The air between them crackled with unspoken threats. Luo Zhen, a living shadow of coiled muscle and black scales, held his ground. Opposite him, the swordsman Han Ying circled like a wolf, his refined steel blade an extension of his will. The initial, frantic exchange had been a test, a sizing up. Now, the real fight was about to begin.
A smirk played on Han Ying's lips as he paced. "So, the rumors are true," he taunted, his voice a low drawl. "The martial artists in Huangye Town weren't just spinning tales. They said you, a mere python, had the mind of a man."
Luo Zhen's forked tongue flicked through the air, tasting the scent of his enemy. He remained silent.
"If you were just some dumb animal," Han Ying continued, his smile widening, "this would be over in a heartbeat. But an intelligent beast… You should know when you're outmatched. I can feel the demonic energy rolling off you, but it's thin, new. You've only just broken through to the Demonic Qi Realm, haven't you? Still a fledgling."
He punctuated his words by flourishing his sword, and the white energy clinging to the blade flared with a brilliant, arrogant light. "I, on the other hand, am a mid-stage Qi-Martial warrior."
Han Ying paused, his eyes narrowing, searching for any flicker of fear in the great serpent. He found none.
"Show me something!" he finally snapped, his patience wearing thin. "Give me a sign you understand, or I'll gut you like any other monster!" He crouched, his body tensing for a lethal strike.
"You think you can kill me?" a voice, deep and resonant, echoed in the clearing. "You don't have what it takes."
Luo Zhen spoke, and as he did, he lunged. A jet-black arrow of venom shot from his mouth, hissing through the air with a putrid stench.
Han Ying's composure was shattered. With a surge of adrenaline, he flash-stepped a few feet to the side, the toxic projectile missing him by inches. It slammed into the earth behind him, instantly corroding a smoking, black pit into the ground.
But the swordsman wasn't looking at the crater. His eyes, once small and calculating, were now wide with disbelief. His voice was a choked, trembling whisper. "You… you can talk?!" He stared, a manic grin slowly splitting his face. "You can speak the human tongue!"
His whisper grew into a triumphant shout. His face flushed crimson, a feverish mix of shock and elation. He had stumbled upon the prize of a lifetime.
Luo Zhen immediately knew he'd made a grave mistake.
A beast that could speak was more than a monster; it was a legend. And legends were priceless. The way Han Ying was looking at him now wasn't with the eyes of a hunter, but of a treasure-seeker who had just found a living mountain of gold.
"A spirit beast that talks! By the gods, my fortune is made!" Han Ying was practically dancing, spinning in a tight circle of pure greed. "The value is already incalculable! And it's young, barely a Demonic Qi hatchling! I can capture it, train it… If I can tame this thing… my god…"
The thought consumed him. Blood vessels spiderwebbed across his eyes, his excitement twisting into a raw, obsessive hunger.
"You're mine, little prize!" he bellowed, launching himself forward. He was a blur of motion, but this time, he wasn't just testing the waters. Mid-air, he unleashed a martial art. His sword became a phantom, and in the next instant, four blinding arcs of silver light materialized, screaming towards Luo Zhen's body.
The flash momentarily stole Luo Zhen's vision. Relying on pure instinct, he coiled and braced for impact.
The sound of metal screaming against scales echoed through the forest. The sword-light struck hard, shattering his defenses and drawing blood. But instead of retreating, Luo Zhen surged forward. His massive tail whipped through the air, a blur of black power, and connected with Han Ying's torso with a sickening, meaty thud.
The swordsman was sent flying, crashing to the ground and tumoring several feet before staggering back to his feet.
Luo Zhen glanced down. Where the blades had struck, his scales were pulverized, and blood seeped from shallow gashes. But the thick hide had absorbed the worst of it. The wounds were superficial.
"Cough… impressive," Han Ying wheezed, brushing dirt from his robes as if he'd merely tripped. He was nearly unharmed. "They always say a demonic beast's true power is its body. But you're forgetting one thing." He straightened up, his smirk returning. "You may be strong, but you're facing a human."
