After passing through Baeyun Gorge and heading east, a plain appears where black clouds cover the sky, erasing the distinction between day and night.
This region of unrelenting darkness is known as the Plain of Despair, where swarms of yokai roam the land.
The area, forbidden for approach by the nation of Vestia due to its high risk, holds a place even these yokai hesitate to approach—a crumbling fortress situated in the center of the plain.
Once a major city boasting the prosperity of the ancient Vestia Kingdom, it was overrun by yokai and reduced to ruins. Now it serves as the meeting hall for a few powerful yokai.
Inside the massive meeting hall of the fortress.
A fire burns unceasingly at the center.
Thud, thud, thud.
Attached to a gigantic body, one hundred legs move as if each has its own will, claiming a seat at the round table.
Impossible to read what lies beneath the half-closed eyes. A black fedora and a tuxedo. Several hand-like legs grip a cane firmly. It was the centipede yokai BaiGakSinSa.
“Ah, I’m a bit late, I apologize. It took longer than expected to put on my shoes.”
Generally, powerful yokai with a certain level of strength stay confined to their territories and rarely emerge. BaiGakSinSa was no different.
The centipede yokai, who prefers to linger in underground tunnels, was reluctant to ascend to the surface, but today was a special day.
A rumor had spread: a Gumiho had appeared, gathering yokai with a coded message.
“Who would’ve thought the Gumiho would awaken at this moment? Is that not correct?”
“It’s been quite some time since it emerged from the seal. Likely, its power has recovered enough for us to sense its presence.”
The female speaker in the form of a horse was Wu—one of the Twelve Ghostly Deities.
“Hehehehehehe. That’s right! Naturally, that’s how it should be! Is it not fitting for a Gumiho to act as it does?”
A hulking giant with muscles so massive he seemed unable to cross his arms spoke heartily.
He was a dokkaebi, also known as the king of dokkaebis, Tǔ Yíng Xiān.
For Tǔ Yíng Xiān, who delighted in sparring with the strongest, the return of the Gumiho was good news.
“Where is the Gumiho now? I must meet her immediately!”
He smiled like a child who had just been promised a trip to an amusement park by their parents, glancing at Hekbi as he waited for an answer.
Hekbi, wearing an eye patch, paid no heed to Tǔ Yíng Xiān’s gaze, instead leisurely sipping tea and swaying her black tail.
“If you were to search for her now, it would not fulfill your expectations. In her current state, she’s not even a full Gumiho—merely a six-tailed fox.”
One of the three great fox yokai.
The Thousand Foxes, the Gumiho, and the Dark Fox, Hekbi.
A fox that could reverse destiny.
A fox capable of casting an emperor into ruin or raising a vagrant to the throne.
She was a dangerous figure capable of upending the fates of princes and beggars with ease.
In the past, Hekbi was one of the double horse-drawn carriages of the Foxy clan alongside the Gumiho, but she was also the greatest betrayer who abandoned her kin to aid in the Gumiho hunts on behalf of the heavens.
Had it not been for her, perhaps the world would now be under the dominion of the foxes.
“Moreover, there is no room for playing games with the Gumiho. The order from the Skies is to root out her seed before she can fully transform into a Gumiho.”
“Hmm.”
The yokai’s reactions were ambiguous. They were yokai, after all—heedless of any orders, acting only on instinct.
To obey an order, let alone to capture another yokai like the Gumiho, was far from ideal.
One of the Twelve Ghostly Deities questioned,
“Isn’t capturing the Gumiho ordinarily the role of the Thousand Foxes? Why has a celestial decree been issued to us yokai?”
“That much I do not know, but perhaps the Thousand Foxes have betrayed the heavens.”
“Hmm…”
“Refusal will not be tolerated. To defy would invite the same punishment as the Gumiho, and the Celestial Punishment will befall you.”
Even the most carefree of yokai feared celestial punishment. In that case, capturing the Gumiho was a safer option.
“Dark Fox Lady, why not assign the task of eliminating the Gumiho to me?”
The one who stepped forward as the yokai hesitated was an old man with a walking staff.
Though he wore the human guise, he, too, was a yokai—a fallen monk, PaGyeSeung, who turned to eating his comrades out of fear of death, thus becoming a yokai.
“You are not capable,” Hekbi replied. “Though her power has faded, she remains a Gumiho.”
