Chapter Sixty-One: The Butcher of Dogs

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When I awoke, the night was deep and silent.

“Dear patrons, please prepare to settle your bills. We’re closing the second-floor lounge, so if you’d like to continue relaxing, kindly proceed to the bath area,” came a reminder from the attendant outside our door. Startled awake, Lao Liao and I hurriedly paid and rushed out of the establishment.

In the distance, I spotted a familiar figure heading toward the alley behind the building.

The night grew darker as we drew closer. A dog’s bark rang out, and we saw a small, pure-white dog approach Hu Sandao, rubbing affectionately against his trouser leg.

With a flick of his leg, Hu Sandao bent down, grabbed a stone from the ground, and hurled it fiercely at the little dog.

“Damn you, filthy thing,” he muttered, his words barely audible, mingling with the dog’s whimper as he pushed open the door to the factory behind.

Stunned by his brutality, Lao Liao and I watched the figure disappear, then quickly followed.

“Lao Liao, didn’t Hu say he loved dogs? Did you see that? He was merciless,” I whispered.

Lao Liao grunted, his voice low. “Let’s follow him and see what’s going on.”

We crept after him.

The moon was shrouded, the wind sharp, stray cats howling in the distance.

This factory was quite large. On the left was the kennel, used for raising meat dogs; on the right, the slaughtering area, where butchering and skinning took place.

The moment we entered, a heavy stench of blood assaulted us, punctuated by the occasional barking from the breeding area.

“There’s something wrong with this place. Too much resentment lingers here,” Lao Liao muttered, squatting down to examine the floor. Years of spilled blood had left dark red stains seeping into the earth.

The factory was eerily silent; not even a dog barked now. The quiet was suffocating.

Suddenly, curses broke the silence from the slaughtering area, mingled with the crashing of heavy objects.

“Damn you, filthy beast! Running wild, I’ll beat you to death!”

“They should’ve kept them on leashes—serves them right. Skin them, make them into food!”

It sounded like several men were berating something. Lao Liao and I crept closer, soon able to make out the faint whimpering from inside.

Peeking through the doorway, we saw two or three men beating and kicking a little black dog. Its back was already wounded, blood trickling from its nose. Under their heavy boots, the dog could only whimper in pain.

Just then, one man picked up a massive hammer from the table, dragging its long handle toward the dog. The hammer’s head scraped the floor with a piercing screech. The dog seemed to sense the danger and tried to retreat, but its injured leg made it move painfully slow.

I clenched my fists. As for eating dog meat, I considered myself clear-minded: if the animal was bred as food, like farmed crocodiles or snakes, and raised for that purpose, I didn’t object. But to steal or rob another’s household companion—such acts were infuriating. I rolled up my sleeves, ready to charge in and stop them.

Just then, a large hand gripped my shoulder tightly, sending a jolt of pain through me.

I turned to see the towering Hu Sandao, one hand gripping me, the other Lao Liao, his face twisted into a sinister expression.

“Well, gentlemen, what brings you here?”

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His words came through gritted teeth. I stared at Hu Sandao, sensing a surge of cruelty in his demeanor.

“What are you doing here? You want me to get rough?” he repeated, eyes narrowed, teeth clenched, a far cry from his hospitable persona during the day. He looked ready to attack at any moment.

“Have you seen a small yellow dog?” I blurted out, desperate, fearing things might get much worse if I didn’t answer quickly.

Hu Sandao abruptly released our shoulders, leaving us rubbing them in pain.

He shoved us inside, startling the workers. Some gripped hammers, others knives, all glaring at us with hostility.

My heart pounded. We’d witnessed them abusing dogs—if this went public, the dog meat restaurant would be finished. Surely, they wouldn’t silence us for good...?

Thankfully, Hu Sandao said nothing more, simply sat down, and lit a cigarette.

“Yellow dogs? I’ve got plenty. You can check the skinned pelts in the back. If it was here, it’s probably in someone’s stomach by now,” he said with the air of a butcher, infuriating me further.

“You bastard, what right do you have to take people’s pets and guard dogs and slaughter them? How is this any different from theft and murder?”

Hu Sandao ignored my outburst, signaling his men to return to their work.

The workers still eyed us with suspicion. A skinny one passing by muttered under his breath, “Kid, if you dare breathe a word, you’re dead. I’ll kill you.”

I’d been toughened by years on the street after high school. His threat didn’t scare me. I spat at him.

