Entry 08: Xa Nieng (Xà Niêng)

Excerpt From “Âm Giới Thư - Chapter Of The Abyss Of Dark Souls”

In the deep forests of Núi Cấm, the Thất Sơn An Giang region, people whisper about a wild man species named Xa Nieng.

Their bodies are covered in shaggy fur, two long arms nearly touching the ground, walking hunched like gorillas, but their faces resemble humans to the point of horror.

What makes anyone who encounters them panic to the extreme is their smile.

A long twisted smile, distorted as if torn from one ear to the other, emitting shrill cackling sounds mixed with forest wind whistling through leaves.

People around the area fear Xa Nieng so much that just hearing howls echoing from afar, they quickly stop trapping animals, turn and retreat without daring to take another step.

Some say they do not kill people immediately, but like to play cruel games, chasing victims through thorny bushes until the hunted collapse from exhaustion, then rush forward to bite the neck, drinking fresh blood amid savage laughter echoing.

In the southeastern region, people also call them Meat Eating Orangutans, green forest ghosts with an unquenchable thirst.

Forest goers whisper to each other that if you accidentally encounter them, Xa Nieng will rush forward like a poisonous wind, tightly grabbing the victim’s hand while laughing madly, yellow teeth peeking behind cracked lips.

If you stand frozen from paralyzing fear, it will drag you deep into the forest, and after some time, that person will also transform into another Xa Nieng, wandering with faded memories and eternal hunger.

But if you run away, it will chase relentlessly until caught, biting through the throat, leaving corpses hanging precariously on ancient tree branches like a warning from the realm of the dead.

The ancients feared this species so much that before entering the forest, they often wore two large bamboo tubes on their forearms.

In case of encountering Xa Nieng, just pull out the bamboo tube and throw it away, it will think it is a human hand, grab it tightly and laugh until writhing in pain.

Then they have a chance to escape, blending into darkness before the howl sounds again.

But the truth is, Xa Nieng is not purely a wild beast.

Some whisper that they were originally humans, those who went seeking precious agarwood, chewing herbs until intoxicated, lost in old forests, no longer remembering the way out, forgetting even human speech, forgetting their own names.

They lived wild in the forest, eating raw forest animals, fur growing thick, minds turning mad, finally transforming into those half human half beast wild men, cursed by greed and isolation.

Elders in the region also tell that before going into the forest seeking agarwood, everyone must go to the shrine of Bà Chúa Trầm Hương, the Holy Mother Thiên Y A Na also called Bà Chúa Ngọc, and swear to live and die together, not betray companions.

If anyone dares break the oath, steal agarwood from friends, abandon others mid journey, or kill each other for greedy gain, the Goddess will blind them, making them forever lost in deep forests with no escape.

Not dying immediately, just existing and transforming into Xa Nieng, wandering with nameless pain.

People say on bright moonlit nights, on Núi Cấm slopes, sometimes hearing cackling laughter echoing down from dense forests, that might be the voices of those who were once human, now only remembering how to laugh savagely, but not remembering who they once were.

Howling Echoes From The Dark Forest Depths

Amid dense ancient canopies blocking even the sun, Xa Nieng does not rush to reveal itself but silently lurks at the edge of vision, a hunched shadow moving with faint rustling leaves, looking like a lost gorilla but carrying the pungent breath of raw meat.

It can mimic bird songs or stream sounds to lure tired travelers, with a fake familiarity in the stuffy old forest.

But when victims approach, that shadow will suddenly stand straight up, blooming a long twisted smile with sharp teeth, carrying the stench of old blood and bone piercing cold from long lonely nights.

The howl from it is not a beast’s roar but a distorted laugh, like a curse twisted from the realm of the dead echoing back, telling of lost days never fading, making listeners’ hearts pound, souls shrinking before invisible terror.

The accompanying smell is a pungent mix with the bitter taste of old forest herbs, spreading in musty air, making vision hazy and surrounding air heavy like spiderwebs of rotten leaves, sometimes luring entire groups of Xa Nieng to gather, forming a howling circle blocking paths in the forest, turning familiar trails into mazes leading straight into the abyss of madness.

On crescent moon nights, when mist surges from mountain crevices, wild men often appear densely, their long arms groping like furry spiderwebs, waiting for stray footsteps to set traps, dragging not just bodies but painful memories of countless human lives.

