Chapter Thirty-Three: The Giant Serpent

Waking from his meditative state, Bing Yan calculated that half a year had somehow slipped by. They say the years of cultivation pass like flowing water—so it was true. Yet if other cultivators knew he had advanced from the Radiant Reflection stage to the Golden Core stage in only six months, they would surely go mad. Even the fastest among them had taken nearly a century to reach this level, and as for him—one could only describe it as riding a rocket.

He stood, straightened his robe, dusted himself off, and strode into the small hut. Some might wonder why he remained outside during his meditation—was he not afraid of wind and rain? Of course not. In that state, a shield of energy enveloped his body, protecting him from the elements.

He glanced around; Mo Wuxie was not inside. A familiar voice called from the doorway, “Looking for me?” Bing Yan turned quickly. Who else could it be but his Grandpa Mo?

“You’re something else, boy. Woke up from your first meditation in just six months—and broke through to the Golden Core stage, at that,” Grandpa Mo said.

In cultivation, the quality of one’s potential is often judged by the length of their first meditation—the longer, the better, all else equal. But there are exceptions—like Bing Yan, whose time in meditation was brief, but whose progress was dazzling. Who else could reach the Golden Core stage in just half a year? Some labor for a century and reach only the Heart Motion stage; what use is that?

Bing Yan scratched his head sheepishly. “It was just luck,” he said.

“Nonsense!” Grandpa Mo’s face darkened. “All things are destined. How can you call it mere luck? Your opportunities are yours alone—what you call luck is nothing more than what was always meant to be.”

Bing Yan was left speechless.

Mo Wuxie waved a hand. “Enough chatter. You’ve reached the Golden Core stage—your cultivation is sufficient, but you still lack experience. Well? Are you ready to enter the Trial Forest?”

With a swish, Bing Yan gripped his blue longsword. The brilliant azure light cast eerie shadows around the dim little hut. “I’m ready.”

“Good!” Mo Wuxie laughed heartily. “Then go. I’ll wait for your return. Remember, bring back the five Primordial Attributes.” With a grand sweep of his arm, Bing Yan discovered he was suddenly standing in the midst of a verdant forest. He was momentarily stunned. “Who is Grandpa Mo, really? How can he possess such powers? Is he an immortal, a god? No—whenever he spoke of gods, he always seemed scornful. Could Grandpa really be stronger than a god?”

He shook his head vigorously. Stronger than a god? At his current stage, he dared not even imagine becoming an immortal, let alone a deity.

He surveyed his surroundings. Towering ancient trees soared skyward, their emerald canopies forming a dense roof. Occasionally, the call of a bird broke the profound silence of the forest.

Perhaps no one had ever set foot here—the undergrowth had grown so thick it nearly swallowed Bing Yan’s knees, with stubborn brambles interspersed among the grasses.

“What if a snake slithers out of there?” Bing Yan thought nervously. Perhaps it was some instinctive mammalian fear of reptiles. He pictured a small, slender head, tongue flickering, and shuddered involuntarily.

He swung his blue sword, which now served as a machete, hacking a path through the tangled undergrowth.

Then, from a distance, came a hissing sound. Bing Yan paused, listening intently. “No way… Is it really a snake?”

How unlucky. Moments later, a massive serpent burst from the grass. Its body was thicker than Bing Yan’s waist. “It could swallow me whole!” On closer look, it was a huge green python. Are there really pythons this shade of green? And so enormous?

No matter. The instant the giant snake appeared, Bing Yan felt a chill in his heart and prepared to flee.

Fortunately, he was now a Golden Core cultivator. Even if he couldn’t yet unleash the full combat power of his stage, his cultivation was more than enough to escape.

As he ran, he glanced back. He’d never seen such a colossal python in his life—an experience that didn’t even require a ticket. The only drawback was that the python’s target was himself; in its eyes, he must have looked like a juicy morsel.

To his dismay, no matter how far he ran, the giant python kept up, relentless in pursuit. Bing Yan cursed his luck. He ran faster and faster, feeling lighter with each step as the Feathery Violet Qi within him circulated rapidly.

This Feathery Violet Qi was truly marvelous—when not in use, it fused with his flesh; when needed, it could be summoned forth at will.

Perhaps the python had not eaten in a long while and was loath to give up its prey. The faster Bing Yan ran, the faster it chased, never letting him slip away.

With no other choice, Bing Yan ran for his life. After a good while, he realized the hissing behind him had ceased. Looking back, the python had vanished.

“What happened? Did the python lose interest?” Bing Yan wondered, puzzled.

At that moment, a disturbance ahead caught his attention. Having reached the Golden Core stage, his senses were far sharper than before. In an instant, he readied his defenses and leapt back several steps.

A tremendous hiss echoed through the trees as a vast maw lunged at him—it was the same python. Bing Yan was relieved he had stopped; had he mindlessly kept running, he would have dashed straight into its jaws—or rather, its fangs.

Damn it. He was a Golden Core cultivator, his meridians open, nourished by the breath of heaven; he no longer needed mortal food. Compared to this python, he was at least as strong as someone at the Heart Motion stage. Yet here he was, being chased like prey—infuriating!

He stepped forward, squaring his stance, blue sword raised. A faint azure light shimmered along the blade as the Feathery Violet Qi surged within him. The sword clashed against the snake’s fangs with a ringing note.

A powerful force jolted through the sword, making Bing Yan’s hand go numb. It took a moment to recover. The python was not so lucky—its formidable fangs were sheared off at the moment of contact.

The serpent thrashed violently, blood gushing from its maw, writhing in a frenzy. Bing Yan dared not approach, so he retreated a few steps.

Was it really that simple? Was this all it took to deal with the snake?

Buoyed by his initial success, Bing Yan’s confidence soared, banishing his instinctive fear of snakes. Strike while the iron is hot—he recalled Mo Wuxie’s words: “Only the fittest survive; the strong thrive, the weak perish.” Without hesitation, he pressed his attack, sword poised, facing off against the now-weakened python.

Suddenly, the snake quivered in terror, turned, and fled—faster than it had pursued Bing Yan moments before. How quickly the tables turned: the hunter and hunted had switched roles.

Bing Yan was not about to let this golden opportunity slip by. With the python’s back to him, it was the perfect moment to strike. Man and beast raced through the forest, Bing Yan surging forward with the full power of his Feathery Violet Qi—finally unleashing the strength befitting a cultivator of the Golden Core stage.