Encountering a Snake - Chapter 29

V3C29

 

Xu Mingshi left with just this one cryptic remark. Liu Yan, unable to think of a reason to stop him, pointed to Shen Jue and instructed him to accompany Xu. Though it was early spring and Xu Mingshi, now freed from heavy winter clothes, seemed in good spirits, he was ultimately an elderly man in his seventies. Liu Yan couldn’t rest easy letting such an old man travel alone.

 

Shen Jue, without much comment, quickly packed his belongings and followed Xu on the journey.

 

Xu Mingshi initially appeared reluctant to have Shen Jue accompany him but, in the end, merely opened his mouth without voicing his objections. He was old, after all, and afraid of meeting some mishap on the road. Having a young man at his side gave him a sense of reassurance. Yet, he still refused to reveal their destination. Along the way, he remained silent, his brow tightly furrowed, clearly preoccupied. Since Xu was unwilling to speak, Shen Jue refrained from asking questions, quietly walking beside him as if he didn’t exist.

 

They pushed forward at a brisk pace, covering five hundred li by nightfall. Shen Jue’s stamina could have carried them farther, but Xu Mingshi was evidently struggling. Though he used spells to maintain a steady pace throughout the day, he now looked pale and was drenched in sweat.

 

Stopping in the wilderness as night descended, Shen Jue surveyed their surroundings. Something about the scenery felt familiar. After a moment of contemplation, he headed eastward. About three li down a winding path, through a patch of wheat fields, Shen Jue came upon a small temple, just as he had expected. He quickly returned to Xu Mingshi and said, “I’ve found a place to stay for the night. Let’s rest there.”

 

Xu Mingshi nodded and followed him into the temple.

 

The temple was small and modest but clean. Offerings of fruit were laid before the clay idols, and the ever-burning lamp provided a constant glow. A young monk tending to the incense turned at the sound of their footsteps. Seeing the visitors, he pressed his palms together and greeted them, “Peace be upon you, benefactors.”

 

Shen Jue replied, “We seek shelter for the night and will leave at dawn.”

 

The young monk said, “That is no trouble,” then added, “There is simple food available, though it may be plain. If you don’t mind, it can ease your hunger.”

 

Shen Jue bowed in thanks. “Thank you, little master. We’d appreciate it.”

 

The monk nodded and went to prepare the meal.

 

Shen Jue stood before the idol for a moment, then turned to Xu Mingshi and asked, “Can you guess who this is?”

 

Xu Mingshi, weary and drowsy, opened his eyes and glanced at the idol. At first glance, it seemed unfamiliar, but upon closer inspection, something about it felt oddly recognizable. After staring for a while, Xu suddenly widened his eyes, his drowsiness vanishing. “Huh! Isn’t this Old Snake?!”

 

Shen Jue pointed to another clay figure on the left. “And this one?”

 

Stunned, Xu Mingshi quickly recognized it as well. “You and your father—how did you end up being worshipped?”

 

Shen Jue walked over, took out a water pouch from his pack, and handed it to Xu before explaining, “They’ve been worshipping us for some years now.”

 

Seeing the curiosity on Xu Mingshi’s face, Shen Jue elaborated. Though they were demons, they had saved many lives. Particularly after Shen Qingxuan’s death, when Shen Jue and his father Yi Mo had wandered the mortal world in search of Ji Jiu. Along the way, Yi Mo often had Shen Jue help those in distress, hoping to cultivate merit. Being worshipped as deities wasn’t all that surprising.

 

The land beneath their feet had suffered catastrophic floods two hundred years ago. At the time, Yi Mo and Shen Jue passed through the area and were met with scenes of devastation. Murky floodwaters carried corpses downstream, piling them into grotesque mounds, while those still alive clung desperately to survival amidst the wreckage. Local officials and landowners had tried to rescue victims, but landslides caused by heavy rains swept many would-be rescuers to their deaths. It was a hellish scene.

 

Unable to bear it, Yi Mo, braving the torrential rain, had his son assist him in rescuing those trapped in the mudslide and recovering the dead. The father and son duo worked tirelessly until the local authorities and wealthy families managed to stabilize the situation. Only then did they leave.

 

After their departure, the survivors, in gratitude, built a temple to honor them. Pooling their resources, they hired a skilled painter from a neighboring village to create portraits of Yi Mo and Shen Jue based on eyewitness accounts. These images were then used to sculpt clay idols, which were installed in the temple and worshipped ever since.

 

After listening to the story, Xu Mingshi stroked his beard and chuckled. “Did they know you were demons?”

 

Shen Jue replied, “How else could we have saved them without using spells? They naturally saw us using magic. At first, they thought we were gods, but Father made sure to tell them we were demons.”

