Chapter 37: Contingency, Old Friends

“Hiss~”

“Zzz~”

Two snake heads darted out of the den, weaving through tall grass and ferns, flicking their tongues as they searched for a particular scent.

Following the trail, they circled outside the lair, and, drawn by the lingering aroma, the bramble-headed serpent found itself once again before the medicinal cauldron inside the cave.

Within the cauldron, the centipede with its twenty segments lay coiled, perfectly still.

Outside, Ji Ming was curled atop a branch, watching as his decoy shell had successfully lured the bramble-headed snake back into the cave. Only then did he leave, relieved.

Before closing himself off in seclusion, Yu Xiao had prepared enough poisonous food in the cauldron to last a week.

Typically, Yu Xiao’s meditations lasted about half a month; after a week, a servant boy would come to replenish the poison bait.

Thus, Ji Ming would have to return in another week.

He climbed to the treetop, facing the fierce mountain wind that swept over the canopy. Opening his mouthparts, he let out streams of wind.

Though he wasn’t a bird in this life, and his mastery of the shadowy wind art was progressing far slower than in his past incarnation, it was still sufficient for his needs.

Sensing the force of the wind, he flexed his lower segments, launching himself upward, then contracting his body into a segment the length of a finger bone, as slender as a chopstick.

“Whoosh~”

Buffeted by the mountain gusts, Ji Ming was lifted aloft, his own exhaled currents cradling his small body.

“Hoo~”

In the roaring wind, Ji Ming vented the pent-up frustrations he’d long harbored.

After so many days at Yu Xiao’s side, scheming and guarding against him, Ji Ming felt he was turning into a venomous fiend himself.

The mountain wind swept through the valleys; Ji Ming floated within it like a tiny leaf, his flight clumsy and erratic. Without his art to steady him, he would have fallen long ago.

The snake den wasn’t far from Hengshan, though not within its bounds.

To reach Hengshan, he had to ride the strong northeast wind, often alighting in treetops to catch the right direction.

Fortunately, luck was with him; today’s gales blew mostly due east.

Swept along, he soared above peaks and forests.

Another gust, and rows of hills fell away behind him.

Guiding the wind, Ji Ming landed atop a wild grass leaf on the western slope of Hengshan, shaking the leaf violently.

In his past life, he had flown over these regions around Hengshan countless times.

Though it had always been to gather wild honey and recruit the mouse hordes, he knew the terrain of Hengshan intimately.

With a brief circuit, he quickly determined his location.

Dispelling his miniature transformation, Ji Ming moved his pairs of legs, darting through the undergrowth like a streak of black, racing toward the southeastern slope.

...

Outside the southeastern slope, the small pond remained unchanged.

A spread of duckweed, clusters of water plants, and five or six wild lotus leaves—just as they had been on countless days before.

Suddenly, a black streak shot into the water, as swift as an arrow from the bank, barely raising a ripple as it vanished beneath the surface.

Once the ripples faded and calm returned, the pond seemed... unchanged.

Yet soon, a faint crimson glow emerged from somewhere deep below, the murky light filtered through layers of water.

In the next moment, the glow vanished, replaced by faint sounds of chewing and tearing.

After a long while, all sounds ceased. The fish, turtles, and shrimp in the pond lay low, keeping far from a particular underwater hollow.

Within that hollow, a source of warmth began to spread, radiating heat into the pond.

A day passed in this way. When the bright moon reached its zenith, the warmth in the hollow finally subsided, and a long, pale arm reached out from the depths.

“It’s done!”

That hand gripped and kneaded the muddy bottom, savoring once more the sensation of having human limbs.

“It’s time to go.”

On the pond’s surface, something as dark as ebony floated up, its shape twisting.

From either side, limbs as pale as young lotus roots—arms and legs—stretched out, splashing in the water.

The scene was grotesque, like some long-limbed monster that had fallen in by accident, struggling awkwardly in the pond.

It wasn’t that Ji Ming couldn’t swim, but he wasn’t yet used to these new limbs.

At last, after consuming the century-old red ginseng, Ji Ming had succeeded in reshaping his form—though not completely; he had only managed to grow arms and legs.

He looked like a patchwork spirit.

But swallowing that ancient ginseng, reshaping his body wasn’t the true goal. As he had planned, within his centipede form, the paternal bloodline was fully awakened.

On his back, water clung to each glossy black segment, trembling and forming tiny beads.

Upon closer inspection, there appeared faint patterns—delicate, transparent wings, like those of a dragonfly, tightly folded along each segment, fitting perfectly without a gap.

The water droplets sprang up as the wings unfolded and quivered ever so slightly.

These wings came from his father’s side—descendants of an elder in the Great Mountain of Panhu, a lineage as ancient as time.

With a century-old red ginseng, Ji Ming drew forth this bloodline—not simply to gain power in this life, but for a purpose yet to be fully realized, one that required careful thought and mental preparation. Otherwise, it might cast a shadow over lifetimes to come.

He crawled ashore in the night, swaying unsteadily upright upon his two long legs. His segmented body wobbled, two lengthy arms flailing awkwardly, unable to walk properly.

He looked terrifying—enough to frighten someone to death.

Even Ji Ming himself dared not look at his reflection in the pond, for fear of nightmares.

Lying flat, he felt much more comfortable. The wings on his back trembled, soon lifting his centipede body off the ground.

His long arms and legs dangling beneath him made him look even stranger than before.

A sigh welled within him. Cultivating an immortal spirit was his pursuit—yet now he seemed to be striding boldly into Lovecraftian horror.

He glanced toward the direction of the Shibai Stronghold—he’d retrieve Lady Zhang’s talismanic texts later.

For now, what mattered most was the treasure-forging method he’d acquired from Mud Lord: the White Bone Heart-Pearl. It would be a crucial tool to counter Yu Xiao.

Once the artifact was forged—or even roughly refined—Yu Xiao would be at his mercy.

The trinity must converge, five energies flow to their source.

Artifacts of this kind, forged for battle, were only seen and wielded by those who had reached the second stage of cultivation, “Five Energies to the Origin.”

In this remote borderland of the Lanyin region, such treasures were rare even among mid- and lower-level cultivators.

“No rush.”

Ji Ming spoke aloud, “I still have some time, some old friends... some old favors.”

Returning to the pond, Ji Ming slipped into the underwater hollow and fetched a withered crow’s corpse.

“Let’s go. Once I’ve prepared everything, it’s time to visit your ‘student’!

Whether my Heart-Pearl can be forged may well depend on that Master Hu, so skilled at borrowing the talents of others.”

With the poisoned barb gripping the crow’s corpse, Ji Ming vibrated his transparent wings, and flew toward the fox clan’s settlement deep in the mountains.