Old Man An, from Changshan, was fond of farming. This autumn brought a bountiful harvest, the buckwheat in the fields ripe and gathered into piles.

In those days, bandits from a neighboring village often stole grain. To guard against them, Old Man An commanded his tenant farmers to move the harvested buckwheat back to the threshing ground overnight. Since the volume was immense, they couldn't move it all at once. For security, the old man grasped a steel pitchfork, resolved to sleep rough in the fields, keeping watch and patrolling himself.

He had barely drifted off around midnight when he was jarred awake by a distinct crunch-crunch sound—the noise of leather boots treading on buckwheat. A suspicion struck him: "Not good, the grain thieves are here." With that thought, he instantly shot upright, gripping the pitchfork tightly, and peered into the darkness all around.

Not far off, he saw a colossal apparition standing there—a towering demon, over ten feet tall, with a head full of fiery red hair and a beard so thick and long it seemed a tangled bush. It stood mere feet away from him. Greatly alarmed, he had no time for careful thought. The steel pitchfork in his hand struck out like lightning, burying itself deep into the fiend’s chest.

The demon let out a shriek—a sound like rolling thunder—and fled in panic, vanishing in the blink of an eye. Old Man An had narrowly driven off the formidable foe, but his heart remained unsettled, fearing the demon might return. He dared not linger, hurrying back home. On the way, he encountered tenants coming to haul more grain and urgently warned them: "There is a ghost in the fields; do not go near." The tenants paid him no mind, but since the master had given an order and they wouldn't have to work, they were happy enough to rest and turned back with Old Man An.

At noon the next day, the tenants were spreading the buckwheat to dry in the sun on the threshing floor when a deep rumbling shook the air. Old Man An's face changed drastically. He shouted, "Bad luck! The demon is back!" Before he finished speaking, he spun around and bolted, the tenants fleeing with him to save their lives.

Once they reached a safe location, Old Man An declared, "Everyone listen to my orders: prepare plenty of bows and crossbows! The demon will surely return tomorrow. When it does, we will loose a thousand arrows and show it what we're made of."

True to form, the demon appeared punctually the next day. At Old Man An’s command, a storm of arrows rained down from the sky. Frightened, the demon retreated in disarray. For the next two or three days, the demon was thoroughly scared off and dared not show itself. Old Man An seized the opportunity to dry the remaining buckwheat, quickly finishing his farm work. What remained were piles of straw stalks, which he wasn't sure how to dispose of.

Old Man An paused for a moment in contemplation, then ordered the tenants to stack the straw into rick-sized stooks, creating neat hay piles to feed the horses and cattle in winter and to use for cooking fires. He then climbed atop the highest stack, treading down the straw stalks until they were firm. Having seen to everything, Old Man An sat upon the hay pile to rest, gazing out at the distant scenery, taking a few puffs from his pipe while he was at it.

While he was enjoying this quiet contentment, the demon unexpectedly returned, moving with blurring speed, swooping down on him like a bolt of lightning. Old Man An screamed, "Shoot the arrows! Shoot the arrows quickly!"

The tenants scrambled frantically, searching for their bows and crossbows, but the demon had already seized Old Man An by the collar of his coat and taken a bite out of his forehead. Then, with a cold, mocking laugh, it drifted away.

The tenants were overcome with fear and panic. A few of the braver ones climbed the rick to investigate. They saw that on Old Man An's forehead was a gaping, palm-sized hole, deep enough to expose bone. Blood welled and streamed out, and his eyes were wide open; it was clear he was dead.