What does it mean to be a monster?
According to Li San and his companions, a true monster should possess a ghastly visage, fangs like daggers, a towering physique akin to a mountain, and—ideally—some dried blood at the corners of its mouth. In fact, if you hadn't devoured a few humans, you'd hardly be qualified to converse with your fellow demons.
Yet, the pig demon that now appeared before them utterly defied their expectations.
Amidst the gradually dissipating black mist, a petite, pink piglet stood upright on its hind legs, wobbling adorably—
It was no larger than a human palm, donning a pair of tiny sunglasses and carrying a set of miniature musical instruments on its back.
This modest debut alone was enough to ignite the tender affections of every woman present; had Jiadi been there, she might have pulled out her chequebook on the spot.
"Wait… this is the monster?" Everyone stared in stunned silence, suddenly feeling somewhat ashamed of their assumptions.
In fact, upon seeing its diminutive form, Li San felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and let his massive broadsword clatter to the ground.
"Of course I'm a demon, you morons!" came an abrupt voice that sent a chill through the crowd.
To their astonishment, the piglet pushed its sunglasses up its snout and nonchalantly lit a tiny cigarette. "The name's… hmm, call me Pighead the Third."
Silence. An eerie, uncomfortable silence. The kind that weighs heavily in the air. And then—chaos.
Someone snorted first, and in an instant, the entire courtyard erupted in roaring laughter.
Linde doubled over, clutching his stomach, tears streaming down his face. "Pighead the Third? Why not call yourself Pork Cracklings while you're at it?"
To his surprise, the pig showed no anger—only innocent confusion. "Wait, how did you know my nickname?"
The crowd howled with renewed mirth, some collapsing onto the ground, convinced that the pig's ultimate weapon might just be laughter-induced death.
"Enough!" Realizing he was being mocked, Pighead the Third snorted furiously and yanked a miniature guitar from his back. "Listen up! Lady Lei Ying is mine! You scoundrels better back off or else…"
"Or else you'll serenade us while dancing?" Linde gasped between fits of laughter, envisioning the pig performing a jig.
Furious, the pig raised a hoof and strummed the guitar with dramatic flair. "You asked for it, you wretches!"
Music erupted.
The pig began to sway its tiny hips and burst into song:
"Come, I'm a mango! Go-go-go-go-go-go!
Come, I'm a grape! Grape-grape-grape-grape-grape…"
Instantly, the rhythm gripped the entire audience. Even a military drill wouldn't have produced such synchronized motion.
Chen Mo rubbed his chin in disbelief, half-impressed. But just as he prepared to applaud, he suddenly realized he couldn't control his limbs—his arms and legs began to move to the beat involuntarily.
And he wasn't alone. Everyone, struck dumb with confusion, found their bodies dancing against their will, wholly possessed by the music.
"How's that? If you don't leave, I'll make you dance until you drop!" Pighead the Third crowed triumphantly, strumming with swagger.
"Really?" Though his limbs moved unwillingly, Chen Mo remained outwardly composed. Locking eyes with the smug pig, he smiled faintly. "As it happens, I dabble in music too."
Before the pig could react, a loud hum surged from Chen Mo's pocket—Nono, the makeshift device, had activated. Four crude loudspeakers blared static and noise, drowning the pig's melody entirely.
Startled and disoriented, Pighead the Third faltered mid-performance. "Huh? You too? Hmph! Feel my mighty tenor!"
But before he could unleash his high note, Nono's speakers surged again, utterly overpowering his sound.
The spell broken, everyone regained control of their bodies. They didn't waste a second.
With a war cry, Linde lunged forward, brandishing his peachwood sword. "Take this—my Phantom Kick of Foshan!"
"Mount Lu's Ascending Dragon Strike! Pegasus Meteor Fist! North Star Fist! Tathagata's Palm! Eighteen Bronze Men of Shaolin…!"
A cacophony of battle cries rang out. Dust billowed as they pounced on the hapless pig, battering it without mercy.
Watching from a distance, Chen Mo sighed deeply, half-amused. "This is why names matter. What possessed you to call yourself Pighead the Third? You've been beaten into one, haven't you?"
"Rooaarrr!"
Before he could finish, a tremendous roar shattered the air. Thick black clouds surged in like tidal waves.
The crowd froze, stepping back instinctively.
Pighead the Third, now bruised and battered, suddenly expanded with alarming speed.
Within moments, he had transformed into a monstrous white boar the size of an ox, with limbs like stone pillars and steaming breath gushing from his nostrils.
"Wait… is this even the same pig?" Eyes wide, the group shuffled back in perfect unison, clearly prepared to flee.
But the boar didn't attack. It simply prowled in circles, snorting and roaring in place.
After a long, tense silence, Linde gathered his courage and thrust his sword forward. "You think a makeover will save you? Ha—AHHH!"
Before he could finish, he was flung skyward in a graceful arc and landed with a thud on a distant rooftop.
Li San trembled, clinging to his massive blade. He looked as though he might faint, but managed, before losing consciousness, to do the bravest thing of his life—
"HELP!" he screamed, and like frightened birds, the entire group scattered in panic.
The enraged white boar, now in a berserk frenzy, charged forward, smashing through everything in its path.
"Berserker mode?" Chen Mo stared, stunned. He made no move to approach. Instead, he extended his palms from afar.
In a flash, a sphere of crackling electricity shot out, startling the beast.
But it quickly vanished into the night sky, as if it had never existed.
"Was… was that it?" The fleeing crowd looked up, puzzled. Frankly, even a butcher's knife might have had more effect.
Yet in that very moment, thick clouds swept across the sky, blotting out the stars like an eclipse.
Pighead the Third, sensing something amiss, looked up in alarm—his eyes gleaming faintly with returning awareness.
And then—
A bolt of arcane lightning cleaved through the night, crashing down with unstoppable force.
With a deafening boom, the earth quaked for miles. Fog billowed outward, rippling with unseen energy. A rich scent of roasted meat lingered in the breeze.
Whoosh! Guoguo's lid flew open, dispersing the mist with a gust of wind.
Chen Mo tensed, scanning the scene—only to find Pighead the Third lying on his back, half-charred, limbs twitching like an epileptic, snorting weakly in protest.
The group let out a collective sigh of relief.
"Damn, Brother Chen… you've been hiding your strength!" Linde exclaimed, his awe genuine.
"Demon! Taste my Purity Talisman!" someone else bellowed.
Before the words had even fully settled, a blur darted through the sky—it was little Xun'er, only just awakened, sleep still clouding her eyes. Without hesitation, she flung a peachwood sword forward, conjuring streaks of emerald light.
"No, wait!" Chen Mo shouted—but it was too late.
Three talismans streaked into the pig demon's mouth.
Remembering Xun'er's historically abysmal accuracy rate, Chen Mo and Nono wisely began retreating.
But then… the pig paused, went quiet, and appeared strangely serene—almost hypnotized.
"It worked?" Chen Mo wiped his brow in disbelief. "No way… Xun'er actually succeeded?"
Nono swayed beside him, dazed. After a long silence, it murmured, "Boss… we should take her to buy lottery tickets tomorrow. Maybe she'll win five million."
"ROOOAARRR!"
Before the words faded, the demon pig leapt back to its feet with renewed fury.
And hovering above on her sword, Xun'er muttered to herself with a puzzled expression: "Wait… did I use the Purity Talisman again? Or was it the Refreshing one?"