Chapter 37 — Escape from Death (Part II)

　　Ruoshui stepped forward alone and saw a transparent barrier. She probed it with the flute—pushing the instrument more than halfway through, she sliced downward. The impenetrable ward split open. Water rushed in like an unleashed torrent.

　　Before she could react, the flood slammed into Ruoshui and knocked her to the ground.

　　The astonished snake-girl, seeing the water, immediately transformed into her serpent form. She seized Qiwú with her two forepaws, took Ruoshui on her back, and swam desperately for the surface. After more than ten thousand years, at last she had the chance to see sunlight again. She had not bet wrongly.

　　At the same time, with the ward at the cave mouth gone, the dense demon aura dissipated. Mu Linjun rushed to the Weak Water, and disciples from every sect were dispatched to investigate.

　　The snake-girl carried Qiwú and Ruoshui to shallow water by the shore. Ruoshui used all her strength to drag Qiwú.

　　Mu Linjun arrived first. Seeing the huge python and its aura, and seeing Qiwú unconscious and Ruoshui soaked through, he didn’t hesitate. From far off he flew on his sword and struck at the serpent’s head with a spell-forged blade.

　　The snake-girl sensed the danger and instantly shifted back to human form and dodged. Seeing the long sword aimed at her, she thought, So close—after being a human for a moment and then trapped in darkness for millennia, was she about to die just as she escaped?

　　Mu Linjun landed in front of the snake-girl, retracted his sword, and pointed it at her. When his eyes took in the dripping, thin gauze clinging to her body, he flushed scarlet. He had been raised with propriety; this was the first time he’d seen such a sight and he was at a loss. Shame made his gaze avert.

　　“Such staring will embarrass me,” the snake-girl teased, still on guard.

　　“Who are you, demon?” Mu Linjun stammered, flustered beyond composure.

　　“Mu Linjun, you misunderstand—she’s our savior,” Ruoshui cried.

　　“Our savior?” Mu Linjun looked incredulous. He glanced at the snake-girl and then at Ruoshui; if Ruoshui said so, he accepted it. He crouched and checked Qiwú. “What happened?” he asked.

　　“It’s a long story. First look at Sūmù…” Ruoshui began.

　　Mu Linjun squatted and checked Qiwú, then helped carry him ashore.

　　“Ah, a familiar face,” the snake-girl muttered as Mu Linjun’s figure receded. If she’d known they were not enemies she would not have been so worried.

　　Being a snake-demon, she was usually shunned. This was a golden opportunity to flee—yet she did not. Instead she followed, wanting to know if her makeshift master would live; after all, he had left behind a blood-stained final note.

　　At the water’s edge Mu Linjun examined Qiwú closely. The situation was grim. He sat and cast a detoxifying spell.

　　Ruoshui watched anxiously.

　　More disciples from other sects arrived gradually. They hesitated to approach while Mu Linjun worked, only whispering among themselves.

　　“What happened to Lord Qiwú?”

　　“He appears to have been injured by a powerful demon.”

　　“What sort of demon could wound him so?”

　　“We never knew this place had such a dangerous monster.”

　　“Did no one send people earlier when we heard demons were sighted?”

　　“They did, several times—nothing was found.”

　　“Seems Lord Qiwú is the brave one—he found it first.”

　　Snake-girl, out of earshot, scoffed inwardly: he wasn’t clever; he’d simply blundered into it. The real marvel was that the seemingly frail girl had actually behaved so remarkably.

　　“If he was so capable, he wouldn’t have risked his life,” someone muttered.

　　“How can you say that? Lord Qiwú acted for the greater good,” another defended.

　　After about a cup of tea had passed in time, Mu Linjun stopped the healing spell and his face turned solemn.

　　Everyone fell silent.

　　“How is it?” Ruoshui asked nervously.

　　Mu Linjun looked at her and sighed. The meaning was clear: the poison had penetrated to the bone.

