After investigating the Guo family incident, the local magistrate personally visited Yun’er’s gravesite. There, he witnessed the white serpent keeping vigil over the mound. Learning the full story, the magistrate admired how the serpent had exacted vengeance upon evil men, deeply moved by this demonstration that even mountain beasts could possess profound loyalty.
Later, a bored yamen runner sighed in verse:
“The white serpent slaughtered a household for its friend—
Who dares claim mountain beasts lack feeling in the end?”
The killings were thus quietly dismissed. When certain parties pressed for official action, the yamen’s response was succinct: “Feel free to go yourself—we’ll gladly provide the serpent’s location.”
Memories of how an entire hunting party had perished years earlier while attempting to capture the snake effectively silenced any talk of avenging Squire Guo.
The white serpent cared nothing for these human affairs. With death, all accounts were settled. It returned despondently to the mountains to continue its cultivation.
Without Yun’er, it lost all desire to venture beyond its territory. Day after day, it followed the same routine—hunting, sleeping, cultivating. Coiled beneath the ginkgo tree, it watched wind and clouds drift by as golden leaves cascaded onto its massive white form, adding poetic beauty to its solitude. The path of cultivation was lonely, much like this ancient tree silently observing the cycles of time.
For the serpent, cultivation meant slow, steady accumulation—a test of perseverance without manuals, masters, or guidance. Only daily discipline.
It had considered seeking spirit herbs to accelerate progress, but such treasures were rare and invariably guarded by fierce beasts whose instincts recognized their value. Contending for them would mean bloody battles, and in the Ten Thousand Mountains, injury often spelled death through weakened defenses.
Most days, the serpent coiled on rocks or wound around ancient trees, sometimes practicing at a mountain spring.
Occasionally, animals would approach curiously before hastily retreating, fearing the giant serpent might awaken hungry.
Rain or shine, it swam daily in a deep pool to cleanse its scales.
After rain, the empty mountain glistens;
Clear springs flow over stone.
Gradually, the serpent found itself drawn to rainy days and water play—behaviors quite un-snakelike. The benefit showed in increasingly lustrous, snow-white scales. The source of this chapter is NovelPing.
Immersion in cultivation made years slip by unnoticed…
Over a decade passed…
On a mountain peak, the white serpent coiled around boulders, using sharp edges to slit open old skin behind its head before slowly shedding the entire sheath—a fifteen-minute process. After resting post-molt, it measured eight meters long now, an extraordinary length.
Its cloud-absorbing cultivation at mountain summits could now draw mist from two meters away—significant progress.
Among countless creatures embarking on cultivation, most were predators or resilient species. Few herbivores or plants achieved sentience—their weaker vitality and combat ability demanded extraordinary fortune. Flora cultivation was rarer still.
Near the serpent’s territory dwelled another awakened creature—a gray wolf. Other areas might harbor more, but distance prevented contact.
Unlike the serpent, the wolf was inherently aggressive, cruel, and cunning. Upon learning of the massive white snake’s presence, it began frequent provocations.
Beasts who grasped cultivation basics instinctively understood one truth: consuming powerful prey accelerated growth.
While the serpent preferred lazy absorption of ambient energy, avoiding conflict by climbing peaks or diving deep—its human past having instilled primal fear of wolves—the wolf mistook this caution for weakness.
Finally, the serpent’s dormant combat instincts awakened. It resolved to kill this nuisance.
After preparations, the wolf arrived as expected, drooling at what it saw as premium nourishment. It paid little heed to the battleground.
Face-to-face they stood—the wolf, calf-sized and crouched low; the serpent hissing ominously.
“Sssss—!”
Bared fangs served as final warning. The wolf didn’t retreat.
No words, no feints. These apex predators engaged in immediate mortal combat…
Amidst scenery fit for immortals, life and death hung in balance!
The serpent deliberately exposed its body as bait. When the wolf’s jaws clamped onto scaled flesh, serpent fangs found the wolf’s back, injecting venom. Needle-sharp guard hairs shredded the serpent’s mouth as wolf teeth shattered scales. Blood maddened both combatants—the wolf fought wildly while the serpent initiated its deadly coil…
Experienced in mortal combat, the wolf understood that while it could tear scales and flesh, one misstep meant annihilation. The serpent could afford mistakes—the wolf could not.
Defeat was inevitable. Venom already coursed through the wolf’s veins. Fleeing might have allowed its robust constitution to neutralize the toxin, but bloodlust overrode survival instinct.
The serpent capitalized on a slight stumble, instantly coiling around the wolf’s neck before entangling its entire body!
Only terrain made this possible—cliffs and deep pools limited the wolf’s mobility.
No ordinary wolf, this. Every struggle of its claws stripped scales and opened wounds…
Beast and serpent fought savagely, the serpent’s blood dyeing its own scales crimson…
Today, the white serpent would claim this life!
With a mighty heave, it dragged the wolf into the deep pool. Huge splashes erupted as both disappeared beneath the surface—the wolf knew its doom had come…
Superior in water, the serpent controlled the descent despite drifting blood clouds. Survival Rule Three: When attacking, hold nothing back—be ruthless as bloodlust demands.
In crystalline depths, their struggle stirred sandy bottoms.
The serpent constricted relentlessly. The wolf’s thrashing weakened gradually until its blurred vision darkened forever…
Only when the wolf’s body cooled did the serpent loosen its grip, wearily dragging the carcass to the surface.
The battle had lasted over thirty minutes. Blood loss and exhaustion demanded immediate nourishment, but swallowing the massive wolf risked bursting its wounds—a laughable way to perish after victory.
Human intellect provided the solution. Fangs pierced the wolf’s throat, and the serpent drank deeply—blood being the essence of a predator’s vitality.
Perhaps due to the wolf’s cultivated nature, its blood remained unnaturally fluid. As the rich essence filled its belly, the serpent felt burning heat spreading through its ravaged body before darkness claimed its consciousness…
The massive serpent drifted downstream with the current…