The Demonic Child

　　On the day I was born, nineteen bolts of lightning blazed around our yard, each one sparing our house. 

　　The final bolt, witnessed by the entire village, struck the old elm tree, sending black smoke billowing into the sky.

　　Some villagers whispered about an old hunter who had sought shelter from the storm in a mountain cave. 

　　He claimed to have seen a breathtakingly beautiful woman, pale and frail, with eight tails. 

　　She had inquired about a family named Wu in Jiushan Village; a family expecting a child. 

　　The hunter, paralyzed with fear, could only nod.

　　"It seems," the ethereal woman had sighed, "I have a debt to repay." 

　　As thunder clapped, she closed her eyes and collapsed, still as death. 

　　When the old hunter eventually returned with help, her body was gone. 

　　At that same hour, I was born. 

　　The midwife, upon seeing me, almost dropped me in shock. 

　　My appearance was unsettling: a pointed chin, a fox-like head, tiny fangs, and a covering of fine white fur. 

　　I didn't cry like other newborns; I simply looked hungry. 

　　When my mother tried to nurse me, I drew only blood, leaving her to recoil in fear and pain.

　　The midwife, who had delivered half the village in her lifetime, had never encountered such a child. 

　　She feared I was a demon child who needed to be abandoned, left to die in the graveyard, lest I bring misfortune upon my family. 

　　My father, while disturbed, couldn't bring himself to abandon his firstborn. 

　　Desperate, he turned to his own father, my grandfather, for guidance.

　　My grandfather, upon seeing me, was horrified. 

　　He lamented his fate, wondering what he had done in a past life to deserve such a monstrous child in the Wu family. 

　　Yet, he, too, could not bear to abandon his grandson, no matter how strange.

　　An idea occurred to him. 

　　Surely, he reasoned, the nineteen bolts of lightning that had circled their house must have some significance. 

　　He instructed my father to seek out a renowned fortune teller named Wu in Baliwa and learn what had befallen their family. 

　　My father set off that night, walking for miles until the sun rose. 

　　Upon hearing his tale, the fortune teller was shocked, and immediately agreed to return to the village with him.

　　What greeted them at our house was even more bizarre.

　　Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of weasels and foxes had materialized around our house, a teeming, writhing mass. 

　　Their origins were a mystery, but they surrounded our yard, barking and screeching in a deafening chorus. 

　　Villagers gathered at a distance, whispering about demon children and the vengeful spirits of weasels and foxes. 

　　Our family was surely cursed. 

　　My father, grabbing a stout stick, prepared to drive the animals away when the fortune teller stopped him. 

　　He studied the creatures with narrowed eyes. "Do nothing," he said. "They mean no harm."

　　As if on cue, the din ceased, and all the weasels and foxes knelt, bowing three times in unison towards our house before vanishing as quickly as they had arrived. 

　　My father, awestruck, turned to the fortune teller for an explanation. 

　　The fortune teller's expression was grim. He brushed past my father. "I need to see the child first," he said. 

　　My grandfather brought me to him. 

　　The fortune teller, Wu, took one look and gasped, his eyes gleaming. 

　　He inquired about my birthdate and began to make calculations. "This child is extraordinary," he announced, excitement in his voice. "A true demon child! He should be abandoned. He will bring misfortune! He cannot consume ordinary food, only blood! Even if you try to raise him, he will die." 

　　Panic seized my family. 

　　My father, collapsing to his knees, pleaded, "Mr. Wu, please! Find a way! He is of my wife! We cannot let him die!" 

　　"Mr. Wu, is there nothing to be done?" my grandfather begged.

　　"Do you know why nineteen bolts of lightning struck around your yard at his birth?" the fortune teller asked, not expecting a reply. 

　　The two men shook their heads, clueless.

　　"I've consulted the heavens," the fortune teller explained. "This child is possessed by a powerful demon. It was on the verge of transcending its form and becoming human, but divine retribution struck. At that very moment, your child was born. To avoid being obliterated by the heavens, the demon transferred its spirit into your son, sparing him." 

　　"The weasels and foxes that bowed before your door are proof. I believe the demon who possessed your child was a fox who had attained great power. These creatures were his kin and disciples."

　　My father was in tears. 

　　"Mr. Wu," he choked, "what should we do?"

　　Wu sighed. 

　　"I have never seen anything like it," he admitted. "Even if he lives, this child faces a life of hardship, marked by misfortune. Every three years, he will face a major tribulation. And each tribulation will claim a life - his own, or another's. He is destined for at least eighteen such trials in his lifetime."

　　"There is one path," he continued, "but it will be arduous. He can become my apprentice and learn the mystical arts. But it will come at a cost – five misfortunes and three deficiencies will follow him. It's a life more challenging than death itself, and he can never see you again." 

　　None of them could have predicted that the fortune teller himself would be my first tribulation. 

　　He was carrying me out of the village when he suddenly collapsed, bleeding from his seven orifices. 

　　He was dead.