Chapter Twenty-Three: The Barn (IV) A Night of Blood

“What on earth are you?!”
When terror reaches its peak, it turns into fury, and Shao was no exception. He was so frightened by the creature on the roof that he could barely breathe, pointing at it and demanding an answer in a harsh, barking tone.
The monster on the roof was completely unfazed, not even moving, still crunching away at some unknown thing.
Shao observed and thought, "Well, it seems this monster has no intention of harming me. I yelled at it and it didn't even respond—it's ignoring a living, breathing person like me." With this realization, he cautiously stepped forward, glanced up at the creature, and saw it still chewing its mysterious meal without a hint of reaction.
Feeling a slight relief, Shao muttered under his breath, “You little brat, I'm not playing your game.” He took a few more steps forward.
But just as he finished cursing, the creature moved its arm ever so slightly, which startled Shao so much he nearly collapsed onto the floor. He noticed some transparent shards falling from the creature’s hands; upon closer inspection, he realized it was glass—the creature was eating glass.
He began to piece together the truth behind last night's strange events in the car.
Perhaps the creature had hidden among their luggage and emerged at night to feast on glass. That must be it.
With this thought, Shao returned to the room, emboldened, and the monster did not follow.
Back inside, Shao chuckled to himself at his own cowardice—he’d been so terrified by a ball of flesh that he'd wet his pants. He slapped himself lightly, sighed, and turned off the lights, preparing to sleep.
“Stubborn, stubborn, crunch crunch crunch…” The door slowly opened from outside.
Tap, tap. In the moonlight, a short figure tiptoed inside.
Shao hadn’t yet fallen asleep and shuddered at the sound of the door, but he dared not move, keeping his eyes closed and pretending to sleep, waiting to see what the newcomer would do.
Soon, the footsteps drew closer and closer, until suddenly the person’s hand rested on Shao’s head.
Shivering, Shao opened his eyes to find a strange, cold face staring at him. He cried out and sat up in bed, and, once again, his bladder began to stir.
“Kid, what’s wrong?” The bizarre figure rasped.
Shao turned and switched on the light, and saw the owner of the house—a grotesque old man—standing at the bedside, holding a spittoon.
Shao clutched his chest, breathing heavily, still shaken after half a minute.
“Geez, old man, you nearly scared me to death—I almost fainted.”
The old man smiled. “Child, why are you so frightened? I know I look ugly, but I’m just here to bring you a spittoon. If you need to get up at night, don’t go outside.”
Shao nodded, “Thank you, sir.”

The old man nodded and smiled, though his alien visage made the smile rather terrifying. After that, he asked, “Kid, did you see something strange?”
Shao’s mind buzzed; he quickly replied, “I certainly did, you’re right—it's sitting right on the roof of this house.”
The old man chuckled and nodded, “That’s not from my home—it’s something you brought here.”
Shao wasn’t surprised; he had already deduced as much.
He handed the old man a cigarette. “Sir, do you know what that thing is?”
The old man took the cigarette, took a drag, and nodded. “That creature is called a ‘Mo’.”
Shao nodded; he’d heard of the ‘Mo’ before. Its earliest mention was in the Classic of Mountains and Seas: the Mo is a beast that eats iron and copper, nothing else. The poet Bai Juyi wrote about it in ‘Ode to the Mo Screen’: the Mo has an elephant’s trunk, a rhinoceros’s eyes, a cow’s tail, and tiger’s feet, and lives in the southern mountains and valleys. Its image wards off evil and disease. Bai Juyi used a painted screen with its likeness to protect his head from old ailments. But the huge shadow he saw bore no resemblance to these descriptions.
“This Mo doesn’t harm people; it just loves eating glass and metal. No need to fear it,” the old man explained.
Shao nodded, “Thank you, sir. Seems the monster has changed its tastes.”
The old man smiled, placed the spittoon on the floor, and left the room.
With the old man's reassurance, most of Shao’s fear melted away. He closed his eyes, ready to drift into sleep.
“I died so unjustly, so wronged!” The plaintive voice returned, echoing in the room.
Shao jolted awake and sat up. What he saw stunned him.
The freshly painted wall was splattered with blood, and three bodies lay sprawled on the floor—a family of three.
A beautiful woman, her ha