Chapter 270: The Legend of the Flying Head Tribe

2022-05-20

As soon as I spoke everyone’s attention shifted to the emblem on Li Xiaojuan’s school uniform. Before this I’d just felt the pattern on her clothes was odd but hadn’t been able to figure out what it was. But when Li Xiaojuan turned her back to me I suddenly realized it looked a lot like the shadow we’d glimpsed at Luo Ding’s house.

The face on the front was oversized, much bigger than a regular person’s, but its body was tiny—like a big head perched on a small person’s body.

Curious I asked, “Really? But what exactly is this thing?”

Li Xiaojuan shook her head. “I have no idea. It just looked pretty cool to me, so I asked my boyfriend to draw it.”

At that point, Wang Ang—who’d been shy and reserved the whole time—finally spoke up. “That’s called a Flying Head Barbarian. It’s a monster from our country’s tales about spirits and ghosts. During the day, Flying Head Barbarians seem like ordinary people—always women. But when night comes their heads detach from their bodies and fly out, scaring people everywhere.”

Noticing our intrigued faces, Wang Ang seemed to gain confidence now that we were on his turf. He continued, “Most of the time, the Flying Head Barbarian isn’t all that powerful. When their head leaves at night it stays attached by the neck. But if the creature is more skilled, the head can actually separate from the neck entirely. Every night, the head flies out and returns right before dawn.”

I asked, “Can this thing pass through glass?”

Wang Ang shook his head. “That’d be terrifying! Normally a Flying Head Barbarian isn’t much of a threat. Even if you run into one late at night, don’t panic. It’s just a flying head—you’ve got arms and legs. Just boot it away if you have to. But if it’s mastered its craft, it becomes deadly. It can kill anyone, go anywhere like there were no obstacles—no one could stop it.”

“Seriously? That sounds so exaggerated. Why has no one ever seen one?” Li Xiaojuan snorted, clearly unconvinced.

Honestly, if I hadn’t seen that fleeting glimpse of a giant face at Luo Ding’s house, I would probably just laugh this off as another wild story to kill time over a meal. But without getting to the bottom of things, I couldn’t make any assumptions about the killer’s methods.

Seeing Li Xiaojuan’s disbelief only made Wang Ang more eager. “Why hasn’t anyone seen them? People have, you just don’t believe them. Go check out those cryptid forums—there are plenty of posts proving Flying Head Barbarians exist.”

Apparently, Wang Ang really knew his stuff about this. Now that he was in his element, he wouldn’t stop talking. I guess there’s no such thing as someone who’s always insecure. Put them in the right field, and anyone can shine.

Wang Ang wiped at the corner of his mouth and went on, “Actually, at first, the Flying Head Barbarian wasn’t even considered a monster. According to the Classic of Gods and Spirits, back in the Three Kingdoms era, there was a general from the State of Wu named Zhu Huan. He had taken a maidservant who seemed normal by day, but one night, Zhu Huan found something strange. He woke up in the middle of the night to discover the maidservant had no head.”

“The next morning, Zhu Huan thought it was just a dream but became more alert. Another night, the maid’s head went flying again, only this time Zhu Huan saw everything. He realized her body was still breathing, not dead even though her head was gone. But no matter what he did, the body didn’t respond.”

“Some thought the girl brought misfortune and wanted to kill her, but Zhu Huan stopped them—she’d served him for a while and had never tried to hurt him, so he let her live. Sure enough, the next morning her head came flying back through the skylight.”

“That time, Zhu Huan had an idea—he quickly covered the maid’s body with a blanket. The head couldn’t get back on, so it spun helplessly in circles at the edge of the bed. As daylight grew, the head lost its strength and fell to the floor.”

“On the ground the head started sighing and crying, looking like it was close to death. Zhu Huan hurriedly removed the blanket, and at the sight of her neck the head used all its strength to fly up and rejoin her body. In no time, she was back to normal.”

“The maid finally told the truth. Turns out she was from the Flying Head Tribe of the Hundred Yue. Their people have this special trait—their heads fly out at night, but they never mean harm. Even though the Flying Head Tribe wasn’t dangerous, they were still different. So Zhu Huan gave her some money and told her to move elsewhere.”

