Chapter 40:
A Strange Case of Male Pregnancy (Part 5):
“No, Don’t Hate Me…”
The snake hadn’t silenced him. He continued, his voice calm and steady. “A snake fetus, just a parasite. And you, you’re an even more disgusting worm.”
“Long worm,” a derogatory term for snakes, a curse disguised as a nickname. Snakes dreamt of becoming dragons, despising the comparison to insects. His mocking tone made the snake’s pupils narrow into slits.
The snake opened its jaws, its tongue flicking out.
“Get lost,” Chen Henian said coldly.
The snake’s coiling body froze, its tongue still tasting the air, a scent that, to a snake, was like the approach of a mongoose, its natural predator.
It reared its head, its movements agitated.
Something was threatening it, something terrifying.
It was a white snake, larger than a python, its fangs likely venomous. Pythons constricted their prey, crushing their bones before swallowing them whole. Black water seeped from between its coils, a viscous liquid like corpse oil, the sound of dripping water echoing through the valley.
The black water spread, engulfing the snake’s tail, its grip tightening, turning into a hand, its fingers piercing the snake’s scales. The snake thrashed, its head snapping back, exhaling sharply, suddenly the prey.
The pressure around Chen Henian’s body vanished. The hands gripping the snake’s tail pulled, straightening its coils, then swung it, smashing it against the rocks.
A loud crash, the rocks shattering beneath its weight.
Chen Henian fell, the black water rising quickly, taking on a human form, the ghost appearing before him.
It caught him, gently placing him on the ground.
Chen Henian’s feet touched the stone, his fingers tracing the warm red string on his hand, his wet hair clinging to his face, his smile cold and mocking, his skin as cold as his eyes.
The immense ghost behind him amplified his disdain, its voice a low growl. “Worm, you dare…”
The snake, sensing the threat, its eyes widening in fear, realizing the difference in their power, plunged into the water, disappearing beneath the surface, the spring overflowing, the water rising rapidly.
The small spring became a deep pool, its depths unfathomable, the snake nowhere in sight.
This was the snake’s dream, its domain.
As the water threatened to engulf the rocks, the ghost stepped forward, shielding Chen Henian, the water receding before it, pushed back by a powerful wind. Black water emerged from beneath the ghost’s feet, spreading across the surface of the pool.
It was a part of its essence, claiming the pool, turning the clear water black as ink.
The ghost, towering above, its gaze piercing the depths, raised its hand, and the water in the center of the pool dipped, as if a giant stone had been dropped. It clenched its fist, then lifted it—
The white snake was pulled from the water, bound by ropes of black water, trapped in the ghost’s grasp, its struggles futile.
The snake’s body was twisted, its scales contorted, the white scales falling like sparks. The ghost tightened its grip, and Chen Henian heard the sickening crunch of bones, the snake’s spine shattering. The snake opened its mouth, its fangs bared, a silent scream, its breath like a torn lung, a gasp of agony.
A broken tail was a death sentence for a snake. The shadow beneath it, its four legs now three, its cultivation destroyed.
If it survived, it would be just an ordinary snake, its power gone.
The snake didn’t beg for mercy, and the ghost showed no compassion. The dream began to collapse, the rocks crumbling, the sky falling, the water receding.
Time was up. Chen Henian woke up.
He sat up abruptly. It wasn’t night yet, the rain still falling outside. The ghost stood beside him, the snake in its hand.
The white snake had shrunk to the size of an ordinary snake, its head trapped in the ghost’s grip, its tail coiling uselessly, each movement bringing more pain.
“I want to kill it,” the ghost said, turning to Chen Henian.
“Not yet,” Chen Henian replied. He needed to understand the snake’s motives first.
“I want to kill it,” the ghost repeated, its voice cold and firm, its grip tightening.
It wasn’t pleased, its eyes narrowed into black slits.
Chen Henian hesitated. The ghost wasn’t going to let go. What should he say?
This was a powerful ghost, and he hadn’t yet figured out how to control it.
He simply moved it away from the snake, reminding himself that the great ghost had forgotten its true nature, forgotten their pact. Until it remembered, it couldn’t harm him. Its violence was simply its nature as a ghost.
