The seasons hasten the changing weather; one night of warm southern winds brings the summer heat.
Yesterday it was still spring. But overnight, as the clear breeze swept across the southern shores, summer had arrived.
The rise in temperature grew ever more pronounced. By evening, choruses of insect song rose from the grassy edges of ponds—a natural symphony that seemed to celebrate the vitality of life itself.
In the fields, men and women, young and old, hurried to transplant seedlings and sow seeds, eager to capitalize on the rainy season that would soon arrive and spur their crops to rapid growth.
Within the cities, commerce burned even hotter. Crowds thronged everywhere.
Ships plied ceaselessly along the Long River, the great waterway that linked north and south across the Great Zhou Kingdom. Some carried jewels, fine wines, and exquisite crafts from the north; others bore grain, medicinal herbs, and timber from the south.
The ceaseless bustle of the docks had been dubbed by many a scholar and poet “the barometer of the Great Zhou Kingdom’s fortunes.”
“Three hundred loads—need ten able-bodied hands, quick and nimble! Sign up now!”
“I’m in!” “Me, me, me!” “I’ve got the muscle for it!”
Stone Bridge Wharf took its name from the century-old stone bridge that stood sentinel at the river mouth. The place was small, but it handled a steady stream of ships, leaving it perpetually crowded.
Unfortunately, its location in the central-western reaches of the Great Zhou Kingdom meant there were no major cities nearby. Most traffic consisted of small- and medium-sized cargo vessels. Crowded it might be, but prosperity was a distant dream.
The people seen along the shore typically fell into one of two camps.
The well-dressed, pot-bellied ones were merchants, here to trade their wares. The ragged, rough-handed ones were porters, loading and unloading for the merchants.
Those with real wealth and power never set foot here. They would rather endure ten days or half a month bouncing along in a carriage to reach a proper passenger dock than hitch a ride on one of these “freeloader” cargo boats.
Comfort aside, the real issue was safety.
Large passenger ships came with official guarantees. The grander ones even had officers stationed aboard. Cargo ships offered no such protection—any trouble, and you were on your own.
The Long River’s reputation was to blame.
“Decades ago, hauling cargo long-distance on the Long River was a death wish,” the Old Merchant explained. “Demons, whirlpools, traps—you name it. Without real skill, the best you could hope for was the ship making it back without the cargo. Only the big trading houses could afford to hire experts to keep people and goods safe.”
“Things are better now. Even small merchants can make a go of it… But miss, I still recommend you take a carriage to the big docks and board a proper passenger ship.”
A man around fifty, the Old Merchant addressed the alluring woman standing before him.
“But the roads around here are awful,” she replied. “That carriage ride nearly shook the breakfast out of me. A boat sounds much better… Is this one headed to Luo City?”
“That’s right…”
The Old Merchant gave the young maiden another appraising look.
He had made the trip to Luo City plenty of times and seen the Great Zhou Kingdom at its most prosperous. He trusted his eye for people.
Her clothes were a touch “conservative”—not prim and priggish, but in an outdated style, almost nostalgic.
Her beauty went without saying; it could captivate anyone at a glance. More telling was her porcelain skin, unmarked by a single day of manual labor.
And from the way she spoke—clueless about the lives of ordinary folk—it was clear: this was a noble young lady who had slipped away from home on a whim.
Likely no ordinary Eldest Young Lady, either. She might even have connections to the high and mighty in the Royal Capital.
With a mindset of “better safe than sorry,” the Old Merchant had no intention of letting her board easily.
What if something happened? It could mean his death.
“Pleeease,” the young maiden pleaded, batting her big, dewy eyes in a way that tugged at the heartstrings. “I’ll bring my own food—no drain on your supplies!”
“Er, it’s not about tea or rations. How much could one girl eat anyway…”
The Old Merchant hesitated.
On one hand, she was polite and had offered ample silver. On the other, he wanted no part of potential trouble.
“The main problem is safety,” he pressed. “There’s an old saying in the Great Zhou Kingdom: ‘No peace upon the Long River.'”
“No worries,” she said, patting her chest confidently. “I’m plenty strong!”
“You…”
The Old Merchant could only smile wryly, chalking it up to youthful bravado.
With those slender arms and legs, that fragile build—if she didn’t end up puking her guts out once underway, they’d be thanking the heavens…
“Alright, alright. If you’re set on it, come aboard. Clearing a spot won’t be a problem.”
“Got it, thanks, Shopkeeper!” the young maiden said excitedly. “I’ll go prepare the provisions now!”
“Uh, you weren’t joking about that, were you?”
Moments later, the young maiden hoisted a hundred jin of preserved fruits, dried meat, flatbreads, and eggs onto her shoulder and bounded up onto the boat with swift steps…
Good grief, was this a “single person’s” worth of food?
