Chapter One: The Serpent Demon

Chapter One: The Serpent Demon

In the outskirts of Shunping County, Baoding Prefecture, Lai, there stood the Everlasting Peace Stone Bridge. Before the bridge, a monument recorded its construction in the second year of the Liang Dynasty’s Chengsheng era, in November—several centuries had passed since then.

Beneath the bridge, a clear stream flowed, its waters so transparent that fish appeared to glide through air, sunlight piercing to the bottom, their shadows cast motionless upon the stones, as if in silent delight with their observers. Not far from the bridge, upon crossing to the other side, one would reach Mirror Lake. At its banks, lush trees and radiant, exotic flowers flourished, with snowy streams and emerald bamboo casting their shade, lending the scene an otherworldly, breathtaking beauty.

Half a mile from the lake lay a small village named Guo. It consisted of little more than a hundred households. At the entrance stood the home of Ye Ren and his wife, Madam Gao.

The Ye family had tilled the land for generations, but Ye Ren, in his time, had studied diligently for over a decade and was renowned in the area as a learned recluse. Many years after his marriage, Madam Gao finally bore him a son after ten months’ pregnancy—a child the couple cherished dearly. It was the height of spring, with blossoms ablaze in splendor, so they gave him the childhood name Ye Hua.

Time passed swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, Ye Hua was eleven or twelve years old. His parents adored him and began teaching him to read and write.

One sweltering summer day, Ye Hua and a group of friends were playing along the lakeshore. Though it was midday, the breeze by the water was cool and refreshing. The children were in high spirits when suddenly, from the distance, came the furious barking of a dog.

“Ye Hua, your Big Yellow must have found something fun!” exclaimed a dark-skinned boy, stopping in excitement.

Ye Hua put down his stick and listened intently. “Heizi, go see what’s up!” he said.

“Alright!” Heizi replied, turning to run off, while the others resumed their play.

Moments later, a startled cry came from afar: “Ye Hua! Ye Hua! Fatty! Hurry over here!”

Startled, Ye Hua and the others paused. “Heizi, what is it? What’s over there?” Ye Hua called. “Let’s go see!” urged another. The group exchanged glances and dashed toward the commotion.

They skirted the lakeside woods and soon saw Big Yellow, the dog, bristling and poised to attack. Heizi stood nearby, clutching a branch defensively. Before them lay an enormous python, several yards long and as thick as a water barrel, motionless on the ground. Its scales were patterned in vivid colors, its head triangular, and at the fateful seven-inch mark, a bloody wound gaped—a chilling sight. The serpent’s forked tongue flickered weakly, its eyes half-open, as if death was imminent.

“How can a snake be so huge!” gasped the boys, breathless and frightened.

“It just moved a little!” said Heizi, gripping his stick.

No one dared approach, so each grabbed a long branch. “How did this snake get here? We’ve never seen one so big in the village!” said a chubby boy.

Heizi poked the snake from a distance with his stick. The serpent, recognizing these were mere children, did not even bother to open its eyes.

Their courage emboldened by the snake’s stillness, the boys began prodding it repeatedly. “Never seen one this size before—could it be a mountain spirit in snake form?” one speculated.

“A snake spirit? If it were, wouldn’t it have swallowed us already?” retorted a boy with a tigerish face.

The chubby boy, cautious, said, “My mother said there’s a snake demon in the mountains behind the village. It’s supposed to be fierce and eats people!”

“Hah, that’s just your mother trying to scare you!” the tiger-faced boy laughed, stabbing at the snake with his stick. “Look, it’s nothing…”

He stopped mid-sentence as he saw terror wash over his friends’ faces. Big Yellow barked wildly. The tiger-faced boy spun around—right before his eyes loomed the great serpent’s head, its eyes glowing green like lanterns, fixed upon him.

His heart pounded, mouth dry, he tried to scream but no sound came, tried to run but his legs would not obey. The snake stared, drooling as it began to coil, as if to surround him.

Tears welled in the boy’s eyes. Just as he was about to cry out, the serpent suddenly turned its head toward another child, who jabbed a sharpened stick into its wounded spot. Big Yellow leapt, biting the serpent’s tail before darting away.

The serpent, enraged, lashed out with its tail like a giant club. Whether weakened by its wounds or outmaneuvered by the boy, it missed and struck a tree as thick as a bowl, snapping it with a loud crack.

Failing to hit its mark, the serpent refused to relent. Its head swung around, tongue flickering, eyes blazing, and lunged at the boy.

