When the man's gaze fell on the massive snake coiled behind him—so large it almost filled the whole temple—he let out a raw, involuntary scream and went rigid, nearly toppling backward. Feng Chengyuan had been expecting something like this; quick as a flash, he steadied the man.
"Don't be afraid," Feng said, his voice even. "The monster's been subdued. You've been under its influence awhile—that's why you've been so out of your mind. Think carefully: how did you offend the serpent?"
The man drew two deep, shuddering breaths. Under Feng's calm, he began to steady, though the memory visibly shook him. He looked at the coiled serpent with a mixture of revulsion and terror, then hesitated before speaking.
"My name is Huang Rui," he said. "I was a foreman for a construction crew. A month ago I took a road-repair contract. Everything was fine—until the night before we reached the stretch by the earth-temple. Something strange happened that night.
"We drank with the boys at the site and staggered home. It must've been two in the morning when I crawled into bed. Half asleep, I saw a pale man—his face very white, and his eyes longer than normal; I'd never seen anyone like him in real life. He bowed to me with a gentle smile and said...
"'Sir, tomorrow your roadwork will reach the temple. To be honest, that's my old lair. The younger ones of my clan—those still unripe in their cultivation—live under the earth there. We were planning to move them out today, but my disciple, stationed far away, ran into trouble. I have to go help him and will be back at the latest the day after tomorrow. Won't you delay the work one day and start the day after? I will remember your kindness and bless you with safety for the rest of your life.'
"I was drunk and stupid and agreed without thinking. He seemed pleased, bowed again, and then he vanished from the dream."
Huang Rui woke with a splitting headache, but the dream had the clarity of truth. He thought about the request for a moment—how many workers were under him? How much would sitting idle cost? Ridiculous to pause work for a dream, right? So they started as planned. Huang and the others joked as they drove the excavator to the temple site and, without a second thought, dug in.
The bucket's sharp teeth bit into the earth—one scoop, then another—then suddenly the bucket froze, as if jammed on something. A thin, keening sound seeped up from the ground. Panic swept Huang Rui; he wrestled with the controls. When the bucket finally rose, it carried not earth but a writhing mass: dozens of little snakes, their bodies twisted and severed.
A stench of iron and rot filled the pit so thick it made people sick. Huang leaned over and saw hundreds more snakes tangled together beneath the soil, all crushed by that single scoop, their fate gruesome. The workers, who had never seen such a thing, fell silent. Snakes were known to be spirit-steeped creatures—slain like this, surely calamity would follow. They stopped work and scattered. Huang washed his hands a hundred times that night, but the smell would not come off.
His wife, Wang Meng, seeing him hollow-eyed and restless, set a comforting meal. When Huang sat down, she served a braised ribbonfish. For reasons he couldn't explain, the sight made his face contort; he sprinted to the latrine and vomited.
That night he slept fitfully and dreamt again of the pale man, but the smile was gone. The man's face was sorrowful and stern, accusing him of breaking his word. Huang woke with a jolt and saw a man standing by the bedside—ashen-faced, vertical pupils full of hatred. In an instant the figure became a colossal serpent that snatched Wang Meng and disappeared.
After that, Huang deteriorated. Misfortune clung to him. He became muddled and lost, spending his nights at the ruined temple, prostrating himself a hundred times to atone.
When the memory ended, Huang Rui's face had gone deathly white.
The snake stared at him with burned-in hatred. "I've cultivated for years and never harmed people. I did good where I could. But who would have expected such a treacherous human? That night I hurried back in joy and found my lair destroyed—hundreds of descendants dead, their corpses abandoned. Huang Rui, you are shameless. Humanity is shameless!"
Qian Lin opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say. He had assumed the serpent was a monstrous criminal—and in one sense it was—but now he saw the other side: the snake had been a creature wronged.
Yu Nian looked at the serpent. "Huang Rui killed your young," she said. "He got the punishment people deserve. But why set up a temple and trick others into worshipping you under the pretense that you answer all prayers?"
The serpent's tongue flicked. "Heaven punish me? If heaven were just, I wouldn't have to endure this grief. And I didn't trick them. It was a transaction. There's an old saying: you don't get a reward for nothing. Some come for wealth, some for career favor—I can grant those things. In return, they leave their life-force in the temple. A little loss of qi won't kill them. But if people are greedy and keep taking, that's on them. Their deaths are their own doing, not mine."
Feng Chengyuan watched the serpent's predatory gleam and felt the logic ring oddly familiar—almost like a bargain struck in commerce. The spirit had learned human greed well.
Yu Nian stepped forward and peeled the talisman from the serpent's brow. "If you like making deals so much, let's make one," she offered. "I'll give your dead their due rites and free them from grudges, so they won't suffer on. In exchange, you return all the life-force you've taken to its owners. What do you say?"
The serpent blinked. Confusion flickered over its snake face for a moment, then its dark green slit- pupils narrowed and it snarled, "Why should I trust you? You are a Daoist and I am a demon. We are enemies by nature."
Yu Nian considered this. "True," she said. "Then never mind."
The serpent: ...?
When Yu Nian actually turned away, the snake felt a prick of wounded pride. The demon world ran on strength and respect, and although it had been bested by Yu Nian moments before, it hated admitting submission. Pride wrestled with sense until the serpent slithered forward and spoke in a more conciliatory tone: "Unless... you take me as your household spirit. If I'm your family guardian, then there is absolute trust between master and household spirit. No deception then."
Yu Nian blinked. A fox demon had recently tried to become her follower, and now a snake wanted the same—did she attract spirit-suckers? The serpent's eyes shone with expectation. She paused, then asked plainly, "Do you cost a lot to keep?"
She saw a brief flicker of confusion cross the serpent's face and rephrased: "I mean, are you expensive to feed or hard to maintain?"
The snake was baffled. "I'm a hundred-year great demon. My treasury is deep... why would you ask that?"
When Yu Nian's eyes lit up, she smiled and said, "Perfect. You're my household spirit, then."
The serpent stared for a beat and then understood what had been worrying her. It barked a laugh of equal parts amusement and relief—how many had begged it to be their guardian only to be dismissed? Finally someone willing to take it on without batting an eye about upkeep.
With a grand, deliberate motion it uncoiled, reached behind a stone statue and produced a huge chest. It opened it: inside lay glittering jewels and flashing treasures. The snake nudged Yu Nian's pants leg with its head. "All of this is yours. As long as you don't abandon me, I will be bound to you in life and death—my loyalty unstinting."
Yu Nian: ...
Beside her, Feng Chengyuan scowled and felt a flare of irritation at the spirit's grandiloquent line. He couldn't help blurt out, "You don't use that line like that."
The snake's expression faltered a little, as if embarrassed to be corrected mid-oath, but it stayed proud—and now, bound by contract, it was hers.