He looked ready to retaliate but, catching Hu Sandao’s stern gaze, thought better of it and slunk away.

“You ask why I beat and kill dogs? Dogs are animals, understand? Animals! And those who can’t keep their own dogs leashed—they’re worse than animals! These creatures deserve to die. I’m helping society by getting rid of them, understand?” Hu Sandao’s voice rose, pounding the table as he raged.

His words stunned me. I’d sensed his hostility toward dogs, but never imagined it ran so deep.

“Boss Hu, you’re not just any butcher. You’re a dog butcher now,” Lao Liao remarked, ignoring Hu Sandao’s rant, settling into a seat across from him, eyes fixed on the man.

“Dog butcher?” Hu Sandao didn’t seem to grasp the term. I looked to Lao Liao, puzzled.

“There was a great general in ancient times named Bai Qi, who buried four hundred thousand soldiers alive. He was called the Human Butcher. Later, in some dynasties, executioners who killed a hundred people were also given the title Human Butcher—a dubious honor bestowed by emperors and royalty. But such souls, once in the underworld, suffer terrible torment, rarely reincarnated easily. Dog Butcher is the same idea. I suppose you’ve slaughtered over a hundred dogs by now. You’ll suffer for it in the next world.”

This didn’t intimidate Hu Sandao; he burst out laughing.

“Hah! Dog or ghost, I’d chop them up all the same. Don’t talk to me about hell and spirits. Dogs like these all deserve to die. I’m ridding the world of filth!”

He propped his elbows on the table, chin in hand, watching us with a mocking interest, as if waiting to see what else we might try.

Seeing that Lao Liao’s words didn’t shake him, I thought of something.

“Boss Hu, have you seen a yellow dog with a tuft of black fur on one paw?”

At this, Hu Sandao slammed the table and sprang to his feet.

“What did you say? Where did you see it?”

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“Why, it’s standing right at your factory door,” I replied, pointing outside.

There at the entrance stood a yellow dog, its fur gleaming, gazing into the factory and whimpering.

The moment Hu Sandao saw it, he snatched up the cleaver from the table and strode out, muttering to himself, “Damn it, this cursed beast. This is unnatural—I killed it myself, how can it still be here? I’ll chop you to pieces this time!”

Lao Liao and I hurried after him. Hu Sandao brandished the cleaver as he stepped outside, but the yellow dog, unfazed by the weapon, ran straight toward him.

He gritted his teeth, his face twitching as if confronting a mortal enemy, swinging the cleaver at the dog.

Once, twice, three times.

Yet instead of the expected blood and howling, the blade passed right through the dog’s body. The dog seemed unbothered, pressing its head against Hu Sandao’s trousers.

Hu Sandao, as if possessed, squatted and swung the cleaver at the yellow dog’s figure again and again—a dozen times or more. His movements slowed, his angry shouts dissolving into choked, sobbing wails.

“You filthy beast, how could you? Give her back to me! Give her back!”

This burly man, nearly two meters tall, collapsed to the ground, hugging his head and weeping like a child, his cries echoing in the night.

Lao Liao and I exchanged glances—was this yellow dog a ghost?

Was this the spirit that had possessed Huanhuan?

The dog seemed to sense our gaze, its eyes wise and sorrowful, lifting its head to whine softly at us.

Lao Liao quickly stepped forward, helping Hu Sandao to his feet and guiding him back into the factory.

The yellow dog followed, tail wagging, worry etched across its face. Yet as it reached the threshold, it refused to enter, no matter what.

Lao Liao watched as the dog paced in circles at the door, barking now and then.

“Too many dogs have died here. The evil energy is too strong—no dog spirit can enter,” he observed.

So the three of us went inside, leaving the spirit of the yellow dog standing at the entrance, gazing in.

Hu Sandao’s agitation grew until he fainted dead away. With effort, Lao Liao and I carried him to a bench and laid him down.

Ten minutes later, the dog spirit still waited outside when Hu Sandao finally awoke.

“Boss Hu, people say you once loved dogs. What happened to change you so completely?”

This time, Hu Sandao’s demeanor was neither aggressive nor unreasonable. He unscrewed a bottle of mineral water, downed it in one gulp, and frowned deeply, staring at the dog spirit outside, his eyes filled with helpless sorrow. His voice trembled as he grew emotional. “Loved dogs? What good did that do? My wife died by the jaws of that yellow dog. From that day on, I swore to kill every stray beast I could find, to skin them, boil them, and see their kind suffer as they made me suffer!”