　　The snake-girl watched impassively. Millennia of serpentine and spider venoms—if some magical cure were possible, it would be a pity, but she was surprised Qiwú had held on as long as he had. She felt a pang at how young Ruoshui was to endure loss, and she shook her head, half pitying.

　　Outraged and bewildered, Mu Linjun couldn’t hold back at the snake-girl’s indifferent behavior. His eyes dropped to her alluring face and he demanded, “Wasn’t he bitten by snake venom? Why is there another poison? Why has the Weak Water become so rife with demon aura? What is this vine-demon? What hidden things lie under the water?”

　　The snake-girl made a show of thinking and then spoke slowly. “The water hides a mountain; the mountain hides a cave; the cave hides a few monsters: a vine-demon, an octopus, a spider, and me. There was a ward at the entrance that lets you in but not out. Only the vine-demon could reach out to hunt. It first captured your disciple’s wife—this ‘Ruǒ’er’—then it captured your senior. Your senior thought the octopus would eat his wife, so he fought the octopus. The octopus was killed, but your senior suffered a spider’s bite. Meanwhile the vine tied up Ruǒ’er; weakened and poisoned, your senior had no strength; I bit him to revive him so he could fight the vine—so…”

　　“So the other toxin is spider venom?” Gǔyì asked.

　　“Mm.” The snake-girl nodded and raised a brow at the prompt.

　　Mu Linjun turned away, unwilling to look further. He couldn’t bear the sight. For a moment his restraint slipped into licentiousness.

　　“How do we cure spider venom?” Gǔyì asked.

　　The snake-girl shook her head.

　　“And your own snake venom? How cure that?” Gǔyì demanded.

　　The snake-girl still shook her head.

　　“You don’t even know your own antidote?” Gǔyì pressed.

　　“We’ve been trapped in the cave for ages, cut off from the world. How could we know?” the snake-girl answered.

　　Gǔyì stepped forward. “Snake gall is a remedy for poison. Ten thousand-year gall—perhaps—”

　　The snake-girl stood, stepped back three paces and said, “I don’t know if my gall could cure him. Even if it could, would he allow you to do it? We stood shoulder to shoulder, and I was the one who led them out of the water. If not for me, you wouldn’t even have seen him for the last time. Don’t be so ungrateful.”

　　“First, how do we know you aren’t lying? Second, if we cut you open and take your liver and toss you back into the Weak Water, when my senior wakes he may already be a corpse,” Gǔyì said, each word more menacing. His childlike face hardened with deadly intent.

　　The snake-girl suddenly felt fear. Alone she could handle anyone here, but together they would overpower her. She regretted her choices.

　　Then, deliberately, she loosened her outer robe and slipped a hand inside her bodice. The room tensed: was she about to seduce them?

　　Embarrassed, Gǔyì couldn’t watch; Qingshan Jun had already lost patience; Mu Linjun’s face went beet red.

　　The snake-girl produced a blood-stained robe and, looping around Gǔyì, presented it to Mu Linjun. “This is your senior’s hem—a final letter. Surely you recognize it: a dying man entrusting the last things.”

　　Mu Linjun, half in doubt, took the stained edge and read the blooded words aloud: “Divorce letter—my remaining life is short. After we separate, comb your hair again, make your brows fine, choose a fitting spouse, and each find joy. From now on, we part and find our own happiness.”

　　He handed the cloth to Qingshan Jun, confirming it was indeed his senior’s handwriting. Ruoshui slipped in behind him—she had bled herself and given the blood to Qiwú, and weak as she was she had come out. Seeing the “divorce letter” she froze. A divorce letter meant she was the target. Mu Linjun handed it to her.

　　Ruoshui took the letter in shaking hands. Her chest tightened. Was she to be divorced even at the point of his death? Tears welled; she tried to hold them back but they spilled down her cheeks. Gǔyì saw it and felt the pain as well.