Five years later.
Mount Hua, the sacred northern peak, was a winter wonderland of ice and snow. But now, the frost was melting, and spring had returned to the earth.
“The Waking of Insects”—the first month’s awakening, when all things stir beneath the thunder’s rumble. Insects and animals seemed to be roused from their slumber by the spring sunlight and the distant roll of thunder, hence the name of this solar term: “Jingzhe” (惊蛰).
Inside the hall, the white serpent, deep in its winter rest, twitched slightly.
The second day of the second lunar month—the day the dragon lifts its head.
With the arrival of spring, people prayed for the divine dragon to suppress all harmful pests and bring a bountiful harvest. This day also symbolized the rise of yang energy from the earth, awakening dormant creatures—corresponding with the solar term Jingzhe. There was even a folk custom forbidding women from needlework on this day, lest their sharp needles pierce the dragon’s eyes.
On this day, the white serpent drowsily raised its head, noticing the melted snow outside and the drip-drip-drip of water from the roof tiles like a gentle rain.
Yet, for some reason, a deep unease stirred in its soul—an unprecedented sense of foreboding.
And that unease… came from the sky.
Lifting its head, the serpent inhaled an entire crate of discarded pill residues in one gulp, then shifted its coiled body to a more comfortable position, continuing its dormancy while absorbing the medicinal energy.
Faced with danger, instinct demanded it store strength for the coming crisis.
The lingering chill of early spring kept the serpent indoors—cold temperatures made its body sluggish and its mind slow.
Two more months passed in slumber.
Raindrops kissed pear blossoms, and the earth awakened to spring’s touch.
Cats sprawled on rooftops, bellies upturned to bask in the warm sunlight. Wildflowers blanketed the mountains, and pear trees bloomed like snow. Young couples strolled beneath umbrellas, and even the Sect Master ventured into the flower fields to savor tea and wine—true carefree bliss.
Clear Void Palace.
Yu Rong stepped outside, her brow furrowed as she gazed at the sky. An invisible pressure seemed to thicken overhead.
Her fingers flicked rapidly, performing a divination. Then, she glanced back at the white serpent, which was still balancing a red candle on its head as punishment for stealing a spiritual herb the day before.
“Bai Yu Jun, put down the candle. Come here.”
The serpent carefully set the candle aside and slithered over, coiling obediently before her.
Five years had passed, yet this beautiful master had not aged a day—if anything, she looked younger, a testament to her soaring cultivation. Truly worthy of being one of the Five Pure Yang Elders.
“Have you been feeling restless lately? As if something terrifying is coming?”
The serpent thought for a moment, then nodded.
“This is a heavenly tribulation for demonic beasts. Survive it, and you’ll reap great rewards. Fail, and your soul will scatter to the winds.”
Yu Rong’s lips curved slightly.
“You’ve absorbed those discarded pills remarkably well. These next few days, rest and prepare. But do not face the tribulation within the sect, and do not try to evade it.”
The serpent froze, stunned long after Yu Rong had left. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Heavenly tribulation.
Those two words planted twenty tons of TNT in its heart—with a lit fuse attached.
Human cultivators didn’t have to worry about tribulations until they reached the peak of their path, preparing to ascend. But other species weren’t so lucky—they faced tribulations early in their cultivation, then again at their peak.
That extra trial was no small matter. Most monsters met their end there.
And the cruelest part? Even after surviving, they remained weaklings in the eyes of human cultivators—easily crushed by a single magical artifact.
Talk about species discrimination!
Xu Ling gazed at the serpent with pity.
Five years had turned her into a lovely young maiden
Cultivators were never ugly, and Xu Ling was a mischievous beauty with a playful charm.
Yang Mu, on the other hand, remained an iceberg, either practicing swordplay or studying. Yet even he had dug out all his healing pills for the serpent, his expression clearly saying:
Don’t you dare to die.
Inside the hall…
Xu Ling pouted, tugging at Yu Rong’s sleeve.
“Shifu~ Bai Yu Jun is so pitiful! Can’t you give it a few magical artifacts to help with the tribulation?”
Yang Mu stood silently nearby, his eyes echoing Xu Ling’s plea.
Clear Void Palace had only three people and one snake. Losing one would be unbearably dull.
The “magical artifacts” Xu Ling mentioned were legendary treasures, ranked by tier:
Magic Tools (法器) — The lowest grade.
Spirit Artifacts (灵器) — Mid-tier, powerful and versatile.
Treasure Artifacts (宝器) — Rare and immensely potent.
Each tier had four sub-ranks: Low, Medium, High, and Peak. These artifacts could boost combat power, provide defense, or grant special abilities—essential for any cultivator.
Yu Rong shook her head.
This girl hasn’t mastered much, but she’s certainly perfected the art of wheedling.
“The path of demonic cultivation is treacherous. We humans, as the spiritual leaders of all beings, face fewer trials. But for beasts, gaining sentience is already a miracle—and now they must endure heavenly punishment.”
“Using artifacts to survive a tribulation is the worst strategy for demons. Those who rely on external aids will struggle to fully transform later, remaining half-beast with stunted intelligence.”
“Only by facing the lightning head-on can a demon shed its mortal shell and lay a solid foundation. Rest assured—this little snake won’t perish.”
“Oh…”
Xu Ling nodded, though her heart still clenched with worry.
Yu Rong continued, “I have a task for you two. When the serpent descends the mountain to face its tribulation, you must guard it from opportunistic foes. This will also allow you to witness the power of heaven and earth.”
“Yes, Shifu!”
Though she hadn’t secured any artifacts, being allowed to stand guard was better than nothing.
Who would dare provoke Pure Yang’s wrath?
With that thought, Xu Ling darted off to recruit help. More allies meant better protection.
Not long after…
Yang Mu walked around his temples, surrounded by a dozen chattering female disciples—all Xu Ling’s friends.
They gossiped about beauty pills and figure-enhancing elixirs, trailed by a group of young male disciples (either Xu Ling’s admirers or the girls’ suitors).
Yang Mu barely resisted the urge to kick them all down the mountain.
So much for peace and quiet.
With a sigh, he mounted his sword and flew toward the sect gates.
The white serpent arrived at the gates leisurely, a large gourd clutched in its jaws—filled with discarded pills and the high-grade healing medicines given by Xu Ling and Yang Mu.
Yang Mu landed beside it, and together, they exited the mountain.
Soon, a flock of giggling female disciples and their entourage poured out after them, leaving the gate guards stunned.
The serpent’s mood lifted slightly.
The oppressive gloom that had loomed over it these past days eased somewhat.
For demonic beasts, the greatest fear during a tribulation wasn’t the lightning—but sabotage.
Most monsters were loners, with no allies to rely on. Their natural predators would seize the chance to strike, and human cultivators were even worse—like cats drawn to the scent of blood.
A beast that survived its tribulation would be weak and vulnerable—perfect for capture as a mount or slave, or simply butchered for materials.
And if it failed?
Well, there were always bones and hides left behind by the lightning—profitable either way.