He remained silent, a strange, unfamiliar feeling rising within him, a sense of… reliance.
With this ghost inside him, he didn’t have to fear other spirits. He had been so confident in its protection that he hadn’t even prepared for the snake’s arrival.
This wasn’t right, not like him. He bit his lip, annoyed with himself.
As he lowered his head in self-reproach, he heard a sharp crack, the scent of anger filling the air.
He looked up and saw the snake lying on the floor, trembling.
The ghost had thrown it, its scales broken, blood oozing from its wounds.
It had stopped, its dark eyes, filled with a swirling black liquid, fixed on Chen Henian.
It was strangely silent, like a statue.
Then, its eyes glowed red, its fingers lengthening, turning into sharp claws, a low growl rumbling in its chest, its rage filling the room. It lunged at Chen Henian.
Chen Henian was startled, the ghost’s face inches from his, its breath hot against his skin.
He leaned back against the bedpost as the ghost’s hand smashed through the wood. He was afraid it would lose control and devour him. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm, reaching for his suitcase.
The ghost stared at him, its breathing slowing, its voice soft. “Don’t be afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid of me.”
Its voice was softer now, less aggressive. “If you don’t like it, I won’t do it.”
“No, don’t hate me…”
It stood before him, its hands reaching out, then retracting, as if afraid of its own monstrous form, then, in its own way, lowered its head, nuzzling against his neck.
The touch was cold, ticklish. Chen Henian didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the ghost.
Red tears flowed from its crimson eyes.
Tears of stone.
He finally understood. The ghost could hear his thoughts, his fear, his doubts, but it couldn’t fully understand them, only recognizing happiness and sadness, like and dislike.
Dislike meant hate, and it didn’t want to hear him express hate.
The ghost’s aura had shifted, its emotions becoming more pronounced as its ability to speak improved. But it didn’t act on its anger, only looking at him with a strange mixture of longing and regret.
“I…” Chen Henian hesitated. “I don’t hate you.”
“You’re good,” he said.
The sharp claws on the ghost’s hands retracted. It lowered its head, as if wanting to hear his words more clearly, then calmed down, tilting its head in confusion. “I don’t know… why I was angry.”
“I don’t know… you… wait for me…”
“Will understand…”
“I’m sorry…”
It lowered its head, closed its eyes, and dissolved, the black shadow at its feet returning to Chen Henian’s back.
As the ghost vanished, the snake stirred, slithering towards the door, which wasn’t fully latched, and escaped.
Chen Henian reacted instantly, grabbing the mirror from his suitcase and chasing after it.
He flung the mirror across the room as he ran out the door.
“Da Huang! Catch it!”
He wasn’t ready to kill the snake yet, but he wouldn’t let it escape.
The mirror ghost emerged, its face red with anger. “Why did you throw my mirror?!” It glared at Chen Henian, the mirror lying on the floor, a phantom pain echoing through its form.
Chen Henian had taken precautions. Zuo He was guarding the door, and the young Daoist had learned something after all, his swordsmanship surprisingly adept.
As the snake slithered out, Zuo He’s sword pinned it to the ground.
He looked at Chen Henian. “Is this it?”
“Yes,” Chen Henian replied. “Trap it.”
The mirror ghost floated over, looking at Zuo He’s wooden sword with disdain. “Another Daoist? How annoying.”
Zuo He lifted his sword, and the mirror ghost swallowed the snake whole. Chen Henian picked up the mirror.
A snake appeared in the mirror’s reflection.
“A white snake… a spirit snake,” Zuo He said. “Why would it cause harm?”
The snake in the mirror heard him, its eyes flashing with resentment.
Yunan, a damp and humid region, its mountains a haven for snakes, with no natural predators, had become Snake Mountain, its energy nurturing spirit beasts.
Snakes were among them.
Snakes could become powerful spirits, worshipped in some folk religions.
And in human stories, the most common was the beautiful snake woman, half-human, half-snake, luring scholars to their deaths.
Yang Zhen had read such stories. He wasn’t afraid of snakes.
