Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Serpent Crisis

“Going mad!” In Xiaoshan’s mind, there was no such thing as madness or sanity—he simply felt as if his body had suddenly merged with a strange new sensation. It was as though something that once belonged to him, yet had been lost, had now returned to his body, bringing a peculiar and profound comfort.

Xiaoshan remained silent; with his current knowledge he had no idea what was happening to his body.

“So, do you think Father will scold us when we go back?” Ruoxi asked again, seeing that Xiaoshan hadn’t replied for a long time.

“He’ll definitely scold us,” Xiaoshan answered, opening his drowsy eyes. “Whether it’s harsh or gentle probably depends on your attitude.”

“Ah, time passes so quickly without us noticing—it’s almost noon already!” Ruoxi sighed, tilting her head back.

“Yeah, I don’t even know what I did all night; it’s already almost noon!” Xiaoshan replied with a wry smile. He had spent almost the entire day in a state of unconsciousness, completely oblivious to the passage of time.

“Are you feeling better?” Ruoxi turned her head, looking at Xiaoshan, whose head was still resting on her shoulder.

Her voice sounded distant and ethereal, as if from another world, pulling Xiaoshan’s wandering thoughts abruptly back to reality. So, she wanted him to get off her back.

His bright, limpid eyes snapped open as if shining with light, and he felt a strange energy surging within his chest, spreading through his limbs along his meridians.

Clenching his fists, he realized the weakness had completely vanished, replaced by boundless strength.

Ruoxi seemed to sense something. She paused, feeling the weight on her back suddenly lift, and straightened her hunched waist in surprise, turning to look behind her.

Xiaoshan was standing there, right hand clenched into a fist, left hand grasping his right wrist, marveling at the newfound strength in his body.

“You’re not weak anymore!” Ruoxi exclaimed, tilting her head and circling around Xiaoshan in amazement.

At sunrise, he’d been so weak he passed out, and now, before noon, he was full of vigor. Even for a martial artist, recovery didn’t come this quickly.

“I feel full of energy now—how could I be weak?” Xiaoshan retorted.

“You were so weak this morning you fell asleep! If I hadn’t carried you, you’d have been eaten by wild beasts!” Ruoxi huffed in annoyance.

“Really?” He paused, scratching his head, and realized she was right.

“Hmph! If I’d known, I’d have thrown you to the beasts!” Ruoxi snapped, pouting angrily.

Standing with her hands on her hips, she glared at Xiaoshan, only to find he had no reaction at all, which made her even angrier.

She prepared to stride towards him, but saw Xiaoshan moving first, his right hand raised, his eyes fixed intently ahead.

He’s not looking at me! This was Ruoxi’s first thought.

Instantly alert, she turned her head.

Her pupils widened in shock—a massive snake’s head, as large as a human’s, was reflected in her eyes, its gaze glowing green.

The next instant, she felt a strong arm press her down, her face pressed into the grass.

A gigantic snake shadow swept over her head, the icy wind whistling with a chilling intensity.

Before she could react, a powerful arm wrapped her close with all its strength, and Xiaoshan’s voice shouted, “Roll!”

In those few seconds, it felt as though she had lived through several lifetimes, tumbling from one side of the path to the other. She never imagined that, faced with mortal danger, Xiaoshan would care for her so deeply.

Turning her head, Ruoxi saw Xiaoshan’s body, which had been standing tall, suddenly drop. His left knee hit the ground, his right hand braced against the earth, and he gasped for breath.

Such a strenuous movement would be difficult for anyone, let alone someone just recovering from grave injuries.

Ruoxi’s heart filled with anxiety, uncertain about Xiaoshan’s condition, and she followed his gaze.

Before her was a monstrous snake, its head as large as a man’s, eyes glowing green, tongue flicking in and out. There was no doubt—this creature would be a formidable foe.

Its body, as thick as a barrel, could easily have bitten her, and if it had coiled around her, she wouldn’t have stood a chance. All her previous worries now seemed trivial.

Xiaoshan knelt on one knee, his left arm trembling. A moment earlier, the enormous snake had nearly bitten him—if not for his desperate strength to dodge, his left arm might have been poisoned.

The next instant, Xiaoshan’s pupils contracted—the snake’s thick body, following its head, darted straight at him.

The surrounding leaves shuddered and rustled as the snake’s body moved, its form flickering in and out of sight among the jungle’s shadows.

Xiaoshan wiped the cold sweat from his brow, braced his left leg to rise, but his face twisted in pain and his left knee dropped to the ground again.

The serpent loomed ever larger in his eyes, its mouth wide open, long fangs gleaming in the light.