Volume One: The Soul-Guiding Gourd, The Soul-Kindling Lamp Chapter 59: The White-Scaled Serpent

A sharp crack echoed. A column of violet lightning, thick as a barrel, struck the emerald surface of the pond, sending waves roaring and raising a wall of water over ten meters high.

Suddenly, a tremendous hissing resounded. A white serpent's head, as large as a locomotive engine, burst from the depths, its blood-red tongue flickering menacingly.

Gu Mo, terrified by the horrifying spectacle, felt his whole body tense and collapsed onto the soft mud, as if his soul might flee his body at any moment.

"Damn! Is this another tribulation? But this python is enormous! Could it be a celestial being as well?"

The thought struck him with incredulity. Such an experience was far beyond ordinary comprehension—something not everyone could simply copy and paste into their life.

According to what the celestial 'Gold Noble' had said: the celestial 'Ash Guangji' was killed by 'Liu Kunsheng.' Then, 'Gold Noble' asked him to give his dear friend a proper burial. But why choose the Emerald Pond?

After pondering, Gu Mo was suddenly enlightened, and a bold speculation emerged.

"Damn, I've been used again! 'Gold Noble' first exploited my 'Extreme Yin Fate' to ward off tribulation. Then had me bury his friend. And let my fate influence his mortal enemy 'Liu Kunsheng.' It's truly killing three birds with one stone!"

Yet, as he thought further, something felt off.

"If my fate can ward off tribulation, why did 'Gold Noble' send me to the pond? If his enemy 'Liu Kunsheng' succeeds in his tribulation, wouldn't that be dangerous for me?"

His mind drifted to the serpent blood he had drunk.

"That stuff is definitely unusual. Drinking it must have given me a serpent's scent. Xiao Yulou instructed me to pour serpent blood onto the coffin to mask 'Ash Guangji's' aura. But I wouldn't dare provoke 'Liu Kunsheng' even with eight lives!"

Thunder rumbled overhead. Within the swirling darkness, flashes of lightning illuminated the scene.

In brief moments of light, the giant python in the pond continued to face the sky, tongue flickering crimson, unwilling to bow or admit defeat.

Gu Mo swallowed hard, crouching beneath a tree and covering his mouth and nose, fearful of making the slightest sound. In his eyes, he was hardly enough to fill the python's teeth.

Yet, recalling that he had just passed through the pond, surely leaving traces of humanity, he shuddered at the thought of being discovered—not even worthy as a morsel.

Fear gripped his heart, yet curiosity drove him onward, and he crept forward, treading carefully beneath the thunder.

(A certain anonymous fan, ‘Yu Kongcheng,’ roared: “Damn, curiosity killed the cat!”)

Drawing closer, Gu Mo raised his eyes for a better look.

The white-scaled python undergoing tribulation had a head gleaming pure white, the smallest scales the size of wagon wheels, its emerald eyes shining like gems, deep and clear.

Most uncanny were the two spirit horns atop its massive head, each the size of a short sword.

Its blood-red tongue, as thick as a tree branch, flicked out, exuding an aura of supernatural power that eclipsed all others.

Indeed, among all celestial creatures, serpent immortals cultivated the fastest, their spiritual prowess unmatched.

But fate had brought calamity; the celestial 'Liu Kunsheng's' level of cultivation had provoked heaven's thunder penalty.

Lightning crackled, and several columns of violet thunder crashed down upon the serpent’s head, illuminating the midnight sky as bright as day.

The pond surged, raising a circular wall of water over ten meters high.

Within this wall, the white figure darted left and right. When the water crashed back down, the python remained unscathed, having evaded every bolt.

Gu Mo, hiding in the shadows, silently cheered. (He truly enjoyed watching the chaos.)

Thunder boomed, clouds churning, the tribulation seeming only to intensify.

The white-scaled python turned its gem-like eyes and shifted its massive head.

Its enormous body surfaced, sending waves rolling across the pond. Its tail, thick as a well’s mouth, extended quietly toward the shore.

As a purple bolt descended, the python unleashed its strength, sending a tree—large enough for three men to embrace—flying into the lightning.

With a sharp crack, the tree was instantly charred black, and the wind scattered its ashes.

Gu Mo stared, dumbfounded: "Damn! Is that even possible?"

Thunder roared, winds howled, and the storm continued unabated.

---

Gu Mo grew curious: Why had so many stones appeared in the forest?

But it hardly mattered now. Witnessing the python’s tribulation was worth the price of admission.

He furrowed his brow, watching intently, unwilling to miss a single detail.

He saw the white-scaled python coiled upon the waves, its maw gaping, rows of teeth sharp as daggers.

Suddenly, a brilliant golden light surged from its belly, rising to the mouth.

The golden glow dispelled much of the darkness, just as nine purple bolts crashed around the python.

As the thunder paused, a dazzling golden pill appeared at the serpent’s lips.

Gu Mo was utterly astonished.

"Dear heavens—a golden pill! Who knows how long this python has cultivated, how much essence it has absorbed from heaven and earth. For the pill to play such a role during tribulation!"

His eyes flashed with greed.

"If I could seize that pill, wouldn't I command wind and rain as I pleased?"

Yet, remembering his own feeble strength, he bitterly abandoned the thought.

