A decade passed in the blink of an eye.
The white serpent remained five meters in length, its growth seemingly stunted. Yet through daily mist-breathing exercises, its strength had increased and its constitution toughened. Its smooth scales now gleamed whiter and more lustrous – where once its appearance inspired fear, there was now an eerie beauty to its form.
In the mountain pool, triangular ripples spread outward in perfect symmetry.
With a splash, the serpent raised its head from the water, leisurely making its way to shore after its bath.
It slithered to rest beneath an ancient ginkgo tree so massive it would take five or six men to encircle its trunk. The tree’s gnarled branches twisted like coiling dragons, its canopy spreading like an imperial parasol. Beneath it lay a smooth boulder, its cool surface perfect for a cold-blooded creature to lounge upon during summer heat.
Suddenly, the resting serpent lifted its head. Its heat-sensing pits had detected a human approaching. Fangs bared in warning, it tensed – until its keen nostrils identified the familiar scent.
The herbalist.
Just as he had ten years prior, the man bowed in greeting. The decade had not been kind – in this era of harsh living conditions and poor nutrition where fifty was considered old age, the once robust herbalist Wang Da now appeared twenty years beyond his true age of forty-something. His hunched frame made the serpent wonder if he could still scale cliffs to harvest dendrobium orchids.
Time had weathered the man, while the serpent remained unchanged.
“Ten years… I never thought I’d see you again,” the old herbalist murmured to himself as the serpent watched silently.
“I’ve become a useless old man now. Can’t earn money for the family – my son and daughter-in-law must support me.”
A pause stretched between them.
“My wife passed away two springs ago. The drought left no food… She ate Buddhist guanyin clay despite my warnings. Without it she might have lived longer, but I knew – she wanted to save what little grain we had for the children.”
Another heavy silence.
“My son is married. They had a daughter… though in my heart I wished for a grandson. The Wang family line shouldn’t end with me.”
The serpent listened as the old man rambled on – a lifetime of backbreaking labor, yet poverty clung like a shadow. He didn’t understand why his family remained destitute, but the serpent did. In this ancient world of rigid class divides where noble families controlled everything, mere survival was already a privilege.
“People say there’s a white dragon cultivating here… I know it’s you. Old Liu’s wife even claims you visited her dreams!”
The serpent would have rolled its eyes if it could. When has it ever gained the ability to enter dreams?
Beneath the ancient ginkgo, an old man chatted away to a white snake…
By afternoon, he departed. The serpent suspected his time was near – its tongue could taste the scent of impending death upon him. Perhaps he’d be glad – reunited with his wife, while relieving his son’s burden.
The encounter stirred something in the serpent. Death’s bitterness was something it never wished to taste again.
With renewed determination, it sought better cultivation grounds. Snakes naturally favored yin energy, and lacking proper training, the serpent relied on half-remembered knowledge from its past life. It recalled the cliffside pool where it had consumed that spiritual herb years ago – the perfect spot.
Without hesitation, it left the ginkgo tree and ascended the mountainside. The small pool remained, fed by trickling water from rock crevices above. The clear, sweet water convinced the serpent this was indeed an ideal place for cultivation.
Coiling beside the pool, it began its breathing exercises.
Deep in the mountains, a white serpent practiced immortality…
Several years later.
After a mountain storm, clouds churned like raging rivers across the sky, cascading over ridges and through valleys in a silver torrent. Amidst this sea of mist, the serpent floated upon a peak, rising and falling with the cloud currents.
Decades of swallowing clouds had honed its instincts – with satisfying results.
The cultivation gave purpose to its solitary existence.
As an egg-born creature, the serpent had never known parents or siblings. Snakes didn’t form familial bonds – if anything, they fought. For over thirty years, the white serpent had lived completely alone, a true recluse among reptiles.
Finishing its practice, it descended the mountain in a rush of scaled wind.
Lately, trouble had arisen – bizarre trouble.
For reasons unknown, large snakes kept invading its territory, refusing to leave. Annoyed, it had taken to using its size advantage to fling them away. But for every one tossed aside, two more appeared.
Now another serpent swayed before it in an odd dance, following relentlessly.
Furious, the white serpent clamped onto the intruder’s head and hurled it into the distance.
Only much later would it understand what was happening…
Life became unbearable. Sleep under the ginkgo tree? Interrupted. Cultivation on the cliffs? Disrupted.
When five more snakes appeared, the white serpent fled at speeds no ordinary snake could match.
Yet even in new locations, they found it.
Exasperated, it decided on a solution.
Gazing toward the path Wang Da had once taken, it felt an urge – to see the human world. Having been reborn in ancient times, shouldn’t it experience the era properly?
Just a peek at the forest’s edge would suffice – no need to risk leaving the trees.
Without possessions or obligations to weigh it down, the serpent set off, following the fading human scent trail in characteristic S-shaped movements.
Two days later.
Signs of human activity grew frequent – charred fire pits beneath rain-sheltering boulders, axe marks on trees, simple traps. The outer forests held few large animals – just pheasants, rabbits, foxes, and ubiquitous rodents.
Finally, it reached the woodland’s edge – and saw the village.
First impression: Poor
Second impression: Destitute
The saying “so poor they don’t have a pot to piss in” didn’t even apply here – they lacked the pot to begin with.
At the valley’s foot clustered dilapidated thatched huts. Rice paddies lined the stream where two gaunt men listlessly worked a waterwheel. A bony yellow dog trotted along field ridges. Even the rats looked underfed.
Twenty households. Less than a hundred souls. A village barely worthy of the name.
The herbalist had mentioned his son’s family, but the serpent didn’t know them.
Just a quick look, then back to the mountains. Perhaps those bothersome snakes would have given up by then.
Thus began the serpent’s observation period.
But the villagers soon noticed something amiss…
“Strange business”
one farmer remarked
“Yesterday I saw rats fleeing the fields like refugees – carrying their young! Chickens won’t roost, dogs bark endlessly… There’s something unnatural about it.”