Chapter 21#

The Breathtakingly Peerless Great Demon, the Ba Serpent#

What Qing Kongzi would come to bitterly regret after waking, we shall set aside for now. In the meantime, Lu Heng had been carried by the holy relic Suixin to an unknown place, and that damned Heavenly Tribulation had followed him here with unrelenting tenacity. In midair, dark clouds were slowly gathering once more.

Lu Heng thought of the strange thing that had happened when Bai Li departed. He reached into his lapel and felt out a pitch-black demon core laced with veins of blood. This was the demon core of a demon who practiced evil arts, having taken the lives of thousands upon thousands of living beings. No wonder the Heavenly Tribulation had appeared so abruptly, and now pursued him without rest along the way.

Lu Heng rubbed it casually between his fingers, reducing the demon core to powder. But the tribulation clouds had already taken shape; there was no escaping. The clouds grew thicker and thicker, and within them, threads of purple lightning began to crackle and coil. Perhaps angered by Lu Heng’s attempt to flee, the first bolt of tribulation lightning that struck down was as thick as a bowl.

Nine-Nine Tribulation—no demon clan member had ever successfully weathered it. Lu Heng’s heart sank with bitter helplessness. He had never imagined that using Suixin to forcibly escape from an unfinished Heavenly Tribulation would have such severe consequences. As thunderbolt after thunderbolt struck down, Lu Heng grew increasingly ragged. By the seventieth bolt, he could no longer hold on and reverted to his original form.

Beneath the waves of blinding lightning appeared a massive serpent with a blue head and a black body. Gold threads wound across its ink-dark scales, making it appear extraordinarily magnificent. Yet this grand and imposing great snake looked utterly wretched at this moment. Some of the scales on its body—lustrous like black gemstones—had been scorched and charred at the edges by the heavenly lightning, curling upward, and thin wisps of blood seeped through the gaps between the scales.

The tribulation lightning showed no mercy. Lu Heng whipped his serpent tail, striking directly at the bolt aimed at the crown of his head. The dark, gleaming tail tip was instantly torn open, flesh rent apart and drenched in blood.

Three more bolts remained. Each more devastating than the last.

The first one—Lu Heng gritted his teeth and endured it with his formidable demon body.

The second—Lu Heng opened his mouth and spat out the demon core from within his abdomen. The golden demon core spun in midair up to the top of his head, blazing with brilliant light, contesting the fearsome heavenly thunder. A moment later, a tremendous explosion rang out, startling every living creature across the entire mountain into trembling. The heavenly lightning dissipated, and the demon core’s radiance dimmed. Upon closer inspection, fine cracks had appeared upon its surface.

The third bolt of heavenly lightning, however, was long in coming. The tribulation clouds did not disperse; instead, their color deepened to an even more ominous black. The wind rushes through the pavilion as rain bears down on the city—an aura of foreboding shrouded the surroundings. Lu Heng dared not let his guard down, holding his breath and concentrating with all his might. Then, from the ink-black clouds, a bolt of lightning as thick as a water vat struck down without warning. Its world-ending ferocity made Lu Heng’s scalp tingle. My life is over!

In that life-or-death moment, the only thing Lu Heng could do was summon the holy relic Suixin and pour every last shred of his remaining demonic power into it with everything he had. The holy relic Suixin erupted with brilliant light, and from within it materialized a monstrous beast with the body of an ox and a gaping maw. It opened its mouth wide and swallowed the heavenly lightning whole. Yet how could the final bolt of the Nine-Nine Tribulation be so easily dealt with? Thunder dragons coiled around the surface of the beast’s body, and the two forces clashed and grappled. After a fierce struggle, they exploded apart. Blinding white light blotted out the sky and earth, and Lu Heng, his demonic power utterly drained, finally lost consciousness and collapsed to the ground, oblivious to everything around him.