The ship hadn’t even set sail yet, and the shopkeeper—who also served as captain—was already in for quite the shock.
This young maiden, whose petite frame belied her enormous appetite, was none other than the Little Snake Demon Yin Luan, who had returned to the Great Zhou Kingdom.
She had set out from the Wonderful Immortal Sect, traversing mountains and ridges, crossing borders, and finally arriving here.
There was still plenty of time before her appointment, but after all the bumpy travel over land these past days, the Little Snake Demon was truly done with roads and paths.
Spotting the docks by chance, Yin Luan decided to give the boat a try.
If danger arose, she could always jump ship—her swimming was decent enough, and she’d just swim wherever the current took her…
The cargo ship’s layover was short. Once the goods were loaded, it departed the docks without delay and resumed its journey.
Ships like this rarely carried women, let alone a young maiden, so the crew eyed her curiously but kept their distance out of caution—likely warned by the shopkeeper beforehand.
The Little Snake Demon paid them no mind. With some free time on her hands, she settled in to diligently cultivate the new technique she had obtained.
The 《Heart Moon Art》 refined Moonlight Power to condense pure Innate Qi within her Dantian.
As the name suggested, it was a method best practiced at night, ideally under a moonlit sky.
It wasn’t impossible to cultivate during the day—the Moonlight Power could still be refined—but the results would be far less efficient.
When Jing had passed this technique to the Little Snake Demon, she probably hadn’t anticipated that her charge was the sort who slept the moment she felt like it, needing to eat her fill and rest well every day.
Needless to say, the Little Snake Demon hadn’t even made a dent in the 《Heart Moon Art》… The moment night fell, she was out like a light. How was she supposed to cultivate? Even moonlight wouldn’t help.
Still, one couldn’t laze about forever. At the very least, while aboard this ship, she resolved to put in a real effort!
The Long River was vast, and as night deepened, the bright moon reflected on its surface, sending ripples of shimmering light across the water. Even one’s thoughts seemed to drift freely in such serenity.
Weather like this was perfect for absorbing Moonlight Power.
The Little Snake Demon perched atop the highest point of the deck, savoring the process of refining the essence of heaven and earth.
“La-Lady Yin, what are you doing up so high?” the Old Merchant called out, half in alarm, half in fear, as he emerged to inspect the ship.
“No worries,” the Little Snake Demon reassured him. “I just came up here for some fresh air.”
The current Little Snake Demon was a far cry from the clueless girl who had first descended the mountain. Before boarding, she had thoroughly checked both the ship and its crew—everything seemed normal, nothing suspicious.
“Uh…”
Remembering how effortlessly she had shouldered that hundred-jin sack, the Old Merchant didn’t bother asking how she’d climbed up there. Out of kindness, he reminded her, “Just come down early, then. It’s a full moon tonight, and by tradition, folks should stay in their cabins on nights like this—best not to have contact with the outside world.”
“Huh? Why’s that?”
“They say the malicious ghosts who drowned in the Long River come out on full moon nights. They drag anyone they spot on deck into the water, seeking company to ease their loneliness…”
“Eek, for real? Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Yin Luan glanced up and sure enough, it was a full moon—pure white and perfectly round. Moonlight Power saturated the air between heaven and earth, several times denser than usual.
The Little Snake Demon was naturally restless, making it hard for her to enter a meditative state. Her previous progress in cultivating Innate Qi had come only through Senior Sister Zou Lian’s relentless prodding—one chop to the neck after another.
Tonight, whether due to the moon’s exceptional brilliance or some other reason, she actually settled into stillness. She sat cross-legged, eyes closed, utterly motionless.
Specks of white light gathered from thin air, drifting onto her body before being absorbed and swiftly refined.
One had to admit, the technique from an immortal was no joke. Yin Luan could feel her power rising at a tangible pace—her Dantian churned, emitting a gurgling rumble…
Oh, wait—that wasn’t her Dantian. Her stomach was growling.
Hold on. She couldn’t waste such a prime state. Who knew when she’d enter meditation again—could be years!
Grrrowl.
But willpower faltered. Was eating more important, or cultivation?
“Of course eating comes first,” the Little Snake Demon muttered to herself, opening her eyes. “How can I cultivate on an empty stomach?”
Cultivation burned through stamina like crazy. She should have brought more snacks up before sitting down…
Yin Luan leaped lightly down from the mast, landing softly. She returned to her cabin for some provisions, then headed to the galley to heat them up.
“No,” she thought, “I should ask the shopkeeper if we can light a fire at night—in case there are more of those bizarre rules…”
When dealing with others, the first principle was always to respect their habits. Most of these rules were probably nothing but groundless superstitions, mere self-reassurance with no real substance. But if they helped steady people’s hearts, then they served a purpose.
Thump thump thump.
“Shopkeeper?”
Yin Luan knocked a few times, but there was no response.
