Portraits

影神图

This book is bound by:

Black Myth: Wukong is a game by Game Science, published in 2024. This is a collection of the in-game journal entries. This is a fan project and for personal use only; no profits are made from this typeset.

Journal entries provided by https://blackmythwukong.fandom.com/ Journal portraits taken from Black Myth: Wukong

Typeset by EggFriedPenguin in Berlin, Germany 2024

Yaoguai Chief (From Chapter 1-3 of the game)

第一、二、三章节中出现的头目

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Bullguard

牯护院

Majestic of height, he looms with might,

In heavy armor, ready to fight.

His eyes-a fearsome, vacant lot,

A sage or fool, we know not.

Being the gatekeeper of the mountain was a thankless task indeed. For more than a century, Bullguard stood watch, never once climbing the ranks. Yet he voiced no grievances, for his devotion to the king as his sole concern, and the king's pills, his only desire. he treasured those pills within a lacquered box of pear wood, lined with silk. Each time he partook of them, he performed a ritual: a process of cleansing, rinsing, and offering incense to the universe, thanking it for its gifts. Many a lesser guai had tasted the king's rewards, but none with such reverence as Bullguard.

One day, a curious guai inquired, "How do you maintain such vigor despite the toils of this job?" With earnest simplicity, Bullguard replied, "It is the king's pill that fuels me. Take more, and you shall be as I am." The guai confessed, "We've partaken in our share, yet felt nothing. Mayhaps the king's gifts to you are finer?" Bullguard was aghast, "From the same hand we are served, how could there be a 'mine' and 'yours'?" The guai still skeptical, insisted on an exchange of pills. Soon after, the guai felt no change, while Bullguard remained as robust as ever.

Some say, "A fool's luck", but perhaps it isn't a lack of wit that's compensated, but the power drawn from blind devotion.

Guangzhi

广智

To prove his worth, he gave sinister advice,

Yet reaped the bitter fruits of his own vice.

Though justice remains silent, it never sleeps,

And when it strikes, no one escapes its reach.

In his youth, Guangzhi was not a monk but a little wolf guai who yearned to be human.

He often took human shape to play in town, but the people always saw through him and chased him away. When he asked the other yaoguais why, they explained, "You may look like them, but you don't act like them. That's why they know. If you want to learn to be human, go live among them. Spend time with them to learn their ways and manners." He took this advice to heart and begged his master to grant this wish. His master, old Lingxuzi, who was close to he Black Bear Guai in the mountain, agreed. The Black Bear Guai transformed the pup into a little monk and sent him to study under Elder Jinchi, an old friend.

At first, the fellow monks disliked him. They played tricks on him, and he always fell for it, slow and gullible as he was. Jinchi named him Guangzhi, "the Great Wisdom", hoping he would grow clever and sharp, so his fellow monks couldn't bully him. With Jinchi's care and teaching, Guangzhi learned to read, write, and abide by the monastic rules. Gradually, he assimilated into their ranks.

One day, two monks arrived at the temple. One had a fair, devout countenance, while the other had a face covered in fur. They possessed a wondrous treasure: the Kasaya of Eversparks. Jinchi had never seen anything like it before and longed for it desperately. Hoping to repay Jinchi's teachings and nurturing, Guangzhi devised a plan to acquire it for him.

Guangzhi never imagined his mistake would ignite red tides of flames that engulfed the temple he called home. Afterward, Jinchi took his own life, and Lingxuzi fell to the Jingubang. Even the Black bear Guai surrendered and was taken by Guanyin. Guangzhi saw how many had suffered for his sake, and knew he had failed utterly at being human. he shed his monk robes and retreated to the mountains, repenting with Jinchi's teachings.

In his years of practice in the mountains, he forged a new weapon inspired by the raging flames he saw that night. he named it "the Red Tides". Even to this day, after numerous years, he continues to hear a persistent call echoing through the mountains: "Guangzhi, Guangzhi!" Who could it be that keeps calling him?

 Baw-Li-Guhh-Lang

波里个浪

Wrinkles on his skin so snug,

A whiff of air, a fishy hug.

Legs that spring to heights above,

From the dirt and muck they love.

In the lands west of Black Wind Mountain, within a kingdom named Hhami, stood a small town. Every day before dawn, a humble market would gather just outside the town gate. It was a place where peddlers exchanged goods while waiting for the gate to open, but due to the prices, even the townsfolk began to participate. Thus, this market gradually gained its reputation.

A few months ago, an odd oil peddler arrived at the market. Garbed in robes of a pearly turqoise color and with eyes that gleamed like copper bells. he had a voice that rang out with a boom, and his breath was foul and pungent. Yet, he happened to be a keen talker and naturally was disliked by everyone. The oil he produces, on the other hand, was sought after by everyone. Who would not prefer the oil clear and smooth, and not to mention its price: one could exchange but a pinch of fragrant powder for a large gourd of such oil.

One day, a wandering Daoist passed through the town and decided to visit the market. he enjoyed his experience until he sensed an eerie green mist emanating from that old peddler-a guai, no doubt. The monk chanted, and before the peddler could manage a decent struggle, it revealed its true form-a green skinned giant frog.

The bystanders were startled and grabbed whatever they could use to attack. The frog kicked the ground with both legs, leaped higher than a tree, and swiftly fled toward the mountains. In pursuit, the folks arrived at the marshes, where they witnessed countless small frogs scrapping mucus from each other's bodies, collecting it in a large barrel. They then applied fragrant powder to themselves, hugging and sniffing each other in sheer delight.