Lu Heng woke to searing pain. When he first regained awareness, he was still dazed, feeling as though every bone in his body had been shattered and reassembled, unable to move even a single finger.

I’m not dead yet? I was sent flying twenty meters by a car running a red light, and I’m still alive? Lu Heng’s head felt as though it were about to burst apart, his entire being miserable beyond description. But having survived was already enough to be grateful for. Lu Heng tried to raise his hand to rub his temples and ease the throbbing pain.

Where’s my hand? Lu Heng stared at the short, dark, gleaming tail tip before him, utterly bewildered. He had meant to rub his forehead, and instead he saw that little tail tip twitch slightly. The scales on this tip were curled up in places, with traces of blood in the gaps—quite a sorry sight. Those scales shimmered like black gemstones, with faint gold threads woven through them, looking incomparably beautiful.

But this didn’t change the fact that it was a snake’s tail! Lu Heng felt himself on the verge of breaking down entirely.

A leaf curled and spiraled down, landing right in front of Lu Heng. He looked at the leaf—which seemed even bigger than his head—and discovered another heartbreaking truth: he was now only about the size of a chopstick.

I got hit by a car. And then I turned into a snake.

Dazed and reeling from the shock, Lu Heng saw a hand appear before him—elegant and well-defined, slender yet strong—and then found himself resting in that warm palm. His field of vision slowly rose, until a handsome face, clear and luminous as the moon in a gentle breeze, came into view.

This person was a monk. The nine incense burn scars on his scalp clearly announced that fact. His eye sockets were deep-set, his lashes long, and his eyes seemed to contain an entire world—one flower, one leaf, one realm.

Shi Kong looked down at the tiny snake in his palm. Even though it was covered in wounds, they couldn’t hide the lustrous, gem-like radiance of its scales. If left unattended, it would most likely be hunted down by hunters before long.

Lu Heng watched the monk’s gaze linger on him. The monk’s eyes were of a lighter shade, giving his gaze a somewhat detached, impassive quality. Then Lu Heng found himself tucked into the fold of a robe that smelled faintly of incense. A cool voice sounded above him: “I am called Shi Kong. Until your wounds have healed, you will stay by my side.”

Has someone picked me up? Lu Heng felt a measure of reassurance, and immediately after came an overwhelming drowsiness. He stopped resisting and drifted off into a heavy sleep.

When Lu Heng woke again, the sky had already darkened. Before him lay a meditation chamber, its dim, yellowish candlelight flickering. Shi Kong sat cross-legged in meditation on the bed, and the cool moonlight streaming through the lattice window cast heavy shadows across his face.

Beautiful enough to be intoxicating. As Lu Heng stared, he unconsciously tried to lean closer to that figure luminous as the bright moon—and in the next instant, he tipped over and plunged headfirst off the table. Watching the floor rush ever closer, Lu Heng shut his eyes in self-delusion, silently comforting himself: Well, my tail tip’s already injured, so knocking my head too at least makes it symmetrical.

The anticipated pain never came. Lu Heng felt his head land softly on something yielding. That pleasant voice sounded above him again: “I just applied medicine to you. Try not to get hurt again.”

Only then did Lu Heng realize that the burning, searing sensation across his body had vanished, replaced by a cool, soothing comfort. He shifted, then raised his tail tip to examine it, finding that every charred, curling scale had been coated with a thin layer of pale green ointment.

“The ointment has been dissolved with spiritual energy. Your body will be fine by tomorrow.” Shi Kong placed the little black snake by the head of the bed, then crossed his legs again, resuming his meditation posture. He noticed the little black snake’s bright, glistening eyes fixed on him without blinking. It was merely a snake, yet Shi Kong found himself inexplicably talking to it—this was also the first time he had been in such close contact with a living creature.

