Chapter Fifteen: The Water Demon

Just as Peter hit the water, a dark shadow darted toward him from the clear depths.

“Damn, it’s a water wraith! Save him, now!” Director Tyrannosaurus roared, his thunderous shout making everyone’s ears ring with pain.

“Roar! Roar!” Director Tyrannosaurus bellowed again at the water, sending ripples dancing across the surface. The crowd was so shaken that they clutched their heads, overwhelmed by the pounding in their skulls.

Both the water wraith and Peter quickly leaped out of the water. The wraith was covered in long, matted hair, draped with greenish moss, and blood trickled from its ears—it had clearly been wounded by Director Tyrannosaurus’s lion’s roar. Filthy water dripped incessantly from its body. Its blood-red eyes glimmered with a sinister and ferocious light that sent chills down everyone’s spine, while its bluish-black face exuded a cunning and treacherous air.

Peter, meanwhile, bore several claw marks that oozed blood, the drops pattering to the ground. He looked drained and listless.

“Holy Healing!” Peter once again raised his crucifix, and instantly the wounds and scratches vanished. Yet the tattered priest’s robe still left him looking rather disheveled.

“Catch it quickly! Don’t let it get back to the water. On land this thing is weak as a kitten, but if it gets back in the water, it’ll be a nightmare to deal with!” Director Tyrannosaurus shouted as he charged forward.

“Director, next time you’re going to use the lion’s roar, give us some warning! I can’t hear a thing now!” Wu Ming shook his spinning head.

“Exactly, exactly! It was awful—I’m still dizzy!” the little music apprentice cried, clutching her head and shaking it, looking as innocent and adorable as ever—a natural-born charmer, a real heartbreaker for any shut-in.

“Tied up!” The Enchantress Sister’s whip lashed out in a sneak attack, winding tightly around the water wraith and binding it securely.

The wraith struggled fiercely against the whip, but the more it fought, the tighter it was bound, until finally it collapsed to the ground, completely immobilized.

“Ha! Got it!” someone cheered.

“Amitabha, allow me to deliver it to the next life,” said Master Emptiness.

“Thank you for your efforts, Master Emptiness,” the Enchantress said, saluting him.

“Holy Retribution!” Peter’s voice was strained and distorted; he felt as if his companions, struggling to suppress their laughter, were mocking him. For reasons he could not name, a blaze of anger flared in his heart. A searing pillar of light shot down from the sky, striking the wraith. Amidst a chilling, inhuman howl, the creature’s body twisted and contorted, dissolving into black mist.

Peter’s laughter that followed was strange and unsettling, utterly at odds with the compassionate, sorrowful demeanor he once displayed as an emissary of God. It sounded more like the laughter of someone whose mind had been warped.

“Amitabha, was that truly necessary, my friend?” Master Emptiness began to chant softly, then bowed to the group and explained, “Such water wraiths, also called drowned ghosts, are usually the souls of those who perished by drowning. If they have not found a substitute to take their place, they cannot reincarnate or be reborn. As the saying goes, those who are pitiful often have their own failings. But as a fellow servant of faith, I urge you to show mercy.”

“Shut your mouth, you bald monk. Mind your own business. Our paths are not the same—we’re only cooperating for now. Don’t try to lecture me.” Peter glared at Master Emptiness, his face full of resentment.

“Amitabha,” Master Emptiness responded, bowing once more and saying nothing further.