Still, having glimpsed such a treasure, he couldn't bear to leave. Even if he could not claim the pill, witnessing the tribulation was itself a rare enlightenment.

Just then, the gluttonous spirit in his arms began trembling, snapping Gu Mo’s attention back.

Seeing the frightened creature, Gu Mo’s heart softened, and he stroked it gently.

"Hairball, if you're scared, crawl into my pocket."

No sooner had he spoken than he pried open the spirit's maw and shoved his phone, keys, and black bundle inside—his entire worldly possessions.

In a flash, the trembling spirit scurried into his pocket.

...

Suddenly, thunder raged overhead.

Purple lightning flickered within the clouds.

Gu Mo, both frightened and excited, watched closely.

The python’s emerald eyes flickered, its tail trembling nervously—it clearly feared the raging clouds.

But tribulation must be endured; there was no turning back. Whatever the outcome, the python could only face it head-on.

A flash of white light, a deafening roar. The python struck the pond with its tail, sending jets of water shooting into the clouds.

Next, countless trees flew into the clouds like arrows. The python roared into the sky, mouth agape.

Yet the water jets could not harm the storm clouds.

Suddenly, nine purple bolts converged upon the python, intent on obliterating it.

Gu Mo, hiding, curled up in distress, covering his ears, but the thunder still shook his soul.

Looking up, the pond shone bright as day, the nine bolts raining down upon the python.

A sharp crack—the thunder resounded to the heavens.

Gu Mo felt his scalp tingle as if his soul were soaring above.

The scene before him blurred.

A streak of violet lightning crashed down upon the python.

At last, Gu Mo, unable to withstand the thunder’s terror, collapsed in the forest.

The white-scaled python, battered by heaven’s thunder, sank beneath the surface.

Suddenly, calm and silence returned, as though nothing had happened.

The charred trees around the pond were slowly scattered by the wind.

Amid drifting ashes, the golden pill and several mysterious objects fell quickly, drawn down by the fading storm.

Just as these treasures were about to touch the clear water, two dark shadows flashed past.

Clang!

A metallic clash, and the pill vanished instantly.

The scene shifted: at the pond’s east and west stood two masked figures in black.

---

On the left, one held the golden pill; on the right, the other grasped a bone spike and a white serpent egg. Clearly, both had come seeking the python’s treasures.

Unexpectedly, the mantis stalks the cicada, but the oriole waits behind—if the python in the netherworld knew, it would surely weep in despair.

A breeze rustled through the woods, sending a leaf drifting to the pond’s center. As it touched the water, the two masked figures moved swiftly.

In a flash, the clang of metal rang out; countless sparks-flying throwing weapons plunged beneath the surface.

Black tendrils rose from the water—poisoned weapons, without doubt.

The world of martial arts is perilous; caution is essential.

Both masked figures struck with equal ruthlessness.

They paused, momentarily stunned.

After a brief hesitation, the eastern figure dashed towards the woods in retreat.

The western pursuer inhaled deeply and raced across the rippling pond.

As he chased, he occasionally threw poisoned weapons; the fleeing figure moved oddly, weaving through the trees with ease.

The chase lasted the time it took to drink a cup of tea before both halted.

A few sharp sounds whistled through the air—the pursuer ducked.

Three red-headed centipedes, each as long as an arm, coiled upon a branch, poised to attack.

The pursuer crouched low, raised his hand without looking, and flung three steel needles, striking the centipedes dead on.

A hiss—the centipedes’ fluids hit the earth, smoking instantly.

The opposing figure laughed, his aged voice echoing:

"I wonder who you might be, to covet the white-scaled python as well?"

The pursuer straightened, smiling, and saluted, replying in an equally aged voice:

"From the bamboo terraces of Xiangxi, mist rising to the clouds. Two rows in the Miao King’s hall—may I ask which seat you occupy, sir?"

The centipede-wielder was indeed a shaman of the Xiangxi Miao tribe. In their brief exchange, the other had discerned his identity.

Yet the shaman was not unfamiliar with his adversary; the opponent’s poisoned weapons revealed much.

The shaman hunched his back and smiled, saluting in return:

"Miao King’s magic rises like nanmu wood, but I am but halfway up. Deep mansion with flying eaves—what position do you hold?"

The other old man sneered; these ‘Mountain Gate greetings’ were well-known.

Having his identity revealed, the Tang clan elder flicked his wrist, sending several poisoned needles flying from his forearm...

The scene shifted back to the pond.

Gu Mo, who had fainted from the thunder, slowly awoke.

He sat up, rubbing his head, digging at his ringing ears, and suddenly recalled the tribulation python.

"Huh... The tribulation's over? Where is the golden pill?"

But the pond showed only ripples—no sign of the white-scaled python.

A burnt smell drifted in, leaving Gu Mo bewildered and regretful.

"Damn! Where’s the python? Did ‘Liu Kunsheng’ fail his tribulation?"

Ding ding!

Distraught, Gu Mo followed the sounds of battle to the woods, where sparks flickered.

"Damn! There are others near the pond?"

A chill swept over him, sweat pouring down.

Yet curiosity drove him on.

After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Gu Mo crept to the scene’s edge.

Peering in, he saw two aged men in black night attire, their contest enveloped in clouds of black poison...