Chapter Nine: The Pit of Ten Thousand Serpents

Shanpao fell silent, lowering his head in deep thought for a long while before speaking slowly, word by word: “The Black Tiger Hall is not to be trifled with.”

Ye Xin smiled, just about to reply, when Shanpao continued, “I know you’re not afraid. Hmm… What I mean is, I can take you to find them, but I won’t help you fight. If it comes to a brawl, you’ll have to handle it yourself.”

“Alright,” Ye Xin said. “It’s settled, then.”

Shanpao turned and walked toward the corpse of the short man, speaking as he moved, “We’d better hurry. Most of Black Tiger Hall’s elite warriors are already out. That Du Yiqiang is determined to get the Transformation Fruit. Any more delay, and you’ll only see the corpses of the Zong family.”

“I don’t really care what happens to the Zong family,” Ye Xin replied calmly.

“If Du Yiqiang was acting on someone else’s orders, he’ll most likely get rid of the Transformation Fruit as soon as he gets it,” Shanpao said. “That’ll make things much harder for you.”

“You have a point…” Ye Xin frowned. He hadn’t considered that before.

“Let’s go,” Shanpao stuffed the loot he’d found into his belt and was the first to step out of the tree hollow.

Ye Xin led his horse out, but as he neared the entrance, he suddenly remembered something. He turned back and strode quickly to where the little purple mink was still asleep. Picking it up, the mink’s eyes flew open, full of innocence, as if to say, “What’s this about? So rough…”

“Behave, don’t move around, or I’ll skin you and make jerky out of you. Understand?” Ye Xin threatened.

The little mink seemed to understand, for its body began to tremble anew.

Ye Xin pulled out a cloth bag, tossed the mink inside, and tied it to his belt. He then strode outside, glanced around, and said to Shanpao, “We should find another mount.” Actually, this horse was one Ye Xin had carefully selected in Tianyuan City—it could carry several hundred pounds without trouble. But Ye Xin didn’t want to share a mount with anyone. Though Shanpao had shown no signs of betrayal and had no reason to harm him, and could likely be trusted, Ye Xin remained cautious with everyone—he had suffered dearly for this in his past life.

“No need, my two legs are as good as its four,” Shanpao replied with a cheeky grin.

“Really?”

“Just keep up.” Shanpao turned and dashed into the open wilderness.

Ye Xin leaped onto his horse and followed at a measured distance. Shanpao’s way of running was peculiar—he didn’t just run, he bounded, each leap covering more than ten meters, agile as an antelope.

Ye Xin watched closely from behind. Shanpao kept a steady rhythm, suggesting he wasn’t new to running wild in the open. Maintaining such a pace likely helped him conserve energy.

If it were Ye Xin, he wouldn’t waste his strength so recklessly. Otherwise, his spiritual energy would be depleted, and by the time he found the Black Tiger Hall, he might have lost the ability to fight.

After about an hour of running, Shanpao hesitated slightly ahead, changed direction, and sped east.

When Ye Xin reached that point, he too paused briefly before continuing. Ahead lay the center of the wetlands; heading east from here would take them straight to the Great Wei Kingdom.

They ran for another hour until a range of mountains blocked the way. In the distance, Shanpao had stopped, bent over, searching for something in the grass.

Ye Xin rode up and reined in his horse, asking quietly, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I could keep this up for another day and night without a problem,” Shanpao replied, still searching without looking up.

“What are you looking for?” Ye Xin asked.

“Horse dung.” Shanpao finally found what he sought. He snapped off a stick, skewered several pieces of dung, and examined them closely for a moment. “Caravans stick to the main roads—they wouldn’t risk crossing the wetlands and ancient forests. This dung must have been left by the Zong family’s horses and Black Tiger Hall’s warhorses.”

“Oh?”

“They passed here at least five hours ago,” Shanpao frowned. “The Zong family’s guards are no match for Du Yiqiang. By the time we catch up, the Transformation Fruit will have changed hands.”

“Any ideas?” Ye Xin was anxious. He excelled at identifying a target and then methodically laying out defenses and plans. This time, though, everything had been decided on impulse, and he’d had no time to prepare.

“We’ll… have to cut through ahead,” Shanpao said slowly.

“Are you insane? That’s the Pit of Ten Thousand Serpents up ahead. We don’t have wings—are you planning to fly?” Ye Xin retorted. He might not know the wetlands and ancient forests as well as Shanpao, but he was familiar with the general terrain.

“I wanted to keep something in reserve, but there’s no choice now.” Shanpao looked up, wearing that infuriatingly cheeky grin again. “You came to the right person. Wait here, I’ll go ahead and have a look.”

Without waiting for Ye Xin’s reply, Shanpao dashed toward the mountain ridge.

