Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wilderness Chapter Forty-Six: Enlightenment

Under the moonlight.

Yu Ye walked leisurely along the village path, cradling his longsword. From the elder's words, he had learned that on nights when the moon was full, the village well would emit a strange sound. Though the old man advised him to ignore it, curiosity tugged at him, compelling him to see for himself and uncover the truth. He had fetched water there before and knew the place well.

The well lay a hundred yards away, nestled in the woods at the northern edge of the village.

"Bubbling, bubbling—"

In no time, the woods appeared before him. The faint, distant sound grew clearer, resembling the boiling of water in an iron pot—especially eerie in the stillness of night.

Yu Ye halted at the edge of the woods. A narrow, broken-stone path, seven or eight yards long, led to a clearing. There stood a well platform, built of stone, square and sturdy, rising more than a foot high. At its center was a well-mouth four or five feet across, beside which stood a wooden pulley.

The bubbling sound was now distinct, and a mist slowly rose from the well. Yu Ye was about to investigate when he glanced back.

Two figures approached from afar. One had a long saber at his waist and held a crossbow; the other had his right hand behind his back and swung his empty left sleeve. They moved silently, one after the other, and within moments arrived at the edge of the woods.

Yuan Jiu and Mo Can?

Yu Ye raised his brows but paid them no mind.

The mist rising from the well grew denser, soon enveloping the entire platform. Strangely, the mist lingered without dispersing, and the bubbling persisted.

Yu Ye’s gaze sharpened, and he could not help but be slightly taken aback. His naked eyes revealed nothing unusual, but when he stirred his spiritual sense, the scene within the mist became clear.

A snake was crawling out of the well.

Sure enough, a large white serpent, its scales shimmering silver, blood-red eyes glowing, emerged. As it slithered out, it exhaled mist. With the bubbling sound fading, the serpent fully emerged, its body as thick as a barrel and three or four yards long, coiling atop the well platform. Its head rose high, tongue flicking crimson, breathing heavily in and out.

At that moment, the moon shone bright and full, bathing the woods in silvery light.

What was the serpent doing—was it absorbing the moon’s essence?

Yu Ye stared, dumbfounded.

If his guess was correct, the white serpent was cultivating. According to the elder, it had been hiding in the well, training for over a century. If it attained enlightenment, what would become of it?

Yu Ye recalled the events of Spirit Flood Gorge, shaking his head in silence.

This serpent differed from the man-eating one in Spirit Flood Gorge; it never harmed innocent villagers, perhaps even protected this small village. It possessed a rare intelligence, masking its form with mist during cultivation to prevent startling anyone.

Yu Ye, having uncovered the truth, decided to leave.

Once, he knew nothing, his world limited to Star Origin Valley. But since gaining powers, learning techniques, reading ancient texts, the world before him had transformed. All things possess spirit—horses, dogs, and so too this serpent, awakened and striving for enlightenment. Why disturb it?

He was about to turn away when his expression changed.

Yuan Jiu, standing nearby, evidently unable to see through the mist, grew restless and raised his crossbow.

"Don’t—"

Yu Ye called out urgently, but it was too late.

A twang split the air; an arrow shot forth.

A soft thud—mist scattered, and the serpent’s form appeared, twisting and shuddering, its head lashing in distress and panic. Caught off guard during its cultivation, the serpent had no defense; perhaps it had grown too accustomed to the villagers’ kindness, forgetting the dangers of the world.

Yuan Jiu, startled by his own shot, did not retreat. Instead, greed and madness flashed across his face as he reloaded and charged forward.

Yu Ye thought to intervene, then reconsidered.

The serpent, now aware of its assailant, coiled and sprang up, wind whistling, mist torn asunder. With a crack, it shattered the pulley and lunged straight at Yuan Jiu.

Yuan Jiu, darting forward, was too late to evade. He dropped to his knees, loosing another arrow with his left hand, stabbing upward with his saber in his right. The arrow struck the serpent’s vital spot; the saber plunged into its belly. Abandoning the crossbow, now gripping the blade with both hands, he stayed kneeling as the serpent’s momentum carried it forward. In that flash, its belly ripped open, blood spilling. He threw away his saber, rolled flat, sprang up with a kick, and as the serpent turned in pain, he plunged a short dagger deep into its skull.

With a thunderous crash, the serpent—three or four yards long—fell, rolled twice, and lay still. Dust swirled, mist lingered. The moon above remained gleaming and serene.

Yu Ye watched in silence, a complex emotion rising in his chest.