I shrugged. “So the Flying Head Tribe is conscious? They aren’t ghosts then?”

Wang Ang kept going. “I’m not finished yet. Listen a bit longer and it’ll make sense.”

“A long time later, the State of Wu started expanding and Zhu Huan led his army south. There he encountered a tribe that called themselves the Flying Head Tribe—fierce warriors he just couldn’t defeat. Suddenly Zhu Huan remembered his old maidservant saying she was one of them. That gave him an idea.”

“One deep night Zhu Huan told every soldier to carry a copper basin. The soldiers thought he was crazy—charging into battle at night was already dangerous, so why lug around copper basins? But Zhu Huan told them not to worry and marched the troops right into the tribe’s camp.”

“During the day the Flying Head Tribe were mighty warriors, but at night everything was eerily silent. The soldiers were nervous about an ambush, but Zhu Huan was all smiles. Once inside the camp, they realized all the tribal men and women were sound asleep. In the darkness it was hard to see but Zhu Huan led them around, making sure they placed the copper basins over the necks of the sleeping tribe members.”

“Some strategists suggested killing the tribe while they slept, but Zhu Huan waved them off. He said they’d win without bloodshed and told everyone to rest. No one else dared sleep, but Zhu Huan slept like a log. At dawn they suddenly saw thousands of heads flying in from outside the camp. The soldiers were terrified, dropping their gear in panic, but Zhu Huan stayed calm and told them not to be afraid.”

“Sure enough, the heads circled inside and out, unable to get back onto their own necks. As daylight brightened, the heads tired out and dropped to the ground like hailstones, shutting their eyes and dying one after another. In this bloodless victory, Zhu Huan defeated the entire Flying Head Tribe, and they faded into legend.”

After hearing the tale, everyone couldn’t help but marvel. Real or not, the story was certainly strange. I glanced at Wang Ang and said, “So you’re saying the Flying Head Barbarian is just the Flying Head Tribe of old? Didn’t they go extinct?”

Wang Ang nodded, then shook his head. “They were mostly wiped out but there are always survivors. A few escaped, hid their identities, and bore a lifelong hatred for people like us, vowing revenge.”

“Later some of those Flying Head Tribe members made their way southeast. After learning local witchcraft, the flying head ability was no longer unique to their tribe.”

At last, Wang Ang let out a long sigh as he finished his tale.

I asked, “So Flying Head Barbarians are made by people?”

Wang Ang grunted. “From what I’ve learned, you need certain conditions to create a Flying Head Barbarian. When a person dies with intense resentment, and if their head and body are separated at death, that ghost can be raised into a Flying Head Barbarian.”

Lü Zhiqiu was murdered; her resentment must’ve been immense. And her body and head were indeed separated. Could Lü Xiangyang have turned her into a Flying Head Barbarian? But Lü Xiangyang was just a kid back then, and his parents clearly never told him the truth about her death. So how could she have been made into one?

I asked, “Here’s a question—what if the deceased met all your conditions, but has been dead for seven years? Is it still possible to make a Flying Head Barbarian?”

Wang Ang nodded. “Definitely. People who die unjustly can’t be reincarnated. These vengeful spirits wander in the world, and anyone with the right knowledge might turn one into a Flying Head Barbarian. The fiercer the ghost, the stronger and more dangerous the result!”

Even though I didn’t believe half of Wang Ang’s explanations, something about it all was too coincidental. Did Lü Xiangyang really master some kind of forbidden art, raise a Flying Head Barbarian, and set her upon the thirteen who wronged her?

I looked at Wang Ang. “Where do you get all this stuff?”

Wang Ang grinned. “I just read a lot as a kid. That’s actually how I got close with Lü Xiangyang—we shared an interest in these things. He loved discussing them with me. There are plenty of stories about Flying Head Barbarians in those supernatural magazines, but as for the real ritual, I’ve got no idea.”

With a sigh, Wang Ang added, “If only Lü Xiangyang were here. He’s braver than me, used to mess with séances by himself. If he were around, he could probably tell you even more. But who knows where he’s disappeared to…”

I shrugged. That’s why I was here—to track down Lü Xiangyang. If I knew where he was now, I wouldn’t still be searching.

Where on earth did Lü Xiangyang go?