 

Xu Mingshi sat in stunned silence for a moment before suddenly sharing, “Once, I was in a hurry to return to my sect. Traveling at night, I lost track of time and used a spell to speed up my journey. By morning, I looked back and realized I had overshot my destination by three hundred li!”

 

After this anecdote, Xu said, “I’ve often thought of myself as impulsive and reckless, but it seems you and your father outmatch me.”

 

Indeed, saving lives and then openly admitting to being demons—how much more reckless could one get? What if human nature had turned ugly and, instead of gratitude, the villagers had accused them of bringing bad luck or calamity with their demonic presence?

 

Shen Jue remarked, “Why bother thinking about it? Once we saved them, their lives had nothing more to do with us.”

 

Xu Mingshi agreed. “True. I’ve spent too much time among mortals, letting worldly concerns cloud my mind. I’ve grown too concerned with reputation and shame. How shameful.”

 

As the two chatted, the young monk returned, drawing back a curtain and carrying a tray with steamed buns, a plate of vegetables, and a plate of tofu. He said, “It’s simple fare, but I hope it suffices.”

 

“This is more than enough,” Xu Mingshi said. “Thank you.”

 

When the monk left to resume his chanting, Xu Mingshi listened to the sound of the wooden fish and quietly asked Shen Jue, “What’s the story with that monk?”

 

“How would I know?” Shen Jue replied. “This is only my second time here. He probably passed by, found the temple serene and empty, and decided to stay and cultivate here.”

 

Such things weren’t uncommon, so Xu Mingshi asked no more.

 

Shen Jue, however, asked, “Where exactly are you heading on this westward journey?”

 

“To find my master,” Xu Mingshi replied, then fell silent again.

 

Seeing this, Shen Jue didn’t press further.

 

After watching Xu Mingshi finish his meal and fall asleep, Shen Jue found his thoughts wandering back to Liu Yan. Was Liu Yan eating properly? Did he remember to boil water? Such worries tugged at his mind until he eventually dismissed them as useless and focused on meditation, breathing steadily to refresh himself for the next day’s journey. Only while traveling did he remember to cultivate, viewing it as a way to replenish his energy and dispel impurities. At home, he nearly forgot he was a demon at all.

 

The next morning, they bid farewell to the young monk and set out again. Xu Mingshi moved even more slowly than the day before, prompting Shen Jue to frown. “You won’t say where we’re going. If it’s far, how will we get there at this pace? Let me carry you.”

 

Xu Mingshi nearly leapt in indignation, retorting, “I don’t need you to carry me!”

 

After saying that, he turned and walked away. This time, feeling indignant, he quickened his pace but soon exhausted his energy. Although he managed to cover more than 400 li by noon, he ended up sitting on the ground, unable to get up.

 

Shen Ruo said, “When you’re old, you have to accept it.” Without caring about the old man’s protests, he effortlessly hoisted him onto his back and asked, “Still heading west?”

 

Xu Mingshi snorted with a sour expression, which could be taken as a response. Shortly after, he felt his body jolt as Shen Ruo, having replenished his energy overnight, ran like the wind. The sharp air cut against his face like knives. At this point, Xu Mingshi surrendered, shielding his face with one hand while tightly gripping Shen Ruo’s clothes with the other, terrified that his old bones might fly off at such speed.

 

They ran non-stop for an entire afternoon, covering over a thousand li. As night approached, Shen Ruo, feeling somewhat tired, put the old man down and said, “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

 

Xu Mingshi, however, replied, “We’re almost there.”

 

Since he said so, Shen Ruo didn’t object. Hoisting the once-reluctant-now-complacent old man onto his back again, he continued the journey.

 

It wasn’t until late at night that Xu Mingshi called for a stop. Shen Ruo halted, looking ahead at an unfamiliar nighttime landscape.

 

“You rest here,” Xu Mingshi said as he adjusted his clothes. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

Knowing he was here to help Xu Mingshi, Shen Ruo understood. He drank some water and sat cross-legged, resuming his meditation under the starry sky.

 

Standing at the mountain’s base, Xu Mingshi hesitated, unsure whether to climb. After all, he had never done such a thing before—neither in the past nor the future.

 

The sound of a babbling stream echoed in his ears, the moon and stars reflected brilliantly in the sky above. Xu Mingshi stood there for a long while before letting out a sigh and finally taking a step forward. Following the mountain path, he climbed higher and higher, knowing that at the summit, the peaks were capped with snow.

 

Meanwhile, back at home, Liu Yan remained anxious, unsure of where they had gone or what they were doing. After all, Xu Mingshi had only said that Shen Ruo could make it through the winter but had not mentioned which season he himself could not endure. The black snake, however, showed no such worry. Despite it being spring, having experienced one moment of bliss, the snake felt its duty fulfilled. Even though it was still unwell two days later, it made no effort to leave again in search of the female snake. Back home, it was as lazy as ever, even in the warm season. The snake continued to curl up in Liu Yan’s arms, dozing.