Once Shanpao’s figure vanished into the forest, a plume of black smoke slowly drifted from Ye Xin’s brow, accompanied by an ancient voice: “Why are you so determined to obtain that Transformation Fruit?”

“So, you don’t know its true use,” Ye Xin replied lazily. “The Transformation Fruit can focus the mind and stabilize the soul. You’ve always said your power is fading, and you hope to pass everything on to me before you dissipate completely. Heh…”

“You’re doing this for me?” the old voice asked again.

“You’ve done so much for me—I have to give something back, or what sort of person would I be?” Ye Xin squinted, as if to hide the moisture at the corners of his eyes. “Besides, the path you’ve set me on is a long one, full of dangers. If I walk it alone, I might not reach the end. But with you accompanying me, I’ll have that much more confidence.”

“Heh… Good child, my years of teaching you were not in vain!” The old voice sighed deeply. “But don’t get your hopes up. I know the Transformation Fruit—one alone won’t be enough to help me…”

“It’s still beneficial,” Ye Xin said softly. “And the longer you’re around, the longer you can guide me, help me become stronger, and then I can seek out more Transformation Fruits.”

The old voice fell silent for a long time before speaking again, “Be careful. Du Yiqiang of Black Tiger Hall is formidable!”

“I know what I’m doing,” Ye Xin answered.

The smoke around Ye Xin’s brow dissipated and slowly withdrew back into his forehead. At that moment, Shanpao’s figure reappeared, leaping out of the woods and waving his arms to beckon Ye Xin over.

Ye Xin urged his horse forward, quickly reaching Shanpao. “Well?” he asked.

“The monster isn’t there. We can cross now,” Shanpao said, “but you’ll have to leave your horse behind. I might not be able to control it otherwise.”

“Is this the only way?” Ye Xin was uneasy. He knew nothing about the Pit of Ten Thousand Serpents. He had never gone near it in his travels, and to enter now would be to entrust his life to Shanpao—a feeling he disliked intensely.

“As you like,” Shanpao shrugged. “We don’t have a choice. If we go around, we’ll never catch up. Don’t blame me, and I won’t be returning your spirit stones.”

Ye Xin hesitated for a long time. Finally, he gritted his teeth. “Let’s go.” With that, he leapt off his horse.

“This way,” Shanpao said.

Shanpao led the way into the forest, with Ye Xin following. They walked nearly a kilometer before reaching a mountain ravine. The cliffs on either side were sheer and smooth, as if split by a giant sword. A small stream flowed through the center, its waters steaming, sending up clouds of mist. Both banks were crowded with countless snakes of all sizes—some as thin as earthworms, weaving between the larger serpents; others as thick as buckets, and when they sensed movement at the ravine’s mouth, some reared up more than ten meters high, poised to strike.

Ye Xin felt his scalp tingle. This wasn’t some phobia—the danger was real. He noticed several of the giant snakes bore fleshy crests on their heads. By the standards of the Great Zhao Kingdom, they had reached the innate martial stage, and as fierce beasts, they possessed innate abilities, the equivalent of kings among soldiers.

In fact, with enough rank, most kings of soldiers could command a battalion, but strength wasn’t everything—connections, family, and background mattered just as much.

Ye Xin had fought his way through mountains of corpses and seas of blood. He possessed the strength of a king among soldiers and knew well how dangerous these beasts could be.

Strictly speaking, fierce beasts at the innate stage were generally stronger than human kings of soldiers. Even if Ye Xin were at his peak, he would have no chance of surviving the Pit of Ten Thousand Serpents.

He unconsciously stopped, while Shanpao continued, though his pace slowed noticeably.

The snake horde, originally at rest, grew restless as Shanpao approached. They reared up, writhing, forming a living forest. Ye Xin had no doubt that at any moment they could be swallowed by the swarm.

Truth be told, Shanpao was anxious too—sweat soaked the short hair at the back of his head. Then, Shanpao opened his mouth and let out a series of soft but sharp cries, wild and animalistic.

Ye Xin sensed a strange wave spreading through the ravine. Shanpao’s cries had an immediate effect: within a radius of over ten meters, the snakes slowly lay down, lounging lazily, no longer moving.

Wherever Shanpao went, the snakes grew quiet. Seeing this, Ye Xin was both astonished and delighted, quickly stepping into the stream.

The ravine stretched five or six kilometers. Ye Xin didn’t dare go too fast, or speak to Shanpao, fearing he’d disturb the now-quiet snakes. He endured the stench that hung thickly in the air, sticking close behind Shanpao.

He had no idea how much time passed before the exit finally came into view. At that moment, Shanpao suddenly sped up, and as they neared the end, he broke into a run, leaped several meters into the air, grabbed a tree branch, and swung forward like a monkey.

The next instant, Shanpao let out a triumphant howl—clearly, he was relieved—and swung forward another ten meters, grasped another branch, and with a few swift moves, vanished deep into the forest ahead.