"We have something you don't: wisdom. Techniques. I've mastered the Iron Body Technique; my defenses are every bit as tough as your scales. And I have my sword arts." He chuckled, a low, cruel sound. "I have countless skills, a higher cultivation, and the mind of a man. How can you possibly win? Surrender now. You're too weak to even think about escaping."
"Weak?" The word seemed to hang in the air, and for the first time, Luo Zhen smiled.
His realm was lower, yes. But Han Ying had forgotten one critical detail. Luo Zhen was no ordinary python. He was a Teng Snake—a mythical serpent with dominion over two elements.
As the smile faded, his entire presence shifted. A palpable wave of ancient power rolled off him.
Before Han Ying's horrified gaze, reality itself seemed to bend. Crystalline wings, shimmering like spun moonlight, erupted from Luo Zhen's flanks.
With a single, powerful downstroke, Luo Zhen launched himself into the sky, hovering above the stunned swordsman like a living god.
"What… what in the hell are you?!" Han Ying stammered, his mouth agape. One moment, he was fighting a powerful but understandable monster. Next, he was facing a winged serpent straight out of a forgotten nightmare.
"You wanted to hunt me?" Luo Zhen's voice boomed from above. "Then die."
He opened his maw, and from it erupted not venom, but raw elemental fury. Two massive spears of pressurized water materialized, howling as they shot toward the ground.
Han Ying scrambled, his arrogance replaced by pure terror. He dodged the first spear, but the second was too fast. It caught him in the shoulder, piercing straight through his arm and slamming him to the ground, pinning him to the earth like an insect.
A desperate, piercing scream tore from Han Ying's throat.
The spell drained Luo Zhen, leaving him feeling hollow and weak. He had poured all of his demonic qi into that one attack. But it had worked. Han Ying was crippled.
As he prepared to descend and deliver the final blow, a flicker of movement on the edge of his senses caught his attention. He turned, his gaze sweeping eastward. There. Another group.
With a beat of his wings, he shot toward them.
Moments later, he hovered above a dozen martial artists creeping through the undergrowth. He recognized them all. They were from Huangye Town. And leading them was Zhou Hong, from the Zhou clan.
Rage, cold and absolute, flooded Luo Zhen's being. These were the ones. They were the reason Han Ying had come. They had sold him out.
On the ground, the group froze. "Something's not right," Zhou Hong muttered.
Suddenly, one of his men pointed a trembling finger at the sky. "Second Young Master… look!"
They all looked up. Their faces, one by one, contorted in sheer, unadulterated terror. Hovering above them was a monstrous black serpent with impossible, shimmering wings.
"Demon!" one of the men shrieked, breaking ranks and sprinting back the way he came.
The others weren't far behind. "Mr. Han Ying!" Zhou Hong screamed, his voice cracking with panic. "Help us! There's another one, a strange…"
His words were cut short as a black dart of venom fell from the sky, punching through his chest and killing him instantly. Luo Zhen descended like a storm, his massive body a whirlwind of destruction, and in a few bloody seconds, it was over.
The system's voice, cold and dispassionate, chimed in his mind.
You have killed human martial artist Zhou Hong. 3 experience points gained.
You have killed human martial artist Li Kang. 1 experience point gained.
You have killed…
The notifications were a grim tally. Killing humans, he noted with a detached sense of irony, yielded more experience than killing beasts. But because his own power had grown so much, slaughtering these weaklings offered pathetically little reward.
He had dealt with the informants. But the real threat remained. He had yet to receive a notification of Han Ying's death.
The swordsman was still alive.
Luo Zhen's serpentine eyes narrowed to slits. His policy was simple.
When you pull a weed, you get the root.
Back at the battlefield, all that remained was a single, massive spear of solidified water jutting from the scarred earth. And next to it, a severed arm lying in a pool of congealing blood.
Han Ying was gone.
He cut off his own arm to escape, Luo Zhen realized with a sliver of respect. The man is decisive, I'll give him that. The wound on the dismembered limb was clean, clearly sliced by a sword. But it doesn't matter. He was no match for me with two arms. With one, he's nothing.
Though his demonic qi was spent, leaving him unable to use his elemental arts, his venom and brute strength were more than enough to finish a wounded man. He lowered himself to the ground, retracted his wings, and began following the bloody trail.
