The Legend of the Eight Precepts of Journey to the West

In the immortal realm, at the foot of Fuling Mountain, the evening sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues. The village was alive with the gentle sounds of rural life – children playing, old men chatting, and wisps of cooking smoke rising from humble homes. It was a scene of perfect tranquility.

Then, a woman's shriek tore through the air. “Monsters!” she screamed, pointing a trembling finger. All eyes followed her gaze to a small piglet, barely a month old, scurrying out of a pigsty on just two hind hooves, clutching a brightly colored rake with its front ones.

Chaos erupted. Villagers, armed with shovels and kitchen knives, surged forward, determined to put an end to this bizarre, two-legged creature before it grew into a greater threat. The piglet, however, was surprisingly nimble, kicking its tiny hooves and darting away from the pursuing crowd, leaving the exhausted farmers in its dust. It was a desperate flight for survival, a chase that would forever alter the course of one small pig's destiny.