Strange. Had he already gone to bed? She’d try someone else.
“Are you awake?” “Can I ask something?” “Your sleep schedules are way too healthy for this hour, aren’t they? Already asleep?”
She went around knocking, but not a single soul stirred.
Hold on.
“No way they’re all asleep,” Yin Luan realized suddenly. “This is a boat on the water—at the very least, someone should be keeping watch at night, staying alert for any changes on the river’s surface.”
River travel was nothing like traveling by land. Boats ran day and night without stop. If the entire crew slept through, they’d plow straight into rapids, get dragged into whirlpools, or smash against rocks—and that would be the end of everyone aboard.
The Little Snake Demon hurried back to the deck and scanned the area, confirming that no one was there. Without another moment’s hesitation, she kicked the shopkeeper’s door flying open.
No one inside.
The other rooms were the same.
All the people had vanished.
While she had been deep in meditative cultivation, the entire boat had emptied out.
Under normal circumstances, the Little Snake Demon would never let her guard down like this. At the very least, while she was awake, no one could spirit away a whole boatload of people right under her nose.
But tonight marked her very first time entering meditative cultivation. Lacking experience, she couldn’t divide her attention to monitor her surroundings the way Zou Lian or Xian Yuan could.
“What in the ghost is going on?” Yin Luan muttered with a frown. “Didn’t they say the river route was safe now? How could something like this still happen?”
Was the Demon Subduing Division even doing anything at all?
Just as the Little Snake Demon was wondering what to do next, a voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum drifted into her ear.
“Save me… save me… save me…”
The voice sounded utterly feeble. In anything less than total silence, it would have been impossible to make out.
Yin Luan followed the sound down to the cargo hold.
This was the ship’s storeroom, packed floor to ceiling with crates of all shapes and sizes, stuffed with miscellaneous goods.
The moment she stepped inside, the Little Snake Demon’s heart sank.
At some unknown point, a crack had appeared in the storeroom wall. River water was seeping steadily through it, already lapping at her ankles.
If no one discovered it, by morning the water would likely reach halfway up their bodies.
“Save me… save me…”
The voice was coming from somewhere inside the hold, growing even weaker now, its source impossible to pinpoint.
“Is anyone there?”
Yin Luan tiptoed forward, proceeding with utmost caution.
The situation felt profoundly strange.
She caught no scent of a living person.
“Save me… save me…”
Nor did she detect the smell of death.
“No worries—even if it’s some evil spirit, there’s nothing to fear. We’ve taken down immortals before. What could possibly worry us now…?”
Clenching her fist, Yin Luan muttered encouragements to herself as she searched the storeroom.
“Save…”
At last, she traced the voice to the space behind the crate directly in front of her.
“Ahem, fair warning—if you’re some demon, devil, or ghost, you’d best scram now. My fists don’t exactly have eyes…”
No reply came.
“Fine then. Here I come.”
Yin Luan took a couple of steps forward, then had a sudden flash of inspiration.
Why walk right up and let it jumpscare her? Why not just move the crate aside?
“Heave-ho!”
Gripping it with one hand, she shoved the obstructing crate out of the way.
And then…
“Save me!”
“Ah!!!”
A black shadow shot toward the Little Snake Demon at blinding speed.
She let out a shriek of fright and lashed out instinctively with her right leg.
Boom!
The black shadow crashed into the wall with a thunderous impact. The narrow crack split wide open in an instant, and river water came gushing in.
“Oh no—I used too much force…”
Yin Luan hurriedly set the crate down, grabbed a few planks, and nailed the fissure shut with a series of sharp cracks.
Thank goodness she hadn’t aimed the kick straight at the wall, or she might have punched a gaping hole right through the hull…
Only then did she turn to look.
The black shadow was a “person”—a middle-aged man, his hair a tangled mess, his skin ashen white, his frame so emaciated it was little more than skin stretched over bones. His body was hunched and twisted. It was hard to believe he’d mustered that explosive burst of speed just moments ago.
And even after taking a kick like that from the Little Snake Demon, he was somehow still hanging on.
To call it “hanging on” wasn’t quite precise, since Yin Luan couldn’t detect any breath from him at all. Yet he lived.
“You—you alright? I didn’t mean to do that. You scared me, so I lost control and my foot slipped… er, no, I mean my kick went wide…”
“Thank you… for… saving me.” There was no fear on the man’s deathly pale face. Instead, it bore a smile of profound relief. “Finally… I can… leave…”
“What exactly happened?” Yin Luan asked. “Do you know where everyone on the ship went?”
“Remember… no matter what… don’t…”
The man’s voice grew fainter and fainter, until even Little Snake Demon could barely make out his words.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t… board… that ship…”
At that moment, on the river’s surface, a massive vessel—ten times larger than Yin Luan’s own ship, extravagantly decorated and aglow with lanterns—sailed slowly toward them…
