Chapter 58 Demon and Madman, Part Two
Mr. J pushed his fiery red hair back.
He looked at those villagers, at how they lacked the courage even to meet his gaze, but instead directed their resentment and hostility towards a ten-year-old girl who was emaciated, and an old man who looked frail and on the verge of death.
He watched this absurd scene, and slowly, his lips spread out from his cheeks, revealing a chilling, sinister smile.
“Alright, I will tell you a story.”
Clap clap.
As he spoke, he gently clapped his hands twice. The sound wasn’t loud, but it instantly silenced the increasingly agitated villagers, who were now frozen like frogs caught in the gaze of a venomous snake—too scared to move, speak, or look up.
Seeing this, Mr. J nodded with satisfaction.
Behind him, the knights continued to curse and fight back fiercely. The sounds of swords clashing, objects being dragged, and the dragging of headless corpses toward a distant sparse forest could be heard. The forest was nearly filled with dead knights; the stench of blood could be detected from afar.
The villagers were terrified by the commotion.
Mr. J didn’t turn around. He looked at these pitiful people, guessing what those reckless knights behind him must have done from their frightened eyes. He heard suppressed sobs from the crowd and smelled the faint odor of urine from where they stood.
Mr. J paid no attention.
He began telling his story, regardless of whether anyone was listening.
“I’ll tell you a story. There was once a village where a demon lived. This demon poisoned the well water, causing the villagers who drank it to grow tails. Only one wise man did not drink the water.”
As he spoke, Mr. J walked around.
Unable to resist, he glanced again at the little girl, seeing her mouth still covered by the old man. Her tiny eyes stared intently at him, brimming with anger. This amused him, so he winked at her.
“The wise man told everyone that if they stopped drinking the well water, they would return to their human form. But everyone thought he was mad and wanted to burn him. With no other choice, the wise man drank the water too, restoring balance to the world. A group of monkeys then lived in peace and prosperity—a popular comedic tale in the Eastern Continent.”
Mr. J paused and turned his gaze away from the girl, smiling as he scanned the crowd. “That’s the end of the story. It’s simple. I guess you didn’t understand, but it doesn’t matter. What I want you to think about is this: what if the wise man never drank the water? What might happen next…”
Wherever he looked, people lowered their heads, trembling in fear and unable to meet his eyes. This bored him, so he looked back at the only girl who dared to meet his gaze. He raised his finger and pointed at her position.
“Little girl, what’s your name… never mind, it doesn’t matter. Tell me, if the wise man hadn’t drunk the water—”
Before Mr. J could finish his question, the little girl angrily broke free from the old man’s grip.
“I won’t say! I don’t want to! Waaah!”
The old man, alarmed, quickly covered her mouth again. The girl tried to speak but couldn’t, so she bit him instead. However, the elderly village chief refused to let go.
Mr. J watched, his interest piqued again.
“Look, although you’re not the wise man, you also refuse to drink the water… forget it, I’ll just tell you directly. If the wise man never drank the water, two things usually happen.”
He held up one finger.
“First, the villagers tie him to a pyre and burn him alive. You can imagine the scene. ‘Whoosh,’ the fire ignites, crackling and popping. The wise man screams in agony as he turns into a pile of charcoal, quite pitiful. But he’s different, and not strong enough. This world doesn’t tolerate weak anomalies, even if it’s amusing, that’s just how it is.”
Then he held up another finger.
“Secondly, the wise man has the ability to escape from the village. After he escapes, the villagers become furious and consider him a madman. Of course, the demon is不甘心 (unwilling). It has the power to control everything as it pleases. How dare someone defy its will? This is unacceptable. The demon forbids any dissenting voices. So, it disguises itself as a servant of the deity and tells the villagers that the person who escaped is actually the real demon.”
Mr. J paused, his lips twitching nervously as he smiled.
“Thus, the wise man’s identity changes from a person to a madman, and then from a madman to a demon. Not only that village, but the entire world rejects him.”
“He is shunned and hunted by all the tail-wearing, demon-tamed monkeys. Everyone believes he is an unrepentant demon. Yet, the true demon sits in a magnificent hall, disguised as a loyal servant of the deity, misleading the masses.”