 

It had always been lazy, but this period reached a peak of idleness. Once, sparrows descended to peck at the grain in the yard. The snake, lying on Liu Yan’s chest, poked its head out to watch, seemingly deciding whether or not to catch them. In the end, it determined it wasn’t hungry and let even the thought of catching birds slide. Having made up its mind, it didn’t so much as glance at the birds flying about.

 

Sometimes, Liu Yan would set the snake down to take care of chores. Regardless of how long he was gone, the snake would still be lying in the same spot, completely motionless. Only when Liu Yan returned would it lift its head and flick its tongue at him, signaling it was time to be held and continue napping.

 

Eventually, the snake became so lazy that even sparrows deemed it a dead snake. After Liu Yan had left, a sparrow hopped down, stepped onto the “dead snake,” pecked it twice, and then looked up at the sky as if admiring the view.

 

When Liu Yan returned with some bamboo shoots from outside the yard, this was the scene he witnessed.

 

He couldn’t help but sigh, “How can it be this lazy!”

 

Fortunately, no matter how lazy the snake became, there was always a moment each day when it would shake off its lethargy to play and wrestle with Liu Yan. No matter how it played or when it wanted to play, Liu Yan would always indulge it.

 

For the snake, these days were nothing short of perfect—comfortably fitting and entirely satisfying.

 

And Liu Yan also felt there was nothing wrong with such a life.

 

That night, it rained. With Xiao Bao not by his side, Liu Yan stayed in bed a little longer after waking at dawn. The black snake, sensing he was awake, poked its head out from under the blanket, licked his face, then burrowed back in to curl up on his chest, enjoying his gentle stroking.

 

The air was fresh, and the atmosphere serene. Liu Yan closed his eyes again after opening them and murmured to himself, “I’d like some wild mushroom soup.”

 

The mushrooms after a heavy rain were the freshest and juiciest. Liu Yan, suddenly craving them, couldn’t resist. He decided to pick some and make a pot of delicious soup to satisfy his appetite. After washing up, he left the black snake at home, slung a bamboo basket over his shoulder, and headed out.

 

He hadn’t been gone for more than the time it takes to burn a stick of incense when Shen Ruo and Xu Mingshi returned—but Liu Yan, a mortal, remained unaware.

 

Back home, just as Shen Ruo was about to look for Liu Yan, Xu Mingshi grabbed his wrist and said, “Don’t go.”

 

Shen Ruo frowned, puzzled.

 

“I can restore Yi Mo,” Xu Mingshi said, “but your father won’t agree.”

 

Hearing someone say for the first time that Yi Mo could be restored, Shen Ruo was immediately delighted. But upon hearing the latter part, his joy turned to confusion. He quickly asked, “Why?”

 

Xu Mingshi replied, “I’m old. A spell like this would cost me my life.”

 

“A life for a life. If your father finds out, he’ll take the black snake and leave overnight.” Xu Mingshi chuckled, “I don’t have the strength to chase them anymore.”

 

Shen Ruo fell silent.

 

Xu Mingshi said, “Wait for me here.”

 

“Why help us if we’re unrelated?” Shen Ruo asked.

 

“My master asked me the same thing,” Xu Mingshi said. “He asked why I’d help the black snake if we were unrelated.”

 

Xu Mingshi looked up at Shen Ruo and earnestly asked, “Are we really unrelated?”

 

Once again, Shen Ruo remained silent.

 

Standing before him, Xu Mingshi thought back to the conversation at the mountaintop. His master, now a deity, was impossible to find. But he had learned Yi Mo’s methods and dug up the wine his master had painstakingly brewed to blackmail him into appearing.

 

In his lifetime, Xu Mingshi had never done such a thing.

 

And the first time he did, he managed to pull it off. He suddenly realized he had potential to be a great villain.

 

Facing his immortal master, Xu Mingshi knew full well the vast difference in their abilities. He understood that provoking his master could lead to his obliteration, yet he was still willing to try.

 

Because it wasn’t as simple as being unrelated.

 

Three hundred years of acquaintance couldn’t be brushed off with those four cold words.

 

“You’re a cultivator and my disciple. Now you’re begging for a favor for a demon—how can you say you’re unrelated?” the old immortal said.

 

They had both been mortal once. But one had ascended to immortality while the other had fallen into the mortal realm, growing old and frail.

 

Facing each other, the disparity was clear. At least one of them was a failed cultivator.

