In July, the air in Penang is so thick you could wring water out of it. Though the scorching heat of the day has faded, the humidity, carried by the sea breeze, still envelops every inch of George Town's old streets. The lamps of street vendors cast a hazy yellow glow in the night, blending with the spiciness of laksa, the charred aroma of satay, and the intense, almost decadent sweetness of some tropical flowers, creating the city's uniquely vibrant nighttime atmosphere.
Lin Xingyun sat on a small stool in front of his family's ancestral "Xinghe Opera Troupe," fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan. The troupe's entrance was small, and the writing on the sign had long been blurred by age and humidity. He had just finished a performance for a neighbor's child's birthday. The audience was a handful, mostly neighbors. Sweat soaked the back of his cotton and linen shirt, sticking clingingly to his skin. "Xingyun, your Hanuman performance was powerful today!" an elderly man selling cendol, passing by with his cart, complimented with a smile.
"Uncle, you're too kind. I just make a living." Lin Xingyun grinned, revealing his white teeth. He was young, perhaps in his early twenties, with delicate features. His skin had a healthy tan from years of traveling for performances. He wiped the sweat from his brow and scanned the bustling streets. Motorcycles roared by, carrying women in brightly colored sarongs; tourists, mobile phones raised, took photos of the colorful arcades left over from the colonial era. In the distance, the faint chanting of the evening prayers from the mosque lingered, long and ethereal, blending strangely with the hustle and bustle of the world.
This is Penang, a melting pot of Chinese, Malay, and Indian cultures, and it's where Lin Xingyun grew up. His family's wayang shadow puppetry, passed down through generations, has gradually declined under the impact of popular culture. Aside from festivals and the curious glances of a few tourists, this art, requiring profound skill, rarely attracts much attention.
He packed up his prop box, which contained his treasured leather shadow figures, mostly depicting gods, heroes, and monsters. Hand-tanned and carved by his grandfather, the textures were intricate, casting powerful shadows under the light. At the bottom of the box, wrapped in old cloth, lay a short sword with a distinctive wavy blade. It was a family heirloom, a kris sword, said to have been brought back from Java by their ancestors. Now, it serves more as a symbolic token of their heritage.
As night deepened, the bustle of the streets remained undiminished. The annual George Town Arts Festival was in full swing, with street artists and musicians showcasing their talents. Lin Xingyun had intended to close his stall early and head to his usual mamak stall (a Muslim-run Indian stall) for a cup of tarik (pulled tea) and a roti chapati (Indian flatbread), but the surging crowd blocked his way.
Just then, the sky suddenly shifted. At first, people thought it was some kind of unusual light show. The northern sky, once a velvety curtain of inky blue, suddenly, a strange, aurora-like halo of brilliance appeared without warning. The halo rapidly expanded, shifting from turquoise to vibrant red, then to an eerie purple, like God's overturned palette, instantly suffusing half the sky.
"Wow! Look! What's that?" the crowd exclaimed, their phones raised.
But soon, wonder turned to unease. The light wasn't static; it cascaded down toward the earth like a flowing waterfall. A strange, sweet, fishy scent filled the air, similar to the fragrance of earth after rain, yet carrying an indescribable, stimulating feeling, like an electric current.
Lin Xingyun's heart skipped a beat, a throbbing throb deep in his blood. He subconsciously clenched a pendant on his chest—a small, ancestral wooden plaque engraved with unknown runes.
An unexpected change! "Roar!"
A roar, unhuman and filled with violence, erupted from the national park on the edge of the city, instantly drowning out all the clamor. The roar held a terrifying power, jarring eardrums and causing even the ground beneath our feet to tremble.
Following it was a continuous chorus of gunfire, terrified screams, and the piercing blare of car alarms. Chaos spread like a plague. The crowd scattered like headless flies, a constant cacophony of shoving, crying, and crashing. The once orderly street art festival had suddenly become a chaotic scene.
Lin Xingyun, swept along by the flow of people, could barely stand. He struggled to squeeze towards the troupe's entrance, hoping to get his precious prop box inside. Through the throng of people, he saw a scene he would never forget:
A giant lizard, immense beyond imagination, was sprinting down the street! It was over five meters long, its scales covering its body reflecting a cold, metallic sheen under the streetlights and the eerie light of the sky. With a casual sweep of its thick tail, parked cars on the roadside were flipped over like toys, with a sharp, twisting sound. Bullets struck it, sending only scattered sparks and leaving faint white marks.
This was no ordinary monitor lizard! Its eyes were crimson, and the saliva dripping from its mouth was highly corrosive, sizzling and emitting white smoke as it fell on the asphalt. Clearly, the strange "rain of light" had not only created a visual spectacle but also triggered some terrifying biological mutation!
"Monster! Run!"
"Help! My child!"
Desperate cries pierced Lin Xingyun's eardrums. He saw a Malay woman clutching a baby fall while fleeing, about to be engulfed by the monitor's approaching shadow.
There was no time for reflection! Lin Xingyun instinctively rushed forward, grabbing the woman and pushing her toward the relative safety of the alleyway. However, this action exposed him to the monitor lizard's sight.
Its cold, murderous pupils instantly locked onto the tiny creature that dared to challenge it. The monitor lizard roared, its limbs exerting force, and pounced forward with a gust of fishy wind!