The Curse Of Forest Herbs And Lost Souls

These half human ghosts did not just wander in An Giang’s old forests, they are the legacy of cursed suffering, from greedy agarwood hunting trips where people lost their way amid intoxicating herb bushes, or betrayals of friends under ancient tree canopies.

Resentment from the last breath of those who were once forest workers, invaded by poisonous herbs, solidified into shaggy fur, half real half illusory, wandering seeking replacements to escape the eternal loop in Thất Sơn.

According to folk legends, Xa Nieng is the ghost of those who went into forests hunting animals or chewing herbs seeking agarwood then lost deep, eating raw until deformed, often hiding in Núi Cấm, waiting for careless travelers to spread the curse.

In lands like An Giang or Thất Sơn, where Bà Chúa Ngọc shrine still carries the incense smoke of the past, rumors whisper that each laugh carries the twisted cries for help of hundreds of souls, stuck between the boundary of human and beast, waiting for a fated victim to lure into the spiral of resentment.

Not just from greed, sometimes they are born from the Holy Mother’s curse, where She blinds the faithless, or from murder cases hiding bodies under layers of rotten leaves, turning death into persistent whispers through forest rains.

At shrines along Núi Cấm, where wind carries the musty smell of the past, people still carve warnings on stone, reminding that if you do not swear loyalty before entering the forest, resentment will transform into Xa Nieng, multiplying in darkness, waiting for new victims to fill their own void of madness.

Pain Tearing Apart From Savage Smiles

Encountering Xa Nieng is not just a passing nightmare but a mad curse extending to the next life.

Victims initially feel bone piercing cold spreading from skin, as if furry hands stroke the throat, making breath choke into meaningless stammers.

If that twisted smile comes close, pain will spread like claws tearing, limbs gradually paralyzed, blood clotting in veins, and finally, the soul is sucked away from flesh, lost drifting in the deep abyss of old forests.

Those lucky enough to survive still carry permanent marks: rough skin with scratches like animal fur, hoarse voices like howls, along with horrific dreams where Xa Nieng chases with cackling laughter echoing from darkness.

Moreover, that curse can spread, making victims’ relatives begin hearing strange howls in night winds, or seeing hunched shadows lurking around the house, gradually dragging entire lineages into inescapable loops of resentment.

In villages along Thất Sơn, where mist carries whispers of the past, there are families still telling of ancestors once grabbed by Xa Nieng, and from then on, their descendants must live with persistent fear, staying away from deep forests on moonlit nights, for just one passing laugh can awaken wild men from the deep sleep of leaves.

Secrets To Expel Green Forest Ghosts

Through generations passed down, folk share ancient rituals to push back that horror.

If suspecting the howl is Xa Nieng, do not look straight into its smile, for that gaze will bind your soul into the spiral of madness.

Instead, immediately throw bamboo tubes or handfuls of salt toward the shadow, mouth muttering names of protective gods like Bà Chúa Ngọc or Holy Mother Thiên Y A Na, while scattering fresh herb leaves around yourself, for their bitter taste will make wild men shrink, forcing them to retreat deep into dense forests.

And above all, stay away from agarwood seeking places or herb bushes late at night, where night winds still whisper curses of those who have vanished.

Experienced shamans in An Giang also advise using spells drawn with agarwood ink from precious wood, carved on yellow paper with transcendence prayers, burned so smoke curls away resentment, freeing Xa Nieng souls from the loop of pain.

Or, if daring to face it, shout companion names and swear loyalty before Bà’s shrine, for sacred oaths will dispel the beastly shell, forcing Xa Nieng to reveal its true form and flee before dawn.

Yet, any ritual requires iron courage, for just a moment of hesitation, and that twisted smile will wrap around you, dragging you into the realm of darkness where hoarse howls echo endlessly.

Today, Xa Nieng seems only a faint shadow in stories adults use to scare children, like “going into the forest late, watch out for Xa Nieng’s savage laugh.”

Yet in lands around Núi Cấm, Thất Sơn, there are still old people telling that sometimes, in quiet moonlit nights, cackling laughter echoes from deep forests, and when cold winds blow, that hunched shadow suddenly rushes out from bushes.

That is Xa Nieng, still lurking, still craving, in the endless old forests of the realm of the dead.