 

However, after a long silence, Xu Mingshi let out a breath and slowly said:

 

“When I was young, I was impulsive and quick to fight over minor disagreements. At that time, Shen Qingxuan was still alive and often advised me to restrain myself.”

 

“When Shen Qingxuan was still around, he often advised me to curb my temper. Back then, I was young and impulsive, always quick to start a fight if a disagreement arose. After his passing, I became more cautious, learning from my past mistakes, though I still stumbled into trouble frequently. Luckily, I had a protective robe gifted by Yi Mo, which kept me safe from serious harm.

 

But there was one occasion when I provoked a demon far beyond my ability to handle. Desperate and on the run, I sought out the old snake demon for help. He cleaned up the mess for me. From that day on, whenever I was in trouble and had no one else to turn to, I would go to him.

 

Though his words were sharp and often mocking, he never once delayed when it came to lending a hand. He might seem cold on the surface, but over the years, I realized that he didn’t help me purely for Shen Qingxuan’s sake. Thirteen years of companionship had forged a bond of friendship.

 

Whenever I was in danger, he was there to help. When he faced a crisis, he came to me—though it happened only once. Still, it showed his trust.

 

Now that he’s in trouble, it’s only right that I help him.”

 

“What trouble is he in?” the old immortal unexpectedly interjected, his tone skeptical. “I see him every day, eating, sleeping, and living quite comfortably.”

 

Surprised by his master’s tone, Xu Mingshi didn’t dwell on it. “A brilliant mind like his, reduced to a foolish snake—how could that possibly be comfortable?”

 

“I think he’s doing just fine,” the old immortal replied, pausing briefly before dismissing him with a wave. “What would you understand of such mysteries?”

 

“I don’t understand, nor do I care to understand,” Xu Mingshi retorted angrily. “His whole family is grieving for him. I can’t just stand by—I have to do something!”

 

“Then handle it yourself. He’s already taken enough from me. Don’t expect me to meddle any further,” the old immortal said, turning to leave.

 

Panicked, Xu Mingshi acted on impulse, kicking a jar of wine placed nearby. It rolled twice before tumbling off the cliff—shattering into pieces below.

 

The old immortal’s beard bristled with rage. Even Yi Mo, with all his reckless ways, only ever dared to threaten him. This disciple of his had the audacity to actually smash his wine!

 

The old immortal suddenly questioned whether his destiny to become an immortal was a blessing or a curse, given the endless troubles brought to his doorstep.

 

But there was no killing this disciple now. Looking down at the shattered jar, his heart ached a hundredfold.

 

“If you’re so determined to help him, then go ahead,” the old immortal finally said, pulling out a small pill and handing it over. “This was acquired in exchange for some of my wine recently,” he added with a glare. “The very jar you just kicked off the cliff.”

 

Xu Mingshi instinctively shrank back.

 

“Give this to the snake to consume, and I’ll teach you a technique to cleanse his beastly bones and reforge his essence into a human form.

 

But understand this—once the process begins, it cannot be stopped. With your current cultivation level, you’ll only succeed at the cost of your own soul being scattered to the winds.” The old immortal looked at him intently. “Are you still willing to help?”

 

“What does it mean for a soul to be scattered?” Xu Mingshi asked, the familiar phrase suddenly sounding foreign.

 

The old immortal said nothing, only looked at him in silence.

 

Xu Mingshi suddenly felt the coldness of the mountain, biting deeper than ever.

 

Finally, he knelt, bowing deeply. In a soft voice, he said, “Thank you, Master, for granting my request.”

 

“Cause and effect, the cycle of karma, beginnings and endings,” the old immortal murmured, gazing down at the elder kneeling at his feet. “You’ve received too many of his favors; it’s only fitting that you repay him.”

 

Xu Mingshi responded, “Yes.”

 

“Since that’s the case, I won’t hide anything from you.” The old immortal continued, “He used a thousand years of cultivation to exchange for three lifetimes of love with Shen Qingxuan. That’s why he’s a snake now. But in his next three lives, he’ll be inseparable from Shen Qingxuan. Knowing this, do you still wish to help him?”

 

Xu Mingshi thought for a long time before replying, “His future lives may not intersect with mine. I only know that right now, I want to help him—and his family.”

 

After a pause, he added, “I knew he was crafty.”

 

The old immortal wholeheartedly agreed. “Other than when it came to Shen Qingxuan, when has he ever suffered a loss?”

 

Indeed, in his thousand years of life, apart from his initial misstep that turned him into a demon, he had never been taken advantage of again.

 

Uninterested in competing for dominance, yet unwilling to be at a disadvantage.

 

He helped many and garnered gratitude in return. For a demon to achieve this, it was undeniably remarkable. In other words, his cunning was evident.

 

But perhaps it was buried so deeply that even he had forgotten, let alone anyone else.