The trail was clear at first, but as he tracked it, Luo Zhen noticed the bloodstains grew fainter, more sporadic. Han Ying must have used some powerful medicine to staunch the bleeding. By the time the tracks led out of the swamp and onto a dusty main road, they vanished completely.
The road was a mess of dirt, leaves, and debris, but there were no footprints, no drops of blood. Someone had deliberately swept away the evidence.
He's covering his tracks while on the run? Cunning bastard.
Luo Zhen took to the sky again, circling the area in ever-widening rings. For the better part of an hour, he searched a radius of several miles. Nothing. Han Ying had vanished as if he'd been a ghost.
Frustrated, he landed and consulted his internal map—the system's interface. A creature that posed a threat to him should appear as a glowing red dot. He scanned the entire region of Cangshan County displayed in his mind. It was completely clear. Not a single red light.
How is that possible? He couldn't have left the county this fast. He has to be on the map. A thought struck him. Of course. The system only flags a true threat. Han Ying, wounded and broken, is no longer considered my equal.
He had won, but the victory felt hollow. He had let a tiger escape back to its mountain, and he knew this tiger didn't live alone. Han Ying was from the Brotherhood in Cangshan County. He had allies. And now, he knew what Luo Zhen was.
Who knew when he would return, and who he would bring with him?
Luo Zhen hated loose ends. And the source of this entire mess, the root of this future trouble, was Huangye Town. The martial artists there had summoned this plague upon him. He had tried to coexist, to see them as something other than prey. But in their eyes, he was just a monster—a valuable prize to be hunted and claimed.
They had drawn first blood.
He unfurled his wings again, a cold fury settling deep in his core. He would teach them what it meant to hunt a legend.
A quarter of an hour later, the settlement of Huangye Town appeared below him. With his demonic qi just beginning to recover, he gathered what little he had. He opened his mouth, and a torrent of crimson fire rained down upon the town. The flames rolled through the streets and buildings, a roaring inferno that consumed everything.
Without a backward glance, Luo Zhen turned and flew toward the Duankong Mountain Range, leaving only ashes behind.
...
Days turned into a week. In the Misty Swamp, the oppressive, terrifying aura of the great serpent finally faded completely. The monster was gone. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the ecosystem as the beasts and monsters emerged from hiding, reclaiming their territory.
It was during this time of celebration that a patch of murky swamp water began to bubble. Slowly, a human figure dragged itself out of the mud, crawling onto dry land. After a long moment spent listening for any sign of danger, the man collapsed, his body trembling with exhaustion.
It was Han Ying.
He dragged himself to a small, clear pond and began washing away the layers of filth. He was a pathetic sight—missing an arm, his body bloated and pale from days spent submerged in the stagnant water. The wound on his shoulder, which he had fought so hard to close, had reopened and was bleeding sluggishly.
"Thank the heavens for that Heavenly Heart Pill," he rasped to himself, fumbling with his medical supplies. "Without it, I'd be long dead."
He worked on his wound, his senses on high alert. "My gamble paid off," he muttered, a weak but triumphant smile touching his lips. "The serpent never thought I'd double back. The most dangerous place is always the safest."
He paused, his head tilted. He sniffed the air, concentrating. After a long moment, his eyes widened in surprise. "It's gone. His aura is completely gone from this place. He must have left days ago."
The news was a balm to his shattered nerves. He was safe. The hunt was over. He could return to his clan, heal, and within a year, he would be a formidable warrior once more.
After resting, he found his horse grazing peacefully nearby—a small miracle. He mounted the steed and, before leaving, turned to cast one last look at the Misty Swamp. He had arrived arrogant and confident, ready to claim a priceless treasure. He was leaving crippled and humbled.
But as he stared into the murky depths, a fiery glint returned to his eye.
"It wasn't a total loss," he whispered, his voice burning with a new kind of ambition. "I confirmed it. It's young. It's a rare spirit beast. No… It's more than that. It has to have the blood of a Saint Beast in its veins."
He pictured the impossible sight that had cost him his arm.
"After all," he said to the empty air, "I've never seen a great serpent with wings… not in any scroll, not in any legend."