Chapter Eighty-One: So Ugly It Breaks the Heart

Xiao Nan retreated swiftly. Borrowing the fierce momentum of Han Zhang’s sword, he leapt back more than ten meters in just a few steps, landing without pause… His toes touched the ground lightly, as if brushed by a spring breeze, carrying him far from the serpent’s reach.

To have fought so desperately against Han Zhang, a veteran martial artist at the peak of the first rank, without yielding a single step and emerging victorious—Xiao Nan had paid dearly for it. A force of fifteen hundred pounds, striking eighteen times in succession, would shatter even iron. He was short by five or six hundred pounds compared to his opponent; skill alone could not bridge such a gap.

Now he felt a searing pain in his organs, his bones tingling and weak, and he spat two mouthfuls of blood, looking utterly wretched. Yet compared to his adversary, he was far better off.

He withdrew to a distant spot, never stopping his pace, slipping into the low woods and holding his breath, hiding beneath a rocky slope. To his surprise, this time, Zhang Shu—usually so wooden-headed—had learned to be clever. Without waiting for Xiao Nan’s warning, he had already crouched behind a thick tree, hiding himself securely with his back hunched and his face pressed tightly to his hands.

But what was Zhang Shu doing, covering his mouth and nose so firmly? The serpent didn’t hunt by scent; did he think he was facing a zombie?

A muffled boom resounded, dust billowing, followed by Han Zhang’s anguished, despairing howl from afar.

Xiao Nan peered out to see fragments of alloy scattered everywhere, shooting in all directions. Han Zhang held only a broken knife handle. His whole body had been struck and sent flying by the silver-white serpent. In midair, a series of cracks sounded—his bones shattered completely.

A flash of white—the serpent’s tail, as swift and fluid as a bolt of silk, whipped back out of sight, so quick even Xiao Nan could barely follow.

His expression hardened as he saw Han Zhang, still airborne, ensnared by a blood-red cord—not a rope, but the serpent’s tongue. With a single sweep, it bound Han Zhang’s large frame… The serpent’s jaws opened wide, swallowing him whole.

The serpent’s neck convulsed, occasionally bulging with small lumps as its meal traveled downward. After a short while, only the faint outline of a human shape remained, motionless in its throat and belly.

Three human figures lined up inside, making the serpent appear bloated.

Whether it was sated or simply hadn’t detected Xiao Nan and Zhang Shu hiding in the distance, the silver-white serpent hissed softly, circled its surroundings, then turned and slithered away in the direction it had come.

A ripple of white passed through the main path and into the grass, clearly heading back to Fragrant Grass Lake.

…

“Is it gone?”

After a long moment, both men exhaled deeply.

Zhang Shu, still shaken, whispered his question. His forehead was drenched in sweat; clearly he’d been terrified. The silver serpent wasn’t especially massive, but snakes were unlike other beasts—their threat multiplied with every inch of size. At twenty meters long and as thick as a barrel, its mouth gaped like a doorway. Xiao Nan suspected it could swallow an ox whole.

The most horrifying thing was not how much it could eat, but its raw strength. Xiao Nan had seen Han Zhang, in his desperate struggle, slash repeatedly at the serpent’s head. Yet he could not even cut through its scales, only leaving shallow marks.

When Han Zhang tried to flee again, the serpent’s tail struck with a single lash, shattering every bone in his body.

“This is the crushing power of sheer force… Han Zhang’s fifteen hundred pounds of strength was nothing to the serpent, like a child’s effort. At least a threefold difference in power is needed for such a result.”

Xiao Nan calculated silently, astonished. The silver-white serpent’s casual attacks reached four to five thousand pounds of force.

“That’s a fourth-rank beast—male at the peak of the fourth rank, female at mid-fourth, listed in the association’s records.”

Zhang Shu, still trembling, interjected.

After surviving such mortal peril, even his usually thick nerves were rattled, leaving him drenched in cold sweat.

First-rank martial artists temper skin and muscle; second-rank strengthens the tendons; third-rank refines the bones; fourth-rank forges the internal organs. The first three ranks build the body as a fortress from the outside—meaning with special skill, one might still overcome a higher rank or exploit weaknesses.

But from the fourth rank onward, the body’s hardware is nearly flawless, inside and out…

Just as with the serpent just now—even if Xiao Nan had every trick in the book, he could not harm or kill it. Much less when its strength reached four or five thousand pounds.

As a beast, its physique was formidable—likely underestimated still. It might reach six thousand pounds, six times Xiao Nan’s strength.

One touch would mean death.

If he faced the serpent, his fate would be no better than Han Zhang’s.

So Zhang Shu’s terror was understandable. Xiao Nan sympathized.

…

After his panic, Zhang Shu hurriedly rummaged through his rabbit-skin bundle, pulling out a small bottle and handing it over.

“Xiao Nan, quickly, don’t delay…

You just coughed up blood—your organs must be injured. Don’t take it lightly. It’s only a homemade herbal pill from the village, not as potent as the alchemists’ wares, but it should help somewhat.”

Xiao Nan knew the pill was far more effective than Zhang Shu claimed. Earlier, he’d seen how precious Zhang Shu considered it—agonizing over taking even one black, sticky pellet.

Yet after only half an hour, Zhang Shu’s injuries had nearly healed.

“Alright, I’ll meditate now.”

Xiao Nan had wanted to refuse, but seeing the sincerity in Zhang Shu’s eyes, he couldn’t reject the kindness. He also didn’t want to reveal his body’s ability to heal itself.

He smiled, accepted the bottle, and poured out a jet-black pill. He sniffed it carefully—no sense of alarm—then swallowed it in one gulp.

Sometimes, accepting goodwill gracefully is a subtle art, easing tension and building bonds.

Those who stand too aloof often find themselves alone.

On this journey, Zhang Shu owed Xiao Nan a great debt: he’d been saved from death several times. How could he not feel uneasy, or guilty? Impossible.

His offer of medicine surely came from remorse.

…

Xiao Nan sat where he was and closed his eyes to meditate.

As the medicine took effect, a cool sensation spread through his chest and abdomen. His limbs and organs soon felt much more comfortable.

With his spirit stirring his blood, it surged like tides.

Within a few breaths, his wounds were mostly healed.

This was not solely the pill’s doing, but the unique changes brought by his strengthened physique. Unless his body structure was destroyed outright, he would naturally recover—his beastman heritage endowed him with a remarkable talent.

The bronze mirror’s analytic powers had optimized his body, extracting the essence and discarding the dross.

His constitution and bones had leapt forward.

With every passing day, he felt more acutely the benefits of his newfound strength…

Compared to his former, sickly self, it was a world apart.

“Uncle Xiao, look—what’s this?”

With the serpent gone, Zhang Shu had reverted to his hunter’s ways, seizing every opportunity to scavenge.

He held something up in both hands, grinning so wide he nearly drooled, ugly enough to make one wince.