Chapter Two: The Unexpected

The giant python rushed into the cave and, spotting Dao Sansheng climbing, swung its tail furiously against the wall. Thud, thud, thud—the repeated blows made the tunnel walls tremble, sending down a rain of wood chips and dust, filling the already cramped tree hollow with a haze.

Dao Sansheng struggled to climb; a slip nearly sent him tumbling, but he managed to grasp a vine just in time. Looking up, he saw he was close to the top, where a small hole offered an escape.

Suddenly, the python went mad, scrambling upward with wild urgency, only to slip and fall, then flick its tongue toward the suspended Dao Sansheng.

A black mist suddenly billowed through the cave; a jet of venom hissed forth, barely missing Dao Sansheng, splattering against the wooden wall. The venom trickled down, its corrosive effect making the wood sizzle and leaving a black mark.

Seeing the python’s panic, Dao Sansheng guessed it sensed some threat; otherwise, it would not have expelled so much venom it had cultivated for so long. Following the python’s gaze, he spotted a dark hole opposite the entrance, where six or seven eggs lay neatly arranged. Clearly, those were what the python was desperate to protect.

An idea sparked in Dao Sansheng’s mind. The manor had always taught him cultivation techniques and methods to strengthen his body; now they would prove useful. He knew he could not defeat this spirit beast, but he could escape.

He pushed off with both feet, using the rebound to leap straight into the shadowy hole. The python below grew even more frantic, lifting its head and spraying venom toward the tree hollow.

Dao Sansheng tossed one of the snake eggs to block the venom. The python hurriedly opened its mouth to catch the egg, growing even more anxious, abandoning any attempt to attack Dao Sansheng. Its body swayed left and right, up and down, expending all its strength to catch the egg. The egg slid along its body, and with lightning speed, the python snatched it in its jaws.

But this effort exhausted the python; after two bouts of venom spraying and catching the egg, it lay sprawled on the ground, drained.

Dao Sansheng, observing the weary python, realized his guess was correct; even a beast would not harm its offspring. His trick had worked.

He picked up another snake egg, tossing it between his hands, performing a few difficult maneuvers. The python’s head followed the egg, swaying from side to side.

“Little bug, your brother’s here. Come up if you dare!” he jeered, grinning mischievously, utterly unlike someone who had just survived a deadly pursuit. “If you come up, I’ll throw all these eggs down!” he threatened, fondling the rest of the snake eggs in the nest.

Suddenly, he noticed something odd: one egg was much smaller than the others. The python below seemed to understand, watching Dao Sansheng’s hands intently, not daring to move.

Dao Sansheng, seeing the python’s passivity, turned back and picked up the smaller egg, examining it closely. It was different: pure white with not a hint of blemish, unlike the others which were flecked with black.

What was this?

A white feather was stuck to Dao Sansheng’s hand, precisely where he had picked up the small white egg.

No wonder this egg was different—it was a bird’s egg. He remembered tales told by elders: some spirit beasts would lay their eggs in other beasts’ nests, letting them hatch their offspring. The bird’s egg would hatch earlier than the others, then the fledgling would devour the other eggs in the nest to accelerate its growth and advance.

Dao Sansheng had once dismissed these stories as mere folklore, but now he believed. Clearly, this avian spirit egg was superior; once it hatched, it would devour the python’s eggs, and the foolish snake was still incubating it.

The python, seeing Dao Sansheng remain still, cautiously circled its eggs, afraid he might snatch them.

Suddenly, the shrill neigh of a horse echoed from outside, startling both man and serpent.

“Oh no, my wild horse!” Dao Sansheng cursed inwardly, but with the python unmoving, he dared not leave.

The python, having finally caught a spirit beast of its own rank, was weakened from giving birth and on the verge of advancing, lacking spiritual energy. The heavens had granted it a rare chance; the other spirit beasts nearby were too formidable, but this one was docile and offered no resistance when captured. It had dragged it back, but now another opportunist had arrived.

Outside, a foxcat pinned the wild horse with its claws, biting its neck. The horse struggled, but soon lay still, dead. The foxcat clawed open its skull, extracting a crystal the size of a goji berry and swallowed it.

That sparkling object was a spirit pellet, naturally formed within spirit beasts.

The foxcat let out a triumphant cry and charged into the cave. In an instant, it burst in.

The python lashed out with its tail, but the foxcat leaped aside, then twisted around and tangled with it.

The foxcat pushed a snake egg toward the python. The python froze in midair, and the foxcat slapped the egg, shattering it across the python’s face. Its head was drenched in golden yolk, the shell perched atop, the egg liquid streaming down its body.

The foxcat, not giving the python a chance to react, pounced at the egg’s location. With a tear and a bite, scales broke and blood welled from its body, and the python’s spirit pellet was extracted.

The foxcat swallowed it and turned to leave.

Up in the tree hollow, Dao Sansheng was so terrified he barely dared to breathe, holding his breath as his heartbeat raced.

Thump, thump, thump—the sound echoed in his ears.

Only as the foxcat turned did Dao Sansheng’s heart finally calm; he exhaled, feeling a rush of relief.

Looking at the bird egg in his hand, he saw it was soaked, his entire palm drenched with sweat. Never in his past life had he witnessed such a scene; for the first time, he felt nervous, but now a sudden happiness overtook him.

After two hours, Dao Sansheng judged the foxcat had gone far. He cautiously poked his head out, looked down at the python, which stared back with a fierce gaze, clearly displeased.

Dao Sansheng burst out laughing. He had struck it rich; these spirit beast eggs were all his. He took off his outer robe and packed the remaining eggs inside.

It is said that climbing up a mountain is easier than descending; Dao Sansheng now faced this very dilemma, sitting at the entrance, uncertain what to do. Eventually, he decided to risk it.

He threw his bundle of snake and bird eggs down, aiming at the dead python’s body. As soon as he let go, he shut his eyes and pressed his palms together—“Heavens bless me, heavens bless me…”

After a moment, he opened his eyes. Luckily, it hadn’t gone like the time he threw his shoes to knock down walnuts—both pairs of new shoes landed in the tree, yielding only a few walnuts, and he was chased by the orchard owner and mocked by classmates for a whole semester. Everyone said he traded hundreds of dollars’ worth of shoes for a few walnuts, and hurt his feet in the process.

The bundle landed perfectly on the python’s body. Dao Sansheng mustered his courage and jumped down.

Ouch!

He twisted his ankle; fortunately, his regular training in jumping and basic breathing techniques had strengthened his body. He didn’t know his rank, but his physique was several times that of an ordinary person.

Still, he landed badly, stepping on the python’s head, whose bones were so hard that he sprained his foot.

He steadied himself against the tree wall and kicked at the python’s head. “Little bug, you dare mess with me? Just now you seemed so fierce; now I’ll roast you and eat you!”

Then he remembered: spirit beasts’ skins and bones could be sold for money. The foxcat didn’t want them, but he certainly did.

Dao Sansheng drew his knife and carefully skinned the python, fearing he might damage its value.

It took him three hours to finish; as the saying goes, slow work yields fine results. He ended up with a perfectly intact spirit python skin.

Night was falling; clearly, there was no way he would make it back today.