The shadow of death loomed overhead! Lin Xingyun could clearly smell the hot breath from the monster's mouth, a mixture of blood and decay. His mind went blank, and the instinct for survival drove him backward. He stumbled and knocked open the half-closed wooden door of the "Xinghe Opera Troupe" and fell into the dim interior.
The troupe still remained in the mess after the performance. The white curtains had not yet been drawn, and the oil lamps used for the performances (nowadays, electric lights were often used to simulate them) were still burning, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The giant lizard clearly had no intention of letting him go. Its massive head smashed through the door frame, sending half its body tumbling through the rubble and wood chips. Its bloody maw was less than three meters from Lin Xingyun!
There was no way to retreat! Behind him was the cold wall, and beside him lay a scattered box of shadow puppet props. In despair, Lin Xingyun's eyes fell on the familiar "Monkey God Hanuman" puppet hanging next to the curtain. Perhaps it was the desperate situation that unleashed his potential, or perhaps it was the strange energy in the air that was at work, but an inspiration struck him, and almost by muscle memory, his hands began to dance rapidly!
He didn't reach for the puppet. Instead, he used his hands to imitate the puppet's manipulation gestures in front of the light. Within him, the heat that had been stirring ever since the unusual celestial phenomena suddenly surged uncontrollably into his arms like a flood, gathering at his fingertips!
Something miraculous happened!
Under the light, the shadows cast by his hands on the screen were no longer simple hand shadows. Instead, they seemed infused with life, rapidly twisting, distorting, and expanding! It unexpectedly transformed into the solid, majestic, and faintly golden shadow of "Monkey God Hanuman"! This shadow was vivid and lifelike, identical to the image in his family's shadow puppetry, yet imbued with an indescribable agility and power!
"Go!" Lin Xingyun himself didn't know why he shouted this, as if it were an ancient ritual command.
The golden monkey shadow on the screen let out a silent roar (which Lin Xingyun could clearly "hear" mentally), suddenly "peeling" from the screen, transforming into a faint golden stream of light. It didn't rush towards the monitor lizard's physical form, but like a ghost, it instantly disappeared into the distorted, vast shadow cast by the monitor lizard under the light!
The monitor lizard, about to pounce, froze! Its red eyes instantly lost their fierce gleam, replaced by a look of extreme fear and pain. It let out a wail even more shrill than before, but noticeably weaker, as its massive body began to twitch and tremble violently.
An even more horrifying scene unfolded: the monitor lizard's body, as if its flesh and blood were being rapidly drained by some invisible force, withered at a visible speed! Its tough scales lost their luster and became loose and wrinkled. In just a few breaths, the beast, so ferocious just moments ago, was reduced to a scaly, dried-up corpse. With a loud thud, it collapsed to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.
Everything happened so quickly, like an illusion.
Silence returned to the troupe, leaving only Lin Xingyun's heavy breathing and the faint sounds of chaos coming from outside. He collapsed to the ground, drenched in cold sweat, staring at his hands in disbelief. His fingertips still seemed to linger with a strange burning sensation, and an indescribable lingering sensation, as if he were controlling some invisible force.
The fishy-sweet smell in the air seemed to grow stronger. He struggled to his feet and cautiously approached the corpse. At the heart of the giant lizard, a translucent crystal, roughly the size of an egg, shaped like an irregular polyhedron, with a hazy aura swirling within, quietly emanated a faint glow.
Lin Xingyun hesitated for a moment, then reached out to pick up the crystal. It felt warm, not cold at all, like a piece of warm jade. Even more strange, the moment he grasped this "spiritual core," the heat within him seemed to be drawn in, flowing more smoothly. At the same time, an old, hazy voice, as if transcending endless time and space, echoed directly from the depths of his mind:
"The tide of spiritual energy... surges once more... The ways of the sorcerers... remain undiminished... Those who hold the token... become the seeds of the sea of stars..."
The voice was intermittent, imbued with an indescribable sense of antiquity and vicissitudes. Lin Xingyun's heart trembled violently, and he instinctively reached for his waist—there, wrapped in old cloth, was his heirloom Kris dagger, emitting a distinct, synchronized warmth.
Just then, a flurry of hurried footsteps approached from afar. A group of heavily armed soldiers rushed to the troupe's entrance, led by a middle-aged officer whose epaulettes indicated he was of high rank. Seeing the mummified corpse of the giant lizard inside and Lin Xingyun standing amidst the ruins, clutching a strange crystal, they all expressed extreme shock.
The middle-aged officer, General Zheng, had a hawk-like gaze. He waved his hand to stop his men and took a few steps forward. His gaze shifted from the corpse to Lin Xingyun's face, finally resting on the still-glowing spirit core in his hand. The shock in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by a complex mix of emotions—inquiry, solemnity, and a hint of... barely perceptible anticipation. He spoke in a deep voice, steady as a soldier, yet a hint of hoarseness could not be concealed: "Young man, what just happened here...? How did you do it?"
Lin Xingyun raised his head, looked at the uninvited guest, then glanced at the spirit core in his hand and the dagger at his waist. He knew that from this night on, his peaceful life was completely over. A new world filled with unknowns and dangers, yet also holding infinite possibilities, opened its doors to him, accompanied by that strange spiritual rain. Penang's tropical nights were no longer just about food, art, and leisure; they also held secrets from ancient times and the sea of stars.
(End of Chapter 1)