelled him, forbidding him from studying again.
At this point, Mr. Pig paused. Mo Fan, engrossed in the story, quickly asked, “What happened next? What became of the boy?”
“He died. His injuries were too severe, and he died on the way home!”
Mr. Pig gritted his teeth, his eyes reddening with hatred, “So I set fire to the school and took the schoolmaster. I asked him why his actions didn’t match the lessons he taught.”
“I heard him tell the children that the most important thing is to have a kind heart. If your heart isn’t upright, you’re no different from a mountain demon.”
“But what did he do?”
“He killed a child! His own student!!”
“Yet his answer showed no remorse. He thought it was only natural. Because the boy freed his pig, he deserved punishment. As for why the boy died, that had nothing to do with him.”
“Alas!”
Mo Fan sighed, already guessing the rest of the story.
The poor pig demon was likely broken by the complexities of human nature.
As Mo Fan suspected, the schoolmaster died, skinned and devoured alive by the enraged Mr. Pig.
Because the incident was so shocking and witnessed by the townsfolk, it drew powerful demon hunters. After several pursuits, Mr. Pig was captured and sold to the Spirit Beast Court in this market.
Mr. Pig’s story left Mo Fan sighing, but he was also amazed at the pig’s comprehension. If he wasn’t mistaken, Mr. Pig had gained sentience from the daily reading at the school, which led him to mimic human reading and writing.
The name “Mr. Pig” likely came from the boy’s mouth.
To Mr. Pig, the boy was immensely important, but wasn’t it the same for the boy?
This bond between a pig and a human reminded Mo Fan of the young cultivator Yan Mo and his fox, Yunshang, who seemed to share a similar connection.
“Sir, your cultivation is higher than mine, and your knowledge must be greater. Tell me, did I do wrong?”
Mr. Pig was bewildered, muttering, “If I hadn’t run away, maybe the boy would be fine, the school wouldn’t have burned, and the schoolmaster wouldn’t have died…”
“No, you did the right thing!”
Mo Fan said solemnly, “You did what you thought was right, so don’t carry any burden. If anyone’s to blame, it’s this unfair world!”
“We’re here. I need to go inside to buy something. Wait here.”
Mo Fan stopped, looking up at the building with three unfamiliar characters on its plaque.
As he stepped forward, he paused, turned to Mr. Pig, and asked, “What do those words say?”
“Sir, the plaque reads ‘Hundred Weapons Pavilion’!”
“Thank you!”
Mo Fan’s lips curved slightly. Without pausing, he stepped into the Hundred Weapons Pavilion.