Yuan Jiu, truly a master of the martial world, ruthless among the ruthless, had slain an enlightened serpent in the blink of an eye. His cunning and skill rivaled that of Old Feng Qi, surpassing him in cold-bloodedness.

A serpent, alive for centuries, just glimpsing the mysteries of heaven, perished at the hands of a man of the martial world. Was this the serpent’s tragedy, or humanity’s descent? Was it the hardship of cultivation, or the mercilessness of fate?

"A spirit creature, guardian of its land. The village is doomed, retribution is coming, alas—"

It was Mo Can, sighing softly, his scarred face showing rare sympathy. In his rusty voice, he added, "Tomorrow morning, the villagers will learn of the spirit’s death. The women, children, and elders will fight desperately; none of us will escape!"

Yuan Jiu, searching the serpent’s belly with his blade, ignored Mo Can’s warning. Soon, he held a bloody serpent gall, nodding in satisfaction.

"A three-hundred-year-old white serpent gall—worth a fortune!"

Mo Can, usually silent, was unusually vocal tonight.

Yuan Jiu wiped the gall, tucked it away, then dragged the serpent’s corpse to the well. Heavy and cumbersome, he growled, "Boy, come here—"

He ordered Yu Ye to help dispose of the serpent, hiding the evidence. His words, sharp and murderous, brooked no refusal.

Yu Ye stepped back, curled his lip, rolled his eyes, and strode away, refusing to bow to the likes of Pan Yuan and Yuan Jiu.

Yuan Jiu watched Yu Ye’s retreating figure, indifferent. "Blind one—"

He called Mo Can, who hadn’t left. Whether "blind one" was meant as insult, he didn’t care.

Mo Can nodded, "The skin is mine."

Yu Ye, leaving the woods behind, slowed his pace.

Behind him, two strange men jointly destroyed evidence. Yuan Jiu killed for profit, Mo Can claimed the skin—what purpose did it serve?

Yu Ye returned to the millstone at the village entrance, setting down his sword.

Ji Yan still slept soundly, now clutching a cleaver. Pan Yuan sprawled on the wooden bench, feigning sleep, yet grunted in his direction. The host’s little dog still hid in the straw shed, perhaps the only one sensing the murderous tension lingering in the night.

Yu Ye sat cross-legged atop the millstone, holding a spirit stone, breathing in and out, pondering his armor-piercing talisman.

Half an hour later, Yuan Jiu and Mo Can returned. Pan Yuan and Ji Yan seemed to sense something, rising to greet them, whispering among themselves before each busied away.

When Yu Ye opened his eyes from meditation, darkness enveloped him.

The full moon had vanished, clouds obscuring the sky. Wind rose, trees rustled wildly.

The weather had changed!

Was this retribution for Yuan Jiu’s killing of the white serpent?

Ji Yan had readied the wagon; Mo Can knocked on the innkeeper’s door to wake the family, and even Pan Yuan climbed onto a wagon. They were preparing to leave in the dark, ahead of schedule.

Yu Ye stowed his spirit stone, grabbed his sword, jumped off the millstone, and walked to his black horse. Just as he finished packing, the two wagons rolled toward the village gate.

The old man from the neighboring house, roused by the commotion, opened his door, wrapped in his coat, and muttered, "The fourth watch has just passed—why the rush, what’s happened?"

"Old sir!"

Yu Ye dropped the reins, walked over, and pressed a small pouch into the old man's hand. He meant to say something, perhaps a farewell, but instead turned silently away.

Mounting his horse, he rode out of the village.

Looking back from horseback, he saw the old man still standing at his door, holding up the pouch. That was the gold and silver given to Yu Ye by Zhong Jian, now entirely gifted to a stranger he had met by chance.

A dark shadow darted over—the host’s little dog—pausing at the village entrance, its small body trembling in the wind.

Yu Ye waved to the dog, then urged his horse onto the main road.

Ahead, a torch and two lanterns glowed.

Yuan Jiu led with the torch; each wagon behind carried a lantern marked with the character "Kuang," denoting the innkeeper’s family.

Just as he caught up to Ji Yan’s wagon, Ji Yan tossed something.

"Catch—"

Yu Ye reached out, grabbing a silk purse.

Ji Yan called, "Last night the innkeeper left payment for lodging; don’t meddle next time!"

Yu Ye weighed the purse, tucking it away.

Innkeeper Kuang seemed timid, yet knew everything? This was a return of his gold and silver, even more than he had just given away.

The wind howled, dust swirling across the road.

Not far along, Yuan Jiu’s torch was extinguished. The lanterns on the wagons swung wildly in the gusts.

Moments later, fat raindrops began to fall, pattering down...