The children, only now recovering from shock, cried out, “Ye Hua, run!” Ye Hua, startled by the tail’s blow, fled in panic, Big Yellow at his side. The serpent, though grievously injured, pursued with surprising speed.

The remaining children, seeing the snake give chase, shouted, helped the tiger-faced boy to his feet, and ran the other way.

Ye Hua glanced back; the serpent was not far behind. Fear gripped him, while Big Yellow barked madly at his side.

Ye Hua silently despaired: “Big Yellow, if we’re swallowed today, how tragic! What would it feel like inside a snake’s belly? Would we become a lump of snake dung? Do snakes even produce dung? I’ve never heard or seen such a thing…”

His thoughts raced as his feet carried him on. Ahead lay a fallen, dead tree. “Perhaps this will slow it down,” he thought, leaping over it. Glancing back, he gasped, “Could it truly be a snake spirit?”

The serpent’s eyes blazed brighter, determined not to let its prey escape. The dead wood that once would have been easy to surmount now proved too much; instead, the snake spat a mist of green vapors, enveloping the tree. When the smoke cleared, nothing remained; the tree had turned to ash in an instant.

Ye Hua, witnessing this, was even more terrified and ran faster. He soon broke out of the woods to the lakeshore—an open space near the village but offering no cover. Here, with no way to double back, he grew more desperate. “Help! Help!” he cried at the top of his lungs.

The serpent, weakened further by its attack, seemed to lose its luster, its eyes dimming. Yet, seeing the boy falter with exhaustion, it pressed on, furious that such a child had dared provoke it.

With a sudden surge, the serpent leapt, closing the gap to less than ten feet. Its tongue shot out like an arrow, straight for Ye Hua’s back.

A sharp pain struck Ye Hua, and the world spun into darkness. He collapsed, unconscious. The serpent’s strike left a gaping wound, black blood oozing out. The serpent, drained, crawled over to rest before feasting.

Big Yellow, seeing Ye Hua pinned, bristled and lunged, but the serpent’s tail struck him, sending the dog flying yards away, where he lay motionless.

Afterward, the serpent paused, as if listening for something. Suddenly, it raised its head toward the sky and spat out a crimson orb. From the horizon, a streak of white, like thunder, shot forward with a boom. The red and white objects clashed, recoiling in midair. Suspended above, they revealed their true forms: a red bead and a long white sword.

“Fiend! You won’t escape this time!” came a fierce cry as a young woman in white palace robes flew swiftly toward them. As she approached, her elegant features became clear—arched brows, bright eyes, a delicate face, a sheathed sword on her back, a jade pendant with a red tassel at her waist. With a gesture, the sword returned to her hand, its point leveled at the serpent—she was the very image of heroic grace.

The serpent’s eyes burned with hatred and a trace of fear, the red bead circling above its head, pulsing with light as it readied itself for a desperate struggle.

Seeing the wounded child beneath the serpent, the woman’s face darkened. “I’ve chased you for days—today, you will not escape!” She wasted no more words. Her sword gleamed, white light flashing, and with a spell, “Swift!” the sword’s aura arced through the air toward the serpent.

The serpent, sensing the threat, hissed, its scales writhing as if two phantom claws emerged from its body. The right claw struck forward, blocking the sword’s light, while the left slashed at the woman.

“Spent fiend, dare you resist!” she said angrily, parrying with her sword, then pointing her left hand, sending a spark of fire that set the serpent’s phantom claw ablaze. The fire roared, and the illusion was consumed.

The serpent, enraged, tried to conjure another claw, but the woman floated forward, her left hand changing from a point to a palm, striking at the serpent’s head. The move seemed unremarkable, but the serpent was terrified. The red bead above its head flared, forming a shield of light.

A muffled boom sounded as her palm struck the red glow. The serpent coughed blood, trembling under the force.

The woman was secretly astonished—she alone knew her “Cloud-Piercing Moon-Caressing Palm” was a technique gathering her full inner strength, devastating in power. It was this move that had wounded the serpent before, yet it still withstood her blow!

Seeing it still breathe, she spun around, her sword sweeping in a circle of silver light. The shield wavered and shattered, the blow slicing the serpent and drawing another stream of blood.

“Begone!” she commanded. The sword’s light receded, becoming a crystalline dagger that spun around her, then vanished, only to reappear above the serpent’s head and plunge downward.

