Chapter 22: The Harvest
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
Under the broad dusk sky, Qin Ming quietly climbed up a higher slope, moving closer to where he’d hidden his weapons and armor. He ducked behind a colossal old tree, so thick that it would take several people holding hands to circle it. From this vantage point, he could see the group approaching below—a band of eleven figures hurrying toward the Blood Bamboo Forest.
They moved swiftly, reaching the valley’s edge with impressive precision. Their armor caught the last light of the fading day, and each of them gripped a long, gleaming sword. As they reached the entrance, they stood in perfect formation, shoulders squared, blades raised. Their silent cooperation was almost eerie.
Qin Ming frowned behind the tree trunk. “Seriously? The Mountain Patrol?” he whispered to himself in a low, teenage mutter, his voice carrying a note of disbelief. He remembered that uniform armor—Feng Yi An and Shao Cheng Feng had worn something like it. But these new arrivals carried swords instead of heavy iron spears. Probably a smart move, Qin Ming guessed, since they’d need quick, slicing weapons if they were about to deal with snakes.
Night fell gently, and the patrol set their packs down at the dim entrance to the valley. Bending over, they began pulling out jars and bottles, mixing various powders and liquids together. Their careful, practiced movements told Qin Ming these people were pros. He nodded to himself, watching with a growing sense of respect. Maybe they really could handle those blood snakes.
Before long, another figure—someone who’d clearly been scouting—raced out of the trees. He stopped, panting, before the group. “Boss, Fu En Tao and Feng Yi An aren’t at their spot,” he said, sounding baffled. “It’s super weird. All those wooden huts in the mountains—they’re just gone, like they vanished.”
The Mountain Patrol members exchanged puzzled looks. One of them scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Weren’t those guys planning to hit the Blood Bamboo Forest, same as us? Where’d they run off to? Don’t tell me the monsters up here got ’em first.”
Another shook his head. “Lately, a bunch of nobles from Red Glow City and other big groups have shown up. Some already went into the mountain. Maybe Fu En Tao picked a fight with the wrong people and ended up in trouble.”
Their leader, Liu Huai Shan, was a massive, broad-shouldered man who looked like he could wrestle a bear. He raised one hand and the chatter stopped at once. “Doesn’t matter,” he said firmly, voice calm but authoritative. “We were worried about sneaking into their territory and getting caught. Now they’re gone, so that’s one problem off our backs.”
A patrol member grinned, relieved. “Looks like the heavens are doing us a favor, huh?”
Liu Huai Shan nodded, his face serious. “Just remember,” he warned them all in a low voice, “if this goes wrong, we run. Understand? Don’t be heroes. We’re here for your Awakening, but I won’t have anyone throwing their life away.”
The group nodded, their resolve clear. They stepped quietly into the valley, moving into position while Liu Huai Shan advanced alone. He was Awakened twice over, stronger than the rest. With careful steps, he carried the jars toward the Fire Spring—a place rumored to be the source of these fearsome blood snakes. Working quickly, he tossed some mixtures that let off thick yellow smoke. Then came powdery substances and odd fluids, all cast into the dim red glow of the spring. The moment he finished, he retreated at once, not daring to linger.
Back near the valley entrance, the patrol waited, tense and silent. Although they were seasoned fighters, their shoulders were stiff, and their hands gripped their swords tightly.
All at once, a swirl of smoke drifted over the Fire Spring, and something inside began to stir. First, a dozen smaller snakes, each a few feet long, slithered out, their bodies twisting and coiling over the icy ground. They moved like scouts, flicking their tongues as if testing the air. Then came two enormous serpents, each easily four meters long, their crimson scales glowing faintly in the dim light. When their armored bodies scraped together, it sounded like blades striking—metal against metal, sending a shiver through anyone who heard it.
These monstrous snakes sped forward so fast they seemed to hover above the snow. Their hissing cut through the night air, furious and loud, and in moments they were hurtling toward the valley’s mouth like living crimson spears.
“Wait—two giant snakes? For real?” one of the patrol members gasped, his voice cracking with sudden panic. They’d planned for one, maybe two smaller ones, not this.