Silently, the people approached and peered into the barrel. The mucus inside gleamed with clarity, just like the oil they had favored. At the sight, they were occupied by bouts of nausea and began to vomit. None had the strength to pursue and kill guais. All the frogs noticed this and hastily fled, leaving the marshes filled with a rather unique scene.

Guangmou

广谋

With a monk's facade but a serpent's heart,

He wields deceit, playing many parts.

His desires shift, insatiably pursued,

Faithless to his master, all teachings he eschewed.

Guangmou, "the Great Tactician", was not like his senior fellow pupil Guangzhi. From a young age, His heart yearned to be a legendary yaoguai master, remembered for ages.

But fate had other plans. When old Lingxuzi sent his beloved disciple to Guanyin Temple to be a monk, old White Snake Guai grew worried. The snake feared it was old Lingxuzi's ploy to win favor with the Black Bear Guai, and commanded Guangmou to join the monkhood as well.

Before he left, the snake warned him: never fall behind, least of all behind Guangzhi. But no matter how hard Guangmou tried, Elder Jinchi never seemed to favor him as much as Guangzhi, even when he learned faster and trained harder. Guangmou consoled himself, believing this stemmed not from his own failings, but from the snake's ham-fisted meddling, which had turned the Elder against him. He found solace in the notion of returning to the mountains one day, when he could embrace his yaoguai nature, unshackled by such trivial concerns.

Guangmou can still recall Jinchi's teachings: "You can be too extreme, too uncompromising. Always leave some room and some things unfinished." But the day Jinchi saw the Kasaya of Eversparks, he desired it so intensely that he forgot his own words and wept long into the night. Guangmou saw the thought taking root in the old monk's heart: to kill for this prize. Everyone shied away from the idea, but Guangzhi boldly spoke the truth.

Guangmou seethed with inexplicable rage. In his mind, a scheme within a scheme began to take shape. As Elder Jinchi drank tea with the two monks, Guangmou glimpsed an untamed malice in the monkey's eyes—a hunger for vengeance. Building on Guangzhi's gambit, Guangmou goaded and prodded, weaving a merciless plot that left no room for escape. The old monk was delighted, and for the first time, he acknowledged Guangmou's wit. 

With his plan set, Guangmou knew that doom would strike that night. Summoning a gust of wind, he hid in the bamboo grove behind the mountain. As anticipated, a great fire broke out that night. But it failed to kill the two journeying monks as intended. Instead, it burned the entire temple to the ground.

Alas, the world harbors such petty souls, capable of ensnaring the lofty and vanquishing them with cunning plots. Perhaps this is what is meant by "slaying with a borrowed blade."

Lang-Li-Guhh-Baw

浪里个波

With swollen belly, strange skills arise,

A frog's croaks can summon thunder's cries,

No loong needed to call the breeze,

In shallow waters, frogs' songs please.

Here we must speak once more of that wandering Daoist. He passed through the Kingdom of Hhami, and ever since his encounter with the frog guai, he had made it his mission to hunt such guais. Far and wide, he sought their traces.

On a day he came unto a valley where croaks echoed, crackling with eerie flashes. Joy rose in his heart, and he hastened to the riverbank. There, he set up a makeshift altar to subdue the yaoguai in the river. Incense and candles were lit for the offerings; then, with his cap removed and hair unloosed, the Daoist traced the three seals of power with vermeil cinnabar and drew the banishing sword. He mumbled and muttered the spells he knew.

Then his roar shook the air: "Thus be Lord Lao's decree!" With a flash of his sword, he snatched up a seal and flung it skyward. A plume of flame flared and vanished. The frog guai in the valley, startled by this commotion, sprang from the water - a great yellow frog clad in hues between green and blue, different from the last.

The Daoist, seeing the yaoguai spring forth, swiftly lifted a second seal. It flared up in a trice, and a raging wind followed. As the third seal caught light, pealing thunder cracked from the lowering clouds. Both the Daoist and the yaoguai were startled, hands flying to their heads. As silence fell, they looked up to see trees blasted and split, while the storm above broke and scattered.

The Daoist froze, then scrambled to ready his brush for three more seals. The frog guai, unhurried, drummed its belly. The sky stood unchanged, but with each stroke, a dozen shafts of golden light lanced down, each striking close around the Daoist.

Tumbling and rolling, the Daoist could scarcely evade the beams of light. Then the frog guai gaped its maw and spat out a swarm of electrifying tadpoles. No matter how the Daoist dodged, they pursued him relentlessly until he fled in utter rout.

Alas, in matters of renown, it is common to judge power by the intricacy and grandeur of one's methods. There might be some wisdom in that.

Earth Wolf

地狼

On moonless nights with winds that cry,

The time for debts and vengeance nigh,

In kind yaoguais, place your trust,

But wicked souls, you must defy.

There was once a general's son who served as a drill master in the barracks. Cruel and ruthless he was, and the soldiers trembled at his commands. Yet, out of respect for the general, they bore their resentment in silence. 

The drill master, who had a passion for hunting, kept a Chinese Xigou, a slender hound. One day, he went hunting with several instructors but returned empty-handed, much to his shame. He blamed the innocent hound for their failure and had it beaten to death.