The upper half of the snake tail was attached to a person—and a familiar one at that.
Song Nanchu.
Not long ago, when Xu Lingguang had casually asked about him, Zhou Fuying had said that Song Nanchu had gone off somewhere to sleep, complaining about the heat. Yet now, here he was, lying unconscious in the grass at the border of Ailao Mountain.
Xu Lingguang inwardly scoffed, and more or less realized that the three cheap disciples and this body probably didn’t share any deep, affectionate master-disciple bond.
He examined Song Nanchu again. In this half-human, half-snake form, Song Nanchu exuded an inhuman, eerie aura. In his human form, he gave the impression of nothing but gentleness and refinement, his perpetually smiling face highly deceptive, making it hard to associate him with cold, sinister serpents.
Xu Lingguang was one of the victims of this deception.
He recalled the black snake at the entrance of Qingyu Sect, looking down from above with those cold, cruel red vertical pupils—clearly not one to be trifled with.
Including the frenzied giant black snake from last midnight—though he hadn’t seen it fully, its massive form alone was enough to send shivers down one’s spine. Xu Lingguang had previously speculated about the connection between the two, but now there was no need to guess. It was most likely the person before him.
He sighed, wondering what was going on.
Last night, Zhou Fuying and Yu Jun had chased after someone—probably looking for him—but neither had found him. And now Xu Lingguang had stumbled upon him.
With luck like this, if he were in the modern era, he’d definitely go buy a couple of lottery tickets 🙂
Xu Lingguang plopped down in the grass, sighing and groaning.
After wallowing for a while, he felt even hungrier and decided to find something to eat first before thinking about anything else.
Fortunately, Ailao Mountain was abundant with food. He picked some wild fruits he recognized to stave off his hunger, then returned to check on Song Nanchu.
Song Nanchu was still unconscious, lying face down. His pale, weak profile showed no trace of color in his lips, and the scales on his snake tail below the waist had lost their luster, faintly tinged with gray. Perhaps from prolonged exposure to the sun, some scales even had a thin yellowish film, as if he were about to shed his skin.
Xu Lingguang tentatively shook him but couldn’t wake him.
With no other choice, he half-carried, half-dragged Song Nanchu to a shaded area.
But Xu Lingguang clearly underestimated Song Nanchu’s weight. Just moving him to the shade under the tree took immense effort. Finally, after settling him there, Xu Lingguang felt a dull ache in his internal organs. Clutching his chest and gasping for breath, he carefully leaned against the tree and sat down.
When the heart-wrenching pain subsided, he wiped his mouth and found his hand covered in blood.
Xu Lingguang:…
Belatedly realizing he had coughed up blood, he lamented his useless body while glaring at the culprit who had caused it.
It was then that Song Nanchu woke up.
After the uncontrollable period of frenzy, he would experience a phase of extreme weakness, during which he couldn’t even fully maintain his human form, forced to remain in this half-human, half-snake state.
Ugly and powerless—it was the form he despised and hated the most, one he would rather die than let anyone see.
Even Xu Lingguang only knew that he had a monthly frenzy, during which he would lock him in the cage at Fushengjin. But he didn’t know that after gritting his teeth and forcing himself out of the cage, there was an even more unbearable period of weakness to endure.
He had carefully concealed this secret for many years, never expecting that after this bout of madness subsided and he regained consciousness, the first person he would see upon opening his eyes would be Xu Lingguang.
For a moment, Song Nanchu felt a surge of murderous intent, but his weakened body left him unable to move, only his fingers hanging limply at his side twitching slightly in a spasm.
Meanwhile, Xu Lingguang, noticing he had woken up, widened his eyes in surprise and thrust a pair of blood-stained hands before him, mumbling in a muffled voice, “You’re finally awake. Look, I even coughed up blood trying to save you.”
He seemed to be in extreme pain, his face deathly pale and his features scrunched up, giving him an almost childishly innocent appearance.
Only his words weren’t quite as pleasant.
“I won’t ask you to repay this life-saving debt by offering yourself in marriage, but you better remember this great kindness. Whatever grudges we had before, they should all be canceled now, understand?”
Xu Lingguang had his own little calculations in mind. Although he didn’t know what conflicts this body had with its disciples before, the three cheap apprentices all seemed to have some cultivation skills—he couldn’t afford to provoke them.
Whatever past enmities existed, it was best to let them fade away with the wind.
Song Nanchu sneered coldly, but due to his extreme weakness, it only came across to Xu Lingguang as a faint frown and a soft grunt.
Xu Lingguang said, “If you don’t say anything, I’ll take it as your agreement, okay?”
Song Nanchu stared at him coldly without uttering a word.
Xu Lingguang continued, “You’re really too heavy. I can’t carry you back to Qingyu Sect. Besides, there might still be people waiting outside to ambush me, so you’ll have to stay here for now. I’ll see if I can find a chance to go back and send word, asking Yu Jun and the others to come pick you up.”
Finally gathering enough strength, Song Nanchu squeezed out a sentence with difficulty: “This is Ailao Mountain. No one dares to enter.”
Xu Lingguang stared back at him for a long moment before slowly saying, “Well, you and I are both here now, aren’t we?”
Song Nanchu: “…”
He closed his eyes and turned his face to the other side.
Truthfully, Xu Lingguang wasn’t entirely confident either. Why did everyone mention Ailao Mountain with an expression that seemed to say “trespassers will die”? Yet he had entered twice now without encountering any danger—in fact, the mountain’s fearsome reputation had saved him both times.
He stammered hesitantly, “Actually, Ailao Mountain isn’t as terrifying as you all make it out to be, right? Chenghuang hasn’t appeared, and no one suddenly jumps out to kill me. Compared to Qingyu Sect, this place feels much safer.”
Song Nanchu turned his face back and gave him a deep look.
Xu Lingguang wore an expression that said, “Don’t pretend.”
Song Nanchu’s pupils contracted slightly. After a moment of silence, he asked, “You remember now?”
Seeing his probing tone, Xu Lingguang shook his head and muttered, “I’ve lost my memory, but I’m not stupid.”
If he still couldn’t sense the wariness and schemes of his cheap apprentices at this point, then all his years as a corporate drone would have been for nothing.
Song Nanchu stared at him, his gaze scrutinizing.
If before, his attitude had been mostly guarded, suspecting Xu Lingguang of plotting some new trick, now his guard had mostly dropped.
If Xu Lingguang’s memory loss was merely an act, he wouldn’t be wasting time chatting here—he would have taken advantage of Song Nanchu’s weakened state to finish him off.
He really didn’t remember anything at all.
But then Song Nanchu felt a flicker of doubt. Could a person truly change so completely just from losing their memories?
So completely that they became entirely different.