“Run!” Liu Huai Shan roared. “The smoke’s not working. Get out of here now!” He didn’t need to say it twice. His men, well-trained though they were, knew better than to face these monsters head-on. They turned and fled, boots pounding on the frozen ground.
Liu Huai Shan himself moved fast, even at the rear of the group. He surged past several patrol members with long, powerful strides. But one snake was already too close. It paused on a large boulder, then launched itself with a thunderous snap that shook the trees.
CRACK!
The last man in line took a direct hit from the serpent’s head. The blow tore through two layers of armor, but a thick iron plate at his back spared him from being instantly skewered. Still, he was knocked flat into the snow. The blood snake coiled around him before he could scream. Its scales rasped with a deadly metallic sound as it tightened, armor cracking, bones snapping. When its fangs sank into his face, his skin and flesh sizzled away. It happened too fast—he was dead in heartbeats.
While one snake feasted, the other rushed into the forest after another patrol member. The man’s screams echoed briefly, then vanished.
Liu Huai Shan reappeared at the edge of a clearing, his heavy sword held high, just in time to see a fourth comrade crushed by the giant serpent. Swinging his blade down with all his might, Liu Huai Shan managed to slice through the creature’s crimson scales, drawing bright red blood. It wasn’t a deep wound, but it was enough to force the beast to release its victim.
The snake recoiled and hissed, furious and wounded. Just then, the second serpent noticed them and raced closer, a red blur darting through the trees.
Liu Huai Shan’s shoulders slumped slightly. He was outnumbered and outmatched. He’d had a chance, maybe, but now both snakes were after him. Without another word, he dashed into the deeper forest, his breath steaming in the cold air. He had no choice but to abandon the fight. The blood snakes chased him briefly, but the wounded one soon slowed, too hurt to continue, and eventually turned back toward the valley, its hiss echoing with frustration.
Back on the slope, Qin Ming was waiting. He’d donned four layers of armor and covered his face with a black cloth, leaving only his eyes exposed. Next to him in the snow lay several iron spears and a long blade. A heavy, black-handled war hammer hung across his back. He’d heard the chaos in the valley, and now he caught the sound of the wounded snake’s return.
Qin Ming grabbed one of the spears, his breath frosting the air. As soon as the injured blood snake slithered near, he hurled the spear with all his strength.
The spear struck true, shattering more of the snake’s crimson scales. Snarling with pain, the serpent faced a rain of more spears from Qin Ming, each landing harder than the last. These fresh wounds looked even worse than the cuts Liu Huai Shan had managed.
Enraged, the blood snake curled around a tree, then launched itself at Qin Ming like a scarlet lightning bolt. But Qin Ming was ready. Instead of drawing his sword, he swung the black metal hammer off his back and heaved it upward just as the snake struck.
CLANG!
The collision rang out as if two giant swords had slammed together. Sparks flew, and the snake crashed into the snow, its long body twisting in sudden agony.
Qin Ming’s heart pounded. He had an opening now. He pulled his sword from where it stood in the snow and dashed toward the fallen serpent. With forceful, repeated blows, he cracked through the scales. Finally, in a harsh, decisive strike, he severed the snake’s head.
Panting, Qin Ming lowered his sword. He stared at the lifeless creature. “Wow,” he murmured, his teenage voice breathless with disbelief. “This… this has got to be my key to Awakening.”
But the moment of triumph didn’t last. A threatening hiss sounded behind him. Several more blood snakes, smaller but still deadly—some as short as three feet and others as long as seven—came slithering his way. Some even leapt through the air like arrows.
Qin Ming swung his blade again and again, cutting down the newcomers with grim determination. Soon, their bodies lay scattered in the snow. Then, carefully, he took out a sturdy beast-hide bag and began collecting his hard-won prizes.
A sudden, sharp instinct told him to move, and he jerked aside just in time. An iron arrow sliced through the spot he’d been standing, sinking deep into a drift. Two more arrows hissed by, scraping sparks off his armor and biting into the trunks of nearby trees.
Qin Ming paused, gripping his blade, and turned to gaze at the distant figures who had fired at him. They were not snakes but humans, and he could see their outlines in the shadows of the forest.
He gave a grim smile beneath his black cloth mask. “Really? Here I am hunting snakes, and you lot think you can hunt me?”