Entry 16: Fish Demon (Ngư Tinh)

Excerpt From The Netherworld Book Chapter Of The Abyss Of Yin Souls

The ancients tell that in the northern sea region where wind blows year round sounding like someone crying amid distant mist, there once lived a demon from times when the land had no name yet. People call it Fish Demon. Its body is longer than fifty zhang, black and smooth like oil, tail large as a sail, both sides covered densely with small limbs like centipede legs. Its mouth is large enough to swallow three people at once. Each time it surfaces, heaven and earth pour rain, waves and wind roll into storms, boats shatter like rotten leaves. Fish Demon does not just eat human flesh, it likes the taste of fear, that which makes human blood sweeter. It dwells in a large cave connecting to the sea bottom, where rocky mountains stand vertically dividing the coastal shore in two. Fish Demon once blocked a section of sea, making the passage narrow as a bottle neck. People from both regions wanted to dig through the mountain to avoid the water route, but the rock was hard as demon bone, no one could break it. Once, a Heavenly Deity descended to help the people, but when half the mountain was dug, Fish Demon transformed into a white rooster, flying to the peak and crowing three times. The Heavenly Deity heard the rooster and thought it was a signal from Heaven, hurriedly abandoning the work and flying back to heaven. From then, that mountain still blocks the sea, people later call that place Phat Dao. Then when Lac Long Quan heard the story, angered to the point the sea also stirred waves. The deity forged a solid iron block, drilled holes, heated red as blood, then hid it in the boat’s hold. Night fell, the deity rowed the boat to the demon’s cave, pretending to throw a person as bait. Fish Demon heard movement, surfaced opening its mouth and that glowing red iron block fell straight into its throat. The sea exploded. Waves rose into walls, heaven and earth blurred. Long Quan and Fish Demon fought for three days and three nights. The entire sea region became a pot of boiling water, stinking blood flooding all shores. Finally, Fish Demon fell. The deity chopped its body into three parts: Tail hung drying on an island called Bach Long Vi. Head transformed into a sea dog, the deity killed then threw onto a mountain now called Cau Dau Son. Body drifted far away, people later call it Cau Man Cau. Old people of that region say, nights when the sea turns black as ink, fish washing up dead in droves, that is when Fish Demon’s resentful spirit stirs, still searching for the body parts Long Quan chopped apart long ago.

Resentful Souls From Distant Chaos Times

These giant phantoms do not randomly roll waves in the vast ocean, they are legacies of suffering buried from primordial times, from ancient storms where seas swallowed entire fishing villages, or curses from primitive water demons wandering seeking territory. Resentment from the last breath of the first victims, torn by sharp teeth, congeals into layers of black slimy skin, half real half illusory, wandering beneath the bottom of the northern gulf waiting for lost boats to satisfy eternal thirst. According to Linh Nam Chich Quai, Fish Demon is a giant fish that became a demon, longer than fifty zhang with centipede like legs, hiding in the East Sea, often causing storms to capsize ships and swallow sailors. In places like Quang Ninh or Hai Phong, where ancient relics still carry the salty stench of the past, whispers say each fierce wave carries the distorted roars of thousands of souls, stuck between the boundary of life and death, waiting for a new deity to lure into the whirlpool of resentment. Not just from natural disasters, sometimes they are born from curses of other water demons, where Fish Demons are summoned from deep sea caves, or from shipwreck cases hiding bodies beneath swift currents, turning death into persistent whispers through northeast winds. At temples by Bai Tu Long Bay, where wind carries the moisture of the past, people still carve warnings on stone, reminding that if not properly appeased with correct rituals using sticky rice wine and fresh fish, resentment will transform into Fish Demons, multiplying in storms, waiting for new victims to fill their own giant emptiness.

Giant Form In Night Storm

When dusk dyes the sea surface red, Fish Demon does not rush to surface but silently coils beneath rippling waves, a pitch black long body peeking like a giant cloud shadow drifting across the ocean. It can transform into a fake storm with tail whipping water like torn sails, or strange oil slicks on the sea surface, luring fishermen with fake peace in the muggy coastal region. But when boats approach, that demonic body will suddenly rise, whipping its tail with faint rumbling, carrying the strong stench of fish blood and bone chilling cold seeping into the air. The sound from it is not wave lapping but distant roars, like distorted curses echoing from the netherworld, telling of battles with deities that have never subsided, making listeners’ hearts beat erratically, souls shrinking before invisible terror. The accompanying smell is that putrid stench mixed with the salty bitterness of old resentment, spreading in salty air, making vision blurry and surrounding air heavy as sea bottom, sometimes luring entire groups of small water demons gathering, forming fierce wave networks blocking paths on the open sea, turning familiar routes into mazes leading straight into the abyss. On full moon nights, when mist rolls from deep bays, Fish Demons often appear in full form, their centipede limbs interweaving like pitch black spider webs, waiting for the sound of lost oars to set traps, pulling not just bodies but also painful memories of countless fishermen.

Horror From The Demon’s Mouth

Encountering Fish Demon is not just a passing nightmare but a stinking curse extending into the next life. Victims initially feel bone chilling cold spreading from flesh, as if invisible jaws bite the air, making breath choke into meaningless stammers. If the demonic tail whips boats, pain will spread like death’s scythe, bodies gradually shattered, blood congealing in vessels, and ultimately, the spirit is sucked from the body, lost drifting in the deep abyss of the water palace. Those lucky enough to survive still carry permanent marks: pale skin with scars like centipede teeth, hoarse voices like sea wind, along with horrifying dreams where Fish Demons chase with chuckling roars echoing from beneath water. Moreover, that curse can spread, making victims’ relatives begin to see strange fierce waves around shores late at night, or hear strange tail whipping in wind, gradually pulling entire bloodlines into endless cycles of resentment. In fishing villages by the northern gulf, where waves carry whispers of the past, there are families still telling of ancestors once nearly swallowed by Fish Demons, and from then, their descendants must live with persistent fear, avoiding the open sea on stormy nights, because just a passing breeze can awaken Water Demons from the deep sleep of the sea bottom.

Secrets To Confront Water Demons

Through generations passed down, folk share ancient rituals to repel that horror. If suspecting a storm is Fish Demon, do not look directly at fierce waves, because that gaze will bind your soul into the whirlpool of hatred. Instead, turn the boat bow toward land immediately, mouth murmuring names of protective deities like Lac Long Quan or Son Tinh, while throwing sticky rice wine or fresh live fish into the sea, because their sweet saltiness will distract the Demon, forcing it to retreat deep into rock caves. And above all, stay away from narrow bays or underwater caves late at night, where night wind still whispers curses of those who have passed. Experienced shamans in coastal regions also advise using charms drawn with fish ink from dragon scales, carved on yellow paper with sutras for salvation, burned so smoke carries away resentment, releasing Fish Demon souls from cycles of suffering. Or, if daring to face it, forge an iron block heated red as in legend, throw into the demon’s mouth when it opens, because sacred heat will dispel the immortal shell, forcing Fish Demon to reveal true form and flee before dawn. Yet, no matter which ritual, all require iron courage, because just a moment of hesitation, and those giant jaws will swallow you whole, pulling you into the shadow realm where hoarse roars echo endlessly. Today, Fish Demons seem to only remain faint shadows in stories adults use to scare children, like go out to sea late, watch out for Fish Demons whipping tails. Yet in lands around the northern gulf, there are still old people telling that sometimes, in silent stormy nights, the sea turns black as ink with fish washing up in droves, and when northeast wind blows past, that giant body suddenly surfaces. That is Fish Demon, still wandering, still craving, in the endless ocean of the netherworld.