Blind faith, revered and admired by a group of monkeys. From this point on, a new era for mankind began—indeed, something to celebrate.”
After Mr. J finished speaking, he bowed deeply to the villagers.
His posture was like that of a clown taking a bow on stage, his pale face wearing a strange smile as he spread his arms, waiting for expected flowers and applause.
But there was no applause.
The sudden courtesy from the devil only made the villagers feel uneasy and at a loss.
They seemed to sense his joy and wanted to echo it, but they didn’t know what to say, nor did they understand how to react at this moment. The lingering fear in their hearts made it difficult for them to respond, and they couldn’t comprehend what the devil had just said.
These people had lived for generations in this remote coastal area, with little contact with outsiders and almost no education. Most of them could barely recognize a few letters, let alone understand such veiled stories? They didn’t even listen carefully; all they cared about was how to survive.
“…Ah, I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
Fortunately, no one echoed him, so Mr. J didn’t feel embarrassed.
“What I want to tell you is that I am not a devil. I’m just a simple madman, yes, simply a madman.”
He brushed off the dust from his lapel, twisted his lips into a sickly smile: “Do you know what is most pitiful about being a monkey? It’s that everything seems fine on the surface, but in reality, the spirit has long been eroded. Just like you, living in hardship, perhaps losing many lives during bad weather. You strive to survive, trying to confine yourselves to a comfortable cage, but even if you risk your life, the reward you get is less than what others get from a simple tea break—you have no value, and you don’t know how to fight against your fate.”
“You don’t even have the qualifications to be manipulated. Your lives are so lowly that you could be exposed to the elements at any moment. When bandits come, you die. When pirates come, you die. When war comes, you die. When the abyss comes, you die even more. Now that we’re here, you still die. You live so humbly, yet never ask why. Because you are not wise, nor are you that madman. You are just a group of tailless monkeys.”
Mr. J cleared his throat, straightened his clothes, and looked at the villagers’ bewildered faces one by one. After circling around the topic, he brought it back.
“Earlier, when I asked what you thought, you misunderstood me. I wasn’t asking if you considered me a devil… Of course, you would consider me a devil. That wasn’t my question.”
When the villagers understood what he meant, they became even more alarmed and started to protest. Mr. J ignored them, waving his arm towards the knights kneeling behind him.
“What I want to ask is, do you think, like those knights, that there will surely be a hero descending from the sky soon? I know you admire heroes, this is a sad idea instilled by the church, always waiting for heroes to save the day. But now I tell you, this is impossible.”
“Because I’m not quite like the madman in the story.”
“I have never been a wise man with good intentions. I am a simple madman, from the very beginning. A madman should act like a madman. Do you know what I would do? That’s the third situation I didn’t mention earlier—I would smash your well.”
“And you… Either you die like this. Or, join me and become a madman.”
Mr. J’s smile suddenly turned wild.
He turned his neck, pointing at several nearby believers: “Marcus, Angus, Weathermill, and Hacha… Over a month ago, three thousand knights at the South Coast camp faced us nine people, and they were defeated, collapsing in disarray. Today, I have gathered nearly two thousand people here—”
He paused, the silent smile continuing to expand.
“No, two thousand madmen.”
“Hehehehe…”
Those who were pointed at laughed along with him. Mr. J casually waved his hand, and someone handed him a knife.
The villagers didn’t know what was about to happen, but they knew clearly—the most interesting part was coming.
“They have ten thousand, we have two thousand. They have elite soldiers, we only have knives. They have been starving for two or three days, while we have been starving longer… Long enough that even if the Pope’s knights you hope for stand before you, they would still be torn apart.”
Mr. J took the long knife, holding it in his hand, walking towards the crowd.
“When the ships reached the shore, I thought… Ah, maybe there’s no need to think, just raise the knife and push forward, it might be happier… And I was right. Those knights hit us like meat going through a grinder, that wonderful feeling… indeed brought unimaginable pleasure. No one can stop two thousand madmen. The heroes you expect, the Pope’s knights, none of them work… Do you understand what I mean?”