Desperate, the serpent’s tongue flared with white light, trying to ensnare the dagger, but the blade pierced through, entering its mouth and exiting at the fatal seven-inch mark. The serpent gave a final, earth-shaking cry, thrashed, and fell still.

Descending, the woman retrieved her dagger and checked on Ye Hua. His back wound oozed black blood, his face pale and ringed with dark energy, his breath all but ceased.

“Fortunately, the serpent struck his back, not a vital spot. If not, even heaven’s strength could not save him!” she thought, relieved. She took several bottles from her sleeve, applied powder to his wound, and fed him white pills.

Amazingly, Ye Hua’s wound healed before her eyes, his flesh restored, his complexion turning rosy. Yet the black mist on his face gathered at his brow, stubbornly refusing to disperse.

Seeing this, the woman murmured, “The serpent’s poison is formidable—my Celestial Sun Pill cannot drive it out!”

She stood, passing her hand over Ye Hua, bathing him in spiritual light. In his dreams, Ye Hua felt as though he had been in a fiery prison, his body burning with unbearable pain, then suddenly drenched in rain, cool relief following, then a gentle breeze and warm sun, until he felt utterly at ease. Suddenly, a jolt to his forehead, and he woke.

Before him stood the woman in white, smiling kindly, as if in a dream. Ye Hua rubbed his eyes, looked back, and saw the dead serpent nearby. Memories flooded back, and he cried out, “Is...is it dead?”

Turning to the woman, he asked timidly, “Did you save me, sister? Did you kill the snake?”

“And where’s Big Yellow? Big Yellow!” He searched, found his dog lying by a tree, and rushed over. Seeing the dog was merely unconscious, unhurt, he relaxed.

Returning, he saw the woman still standing, sword on her back, smiling warmly. He felt an instant fondness for her. “Thank you, sister, for saving me!” he said.

She smiled. “No need for thanks. The serpent is slain, but its poison remains in you, and even I have no cure.”

She extended her hand toward the serpent’s body, and a tongue of fire coiled out, consuming the corpse to ash. Only the crimson bead remained, its glow dim.

“Sister, are you a cultivator? From which sword sect do you hail?” Ye Hua asked in awe.

She laughed. “You know of the sword sects?”

He scratched his head. “My uncle cultivates at Mount Emei, so I’ve heard a bit.”

She nodded. “I am a disciple of Master Zhang’s Grotto, the fifty-eighth among the Seventy-Two Blessed Caves of Immortals. Out traveling, you may call me Sister Qiu.”

She summoned the red bead to her hand. “This serpent’s core may delay the poison’s onset. Wear it at your chest.” She handed it to him, thinking, “Such clear eyes and refined spirit—this child is made for cultivation.”

Ye Hua accepted the bead. Hearing her words, his heart chilled, but he forced a smile. “My father always says, ‘Life and death are fated, fortune rests with heaven.’ If the poison cannot be cured, so be it.”

The woman, seeing his calm acceptance, felt both admiration and sorrow. “What child speaks with such wisdom? Yet how tragic—the poison will deplete his vitality, and even with the core, he may not live more than a few months.”

She sighed. “What is your name, child? Where are you from?”

Ye Hua pointed to the village. “My name is Ye Hua. I grew up right there.”

She smiled. “Good child. If fate allows, we shall meet again.” With a shake of her head, her sword flashed, and in a blink, she vanished.

Ye Hua looked up and saw a streak of white light across the sky, like a wild goose breaking through the clouds. He stood, dazed. “So this is a cultivator—righteous, flying through the air, coming and going like the wind.”

After a long while, as Big Yellow groggily woke and whimpered, Ye Hua returned to himself.

With his loyal dog, he made his way back, meeting his parents and a group of villagers, all armed with sticks and tools.

Seeing Ye Hua safe, they all breathed a sigh of relief. When asked, Ye Hua simply said he’d fainted and, upon waking, found the serpent gone. The villagers, not knowing the truth, surmised a deity must have intervened and urged the children to be cautious in the future.

Days passed, and Ye Ren, noticing Ye Hua’s lingering malaise and the persistent blackness on his face, grew worried. He wrote urgently to Mount Emei, recounting all that had happened, and awaited a reply.

What strange encounters await Ye Hua under the moonlit night? What wondrous arts will he learn by chance? What perils and marvels will he meet on the quest for immortals at Little Wutai, and what fierce struggles with evil Daoists? For thrilling, novel, poignant, and fragrant adventures, stay tuned for the next chapter.