“I have a strategy, please—”
“Hmm.”
PaGyeSeung persistently clung on, refusing to give up easily.
The current Gumiho was like a fragile boat adrift in a vast sea. Even without interference, she would self-destruct. Yet PaGyeSeung would provoke the waves, being especially adept in such matters. Hekbi hesitated because she could see through his intentions all too clearly.
An opportunity to eliminate the infamous Gumiho. PaGyeSeung planned to monopolize her spirit power by taking her down in her weakened state.
After some deliberation, Hekbi decided.
“Very well. I will assign this task to you.”
She had not fully grasped the Gumiho’s current state. Dispatching PaGyeSeung as the vanguard to gauge her strength wouldn’t be a bad idea.
PaGyeSeung happily retreated.
“I will not disappoint you.”
It was a night thick with darkness.
The faint glow of the stone streetlights illuminated the night paths. Other than a few nocturnal water humans just beginning their activities, Vestia was quiet.
Thud. Thud.
A walking staff rhythmically tapped the ground. Having successfully infiltrated the city, PaGyeSeung walked down an empty street.
Somewhere in the city, the Gumiho was hidden.
He couldn’t comprehend why the Gumiho would live among humans. The Gumiho he knew would have already been out hunting and devouring them by now.
If she were alone, finding her would be difficult enough, but in a city like this, it was no easy feat. A commotion might draw the water humans out as well.
“I might as well take care of Vestia now.”
Thus, he thought. All he needed was to limit the actions of the water humans.
Eliminate the Gumiho and take care of the thorn in his side—the water humans. Using wide-area sorcery recklessly, however, would invite unwanted attention.
Thus, his method must be covert. Like a rat gnawing away slowly, unseen, until it’s too late to notice.
Fortuitously, PaGyeSeung had the perfect sorcery for the job. He aimed it at a lone rat water human who unsuspectingly crossed his path in a deserted alley.
“Ugh… I’m drunk…”
Bailun, a deer water human, stumbled and swayed as he walked down the street. He had overindulged.
But he couldn’t help himself. There wasn’t a male who could resist the drinks offered by the Bunnygirls at the finest tavern in Vestia, “Rabbit in the Moon.”
Anyone who could resist must not be a man—or suffer from premature ejaculation like a rabbit.
“Ugh, I gotta pee.”
Bailun faced the wall, fumbling with his pants, and soon a powerful stream of urine could be heard. He released all that had been stored in his bladder with uninhibited relief.
So satisfying was the relief that Bailun couldn’t help but hum a little tune to himself.
“Shitsa leaving leaving leaving chouttel… Shitsa leaving leaving leaving chouttel…”
Having finished his business, Bailun tidied up. He was about to take a wobbly step back in the general direction of home.
“Hm?”
Opposite the narrow alley.
A dark shadow blocked his way.
It was a rat water human, easily recognizable by her round ears.
“Hey, why are you just standing there blocking the way? Move aside.”
“…”
“Can’t you hear me?”
No response. She simply stared into space with a vacant expression.
Had she also been drinking?
Otherwise, had she taken drugs?
His previously pleasant evening was ruined. Bailun, on purpose, pushed the rat water human’s shoulder forcefully to pass through.
*
The next day, midday.
Bailun walked slowly with a hunched back, each step heavy and precarious, as if a single breeze could knock him over.
His face, pale like one who had battled a long illness, had lost its natural color. His eyes were sunken, sweat streamed down his cheeks, and his breath wheezed like a broken music box.
Each step seemed more difficult than the last; it was less walking and more inertia causing his body to tilt forward.
The horns he once boasted of looked lackluster today, and his gaunt frame resembled that of a dying man. People passing by eyed him strangely, keeping their distance.
“Hey, Bailun. Are you alright? You don’t look too good.”
A water human who recognized him approached with a worried expression, but Bailun gave no response. He kept walking—thump, thump, thump—endlessly.
Bailun’s body then suddenly listing to the side,
With a thud,
Finally collapsed onto the ground.
“Bailun? Hey, Bailun!”
The man flipped Bailun over. His pupils were rolled back, and dark veins protruded from his eyes.
“What is that? Is he okay? Is he dead?”
“Doctor! Don’t just stand there, call a doctor quickly!”
Many people gathered at the scene where the commotion had erupted in the middle of the street.
The start of the plague.
