Chapter 117: Endless Serpents

Deep within the remote mountains, beneath the pitch-black night, a campfire blazed at the foot of a slanting hill, its light illuminating the surroundings. By the faint glow, Zhou Qing noticed a small creature resembling a squirrel at the forest’s edge not far off. It balanced on its hind legs, cradling a green plantain in its forepaws, nibbling away while casting curious glances toward the array.

The little animal was just like a bystander at a spectacle, occasionally emitting strange cries, its gaze filled with childlike wonder as though it had never seen humans before. Soon, prompted by its odd calls, several more of its kind scampered over, lining up side by side like a row of children, all peering inquisitively at the people within the array.

The forest creatures watched the humans within the formation, and those within the formation gazed back with equal curiosity at the little animals standing in a row at the forest’s edge.

“Senior sister, look at those little fellows—they’re completely unafraid of people. Compared to the animals outside the woods, this is truly extraordinary,” Yun Ruo whispered softly as she watched the line of small creatures.

Just then, the foremost of the little animals let out a sharp cry, tossed aside its green plantain, and in a flash, darted into the grass at the forest’s edge. Its companions followed suit, squealing in alarm as they vanished into the undergrowth.

From the reaction of these animals, something terrifying must be approaching, something that filled them with dread. For those inside the formation, the first thought that came to mind was a serpent.

No sooner had the small creatures disappeared into the woods than Long Aotian rose to his feet, sword in hand. Almost immediately, the animals’ shrill screams echoed from the grass, and a head emerged from the thicket—a massive green python, thick as a rice bowl, poked its head out, a bloodied little animal clamped in its jaws.

At the sight of the python, Long Aotian sprang forward, sword flashing. The serpent, seeing him rush over, spat the mangled little animal at him and then lunged from the grass, fangs bared.

A chilling hiss cut through the night, but with a single mighty stroke, Long Aotian severed the serpent’s head. The body writhed on the ground as he kicked the carcass back into the undergrowth and returned to the array, sword in hand.

After the green python was slain, silence settled over the area. No more animals appeared, nor did any night birds call. Only the crackling of the campfire within the array and the hushed conversations of those inside broke the stillness.

About an hour passed in this uneasy calm, when suddenly a strange wind stirred within the forest, carrying with it a faint, pungent stench. Wrinkling her brow at the acrid odor, Yun Ruo was about to speak when a commotion sounded from the forest’s edge. Another giant python coiled around a tree, its head craning toward the people within the array.

This new serpent was also green, but much thicker than the one Long Aotian had slain. Its belly bulged grotesquely, as though it had recently swallowed some enormous prey.

Even as they took in the sight of this tree-bound python, another disturbance arose in the forest, and a coal-black serpent, thick as a rice bowl, lifted its head from the grass. Almost simultaneously, three more massive pythons—one green, one red, and one purple—emerged from different directions, slithering from the woods.

Within the foul stench of the wind, five giant serpents now surrounded them. The eight people inside the array looked on grimly at the menacing spectacle.

The green python on the tree flicked its tongue at them, and the other four opened their gaping maws, fangs gleaming as they all hissed in unison.

“It seems we’ve stumbled into a nest of vipers,” Long Aotian muttered, gripping his sword more tightly, ready to charge out and face the snakes.

“Wait, Aotian,” said Wufeng, halting him just as he was about to move.

“What is it, Senior Brother Wufeng? Do you think I, Long Aotian, would fear—” He broke off mid-sentence, for all around the array, aside from the five giant pythons, countless small snakes were slithering rapidly toward them.

The little snakes moved with incredible speed, reaching the perimeter of the array in the blink of an eye. Gazing at the dense, writhing mass of serpents converging from every direction, those inside the formation stared in stunned silence, none daring to act rashly.

The swarm of small snakes sped to the edge of the array. As they attempted to breach it, a faint golden barrier appeared out of thin air, forming an invisible wall of bronze that kept the serpents at bay.

Though repelled by the array’s barrier, the snakes seemed bewitched—some opened their jaws and spat venom at the shimmering wall, others rammed their heads against it, while still more bit and gnawed relentlessly. Not one of the snakes retreated; all pressed ceaselessly against the golden shield.

In less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the barrier was surrounded by a writhing mass of snakes. Overhead, from the crooked hill above, more serpents tumbled down, landing with dull thuds atop the glowing shield, scattering across its surface.

“Senior brother, let’s go out there and get rid of these snakes,” Ao Xuan said to his senior, and the two of them, each casting a protective spell, drew their swords and dashed out of the array.

The ground outside was crawling with snakes. In the encircling woods, more giant pythons had appeared—seven or eight in addition to the five before, now over a dozen great serpents watched the array with cold, predatory eyes.

Relying on the strength of their protective spells, Ao Xuan and Long Aotian charged into the sea of snakes, unafraid of their venom. With every sweep of their swords, several, sometimes dozens of snakes were cleaved apart, and soon the ground around the array was awash with snake blood and corpses.

Yet more serpents streamed in from the forest, their numbers seemingly endless, an unceasing tide. The giant pythons, though they had emerged, did not attack, but watched from the shadows with sinister intent.

Standing amidst the throng, Ao Xuan and Long Aotian fought valiantly. Within the array, Jing Yun and Jing Xue stared anxiously at the formation’s central banner—the very pole anchoring the protective spell.

The banner now shook violently, as though it might snap at any moment beneath some unseen force. Sharing a glance, the two siblings sat down around the flag and began to concentrate, channeling their energies to stabilize the array.