Meanwhile, back at the villa, Ashy sat comfortably on her perch, preening her feathers with utmost satisfaction. She tilted her head ever so slightly, recalling the glorious string of curses she had unleashed upon the unfortunate young master before his unexpected makeover.
Daoist Chu, lounging nearby with a cup of wine in hand, had been listening with great amusement.
"Go on, tell me what you said to him last," he asked, grinning in anticipation.
Ashy puffed up her chest and declared, "Your brain is emptier than a beggar's rice bowl at the end of winter, you flea-ridden dung beetle! May all your future meals taste like donkey piss and regret! May your lineage be cursed with toenail fungus so vile it forms its own demonic sect! May your ancestors rise from their graves just to slap you for existing! And may you forever step on unseen puddles in your socks!"
She let out a satisfied chirp before closing her eyes, her work complete.