Shi Kong had been born with a spirit root of wisdom. Everyone said he was destined to become a Buddha. From the moment he gained memories, his fellow disciples—even his master—had always treated him with utmost reverence. Shi Kong didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. From the moment he first opened his eyes, he had looked upon this world as if through a veil of gauze. The partings and reunions, joys and sorrows, laughter and tears of the vast mortal world could not stir even the slightest ripple at the bottom of his heart.

Until today, when he encountered this little black snake, lying half-dead in the grass. By the time Shi Kong realized what had happened, he had already placed the little black snake inside his robe.

Shi Kong had been traveling the world for a long time. Every evening, he would simply find a place to sit and meditate. Cultivators had no need to eat, and a simple Dust-Repelling Spell could clean their garments. So even when spending nights in the wilderness, Shi Kong never minded. But today, in order to care for this injured little black snake, he had deliberately sought out a temple to stay at.

Shi Kong gently touched the top of the little black snake’s head with his finger. The sensation was cool as jade and stone. “Tomorrow, I will return you to the mountain forest.”

Lu Heng’s heart sank. Is my benefactor going to abandon me? His instinct rejected the idea of leaving Shi Kong’s side—not merely because of the monk’s appearance or temperament. Just now, while the monk had been meditating, Lu Heng had felt a sensation stirring around him that was indescribably comfortable. Though Lu Heng had inexplicably become a snake and had not yet adapted to life as one, some deep instinct in his blood seemed to tell him: You must cling to Shi Kong.

But a snake’s will could not change anything. The next day, Shi Kong carried Lu Heng to a remote mountain forest, far from any human habitation.

“Go on.” Shi Kong touched the little black snake’s head once more, then set him down in the grass nearby.

Lu Heng panicked. He gently bit down on the finger that Shi Kong was about to pull away, desperately pleading with his eyes not to be left behind. But his mouth was softly pinched shut, and he had no choice but to release the finger from between his jaws.

Shi Kong looked down at the little black snake—now full of vigor with its wounds healed—for a long moment. Then, without the slightest trace of reluctance, he turned and walked away.

Lu Heng had initially planned to follow Shi Kong quietly, hoping to move this seemingly cold and aloof monk. After all, his scales were rather pretty—if he put in a bit of effort, maybe he could secure himself a position as the great monk’s little companion. But before his ambitions could bear fruit, the figure ahead had already vanished. Only the cacophony of birdsong in the empty mountain remained, mocking Lu Heng’s naivety.

Are there immortals in this place? Lu Heng blinked hard. Just moments ago, that figure in the moon-white monk’s robe had taken only three steps before vanishing from his sight. Was this the legendary “shrinking the earth into inches”? Lu Heng felt his entire worldview shatter. He had been struck into midair, then transmigrated and turned into a snake—he hadn’t even fully accepted those facts yet. And now he had discovered that this world actually had immortals?

Lu Heng lay dazed in the grass for a good while before realizing he was somewhat hungry. What should a snake eat? Frogs? Never mind—that was too disgusting. He looked up and spotted a bird’s nest on the branches above. Bird eggs should be okay, right?

After exhausting himself adapting to a mode of locomotion without legs, Lu Heng finally made it beside the nest. Looking at the few pristine white bird eggs inside, he discovered with great sadness that he had no appetite whatsoever—deep inside, he even felt a trace of revulsion.

Lu Heng tried hard to fight the urge to gag as he attempted to swallow a bird egg whole, but he couldn’t do it. When the egg was in his mouth, his instincts seemed to be warning him: Don’t swallow it. Something very bad will happen if you swallow it.

Am I going to become a snake that starves to death? Lu Heng hooked his tail tip around a branch and dangled head-down in the air, swaying gently as he pondered his own survival. He recalled that while he had been with Shi Kong, he had never eaten anything. But whenever Shi Kong meditated, Lu Heng—staying nearby—would feel a warm glow throughout his body, and the sensation of hunger would subsequently fade.

Having figured out the key to it all, Lu Heng set off on a journey to find Shi Kong—for his very survival.