LightReader

Chapter 12 - A Patient Snake

Li Qiong descended the mountain at an unhurried pace.

The streets below bustled with merchants and townsfolk, oblivious to the quiet predator weaving through their midst. At a herb stall, he picked through a bundle of common stalks and roots, tossing a few into his pouch, adding them to the ones already harvested fresh from the wilderness earlier that day.

Next, he stopped before a wine shop.

Behind a glass case sat a single wine gourd, lacquered black with a faint golden seal pressed into the neck.

The shopkeeper's smile stiffened when he saw where Li Qiong's gaze had fallen.

"That one..."

The man hesitated — then nodded, carefully wrapping the rare, expensive vintage before handing it over.

Li Qiong tied the gourd to his belt without another word.

North. His path was set.

The road was long and winding.

With a steamed bun in hand, he walked toward the northern wilderness, chewing slowly. When a passing carriage rattled by, he raised a hand and exchanged a few copper coins for a seat.

By dusk, the carriage left him at the foothills of a rugged mountain range.

The winds here howled colder, wilder. Li Qiong walked on foot from there, silent and deliberate, skirting the edges of beast territory with the ease of someone who'd done so a thousand times. His steps left no sound, weaving easily around the beasts that stalked the undergrowth, his presence hidden like smoke on the wind.

And finally, hidden deep in the ravine, he found it.

A cave mouth, choked by bush, vines and loose rock. It would have escaped anyone else's notice.

But not his.

He slipped inside.

The air was thick with the stench of blood, herbs, and something else — rot. The tunnel narrowed, then opened into a vast interior chamber.

It was no ordinary cave — it was a laboratory of horrors.

Human skins hung like banners. Piles of skulls organized in crude pyramids. Bones and organs floated in jars — adult to baby, animals to spirit beasts. Herbs hung drying from the ceiling. Spirit stones glimmered faintly amid scattered charms and talismans. On a slab lay what could have once been a corpse — or perhaps a zombie, limbs twitching faintly in unnatural stillness.

Li Qiong set his bag down, calmly.

From it, he withdrew an incense burner, placing it at the center of the floor. He popped a pill into his mouth, feeling its warmth spread through his veins, then struck a match and lit the incense.

A thin, greenish smoke curled outward, coiling through the cave until it hung thick in the air, masking his presence completely.

Then he sat.

A chair creaked under him as he crossed one leg over the other, leaned back slightly, and waited.

As if he owned the place.

He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing evenly.

Then, with exquisite patience, he began tapping two fingers rhythmically on his lap.

Tap. Tap. Tap...

Like a clock counting down to someone's doom.

Time passed.

Then — footsteps.

A shadow appeared in the cave entrance.

The figure ducked inside, dragging a teenage girl by the hair. She whimpered weakly, too beaten to resist.

It was a monk — or what passed for one.

A necklace of polished bone fragments rattled against his chest, his bare arms inked with deformed tattoos that seemed to writhe in the torchlight. His weapon, a whip braided from a human spine, swung loosely at his side.

Halfway into the room, he stopped dead.

Someone was here.

He scanned the cave, divine sense probing the shadows — but there was only one presence.

A boy.

Fifteen at most, sitting at his table as though he owned it.

Li Qiong's eyes opened.

He smiled faintly at the intruder.

The boy's gaze was calm. Still.

The monk froze when he saw the boy seated at his table.

Not a flicker of fear — as though the monk dragging corpses and horrors in his wake was nothing more than another piece of furniture to be dealt with at his leisure.

The tapping on Li Qiong's lap stopped.

He straightened slightly in his chair.

"Ah," he murmured softly, his voice almost pleasant. "You're finally here... Master."

Something was wrong.

This was his lair. His slaughterhouse. And yet the boy sat there like he owned the place.

Li Qiong uncrossed his legs. The chair creaked faintly.

He set his elbow on the armrest, resting his cheek lazily on one hand, and looked the monk up and down as if inspecting a stray dog.

The monk stiffened.

For a moment he couldn't tell if the boy was joking — or mad.

But then Li Qiong's fingers, still resting lightly on his knee, tapped once.

And the air in the cave changed.

Something heavy. Suffocating.

The girl whimpered, curling up on the floor. Even the spirit stones scattered across the tables seemed to dim, their faint light retreating.

The monk's tattoos crawled over his skin as his blood surged, his instincts screaming at him.

He snapped his whip taut, the vertebrae clattering like teeth.

"You—" he started to growl.

But Li Qiong cut him off, his voice quiet yet razor-sharp:

"Speak carefully. Or your tongue will be the first thing I take."

The monk's breath hitched.

That smile on the boy's face didn't reach his eyes — and in those black, bottomless eyes, he saw no fear. No mercy. No rush.

Just... inevitability.

The monk tried to summon his power — and faltered.

His veins burned.

His meridians sealed.

His body felt heavy and numb, like lead. Even his fingers refused to close into a fist.

The incense.

His eyes widened in horror as he realized it was the strange aroma filling the cave, sweet and cloying yet faint.

The boy... had been waiting for him. Calculating. Timing his arrival to the minute, letting him waste precious moments breathing the poisoned air, lulling himself into confidence before striking without lifting a hand.

Brilliant. Ruthless.

The monk coughed and spat onto the floor, trying to stand — but his legs refused.

And finally, his pride cracked. He stared up at the boy, his voice rasping as he croaked out:

"Who... who are you...?"

Li Qiong's faint smile didn't waver.

For a long moment he only sat there, his fingers drumming lazily against his knee.

Then, in a low, almost bored tone, he replied:

"Does it matter?"

His eyes, dark as a snake's, glimmered with quiet malice as he added:

"Master."

More Chapters