Chapter Four: Pretend, and Pretend Boldly
“In the old days, though present, I was not myself; now I go to the capital to spend the late spring. A single tree resounds with cicadas, a stream reflects the moon—who does this night belong to?”
The immense serpent, concealed in the distance, shuddered at the casual verse uttered by the ‘master.’ Deep in its mind, it pondered the hidden meaning within these lines…
“In the old days, though present, I was not myself”—was this not the master lamenting his own reincarnation and retraining?
“Now I go to the capital to spend the late spring”—it must mean his journey is to a place called the capital…
“A single tree resounds with cicadas, a stream reflects the moon”—surely a depiction of the scene, perfectly matching the current surroundings…
“Who does this night belong to?”—a touch of inquiry, which must mean the master has already noticed its presence!
The snake demon grew more certain that the master was testing it, and so, without further hesitation, it slithered forth from the forest…
In a weak and trembling voice, it said, “I… I am but a timid little demon, not wishing to conceal my whereabouts. I hope the immortal master will not be angered…”
…
Xu Boqing was so startled by the voice that he jolted upright. He hadn’t even managed to see who it was before he felt his seat jostle violently. Fearing that the donkey beneath him would be frightened and throw him, he pressed his hands against its back and used the momentum to leap off.
Whether from sitting too long or exerting himself too much, his legs went numb as soon as he landed. They felt utterly unresponsive, as though he’d lost all feeling…
Sensing its burden had lightened, the donkey wasted no time—it whirled around and bolted, braying out a series of miserable cries as it fled.
His means of transport gone, Xu Boqing felt not the slightest regret. Seeing the massive snake sprawled across the road ahead, he very nearly wanted to run after the donkey himself…
If only… his legs weren’t numb!
…
The snake demon, seeing that the ‘immortal master’ had dismounted only to stand there with a grim expression, feared it had angered the master. Bowing its head low, it spoke in a human tongue: “Forgive me, immortal master! Please forgive me…”
…
A talking serpent!
A snake… demon?
Xu Boqing’s breath caught in his throat, a chill shooting from his soles up the length of his spine, beads of cold sweat instantly breaking out across his back. Now his legs weren’t just numb—they’d gone weak as well. Running wasn’t an option; even walking seemed impossible…
In the original owner’s memories, there were indeed martial artists in the Great Liang—his second uncle and cousin were such examples. There were wandering swordsmen and highwaymen aplenty, all skilled in the martial arts.
Nothing particularly unusual.
So he had always assumed this world was not unlike the ancient one of his previous life…
But now—
Suddenly, a ten-meter-long, barrel-thick serpent capable of speech had burst forth, addressing him as ‘immortal master.’ Under the dual assault of sight and comprehension, the fact he hadn’t collapsed on the spot was already proof enough of his courage!
Do not panic! Absolutely do not panic!
A cold draft swept over him, snapping him back to his senses. His mind raced, seeking a way to respond.
This giant serpent could speak, which meant this world truly harbored spirits, immortals, and monsters.
It called him ‘immortal master’ and showed great deference—either it had mistaken him for someone else, or it had come seeking a favor.
In the original memories, he had eaten plenty of snake soup, but never saved a snake’s life; as for himself, he’d only arrived in this world half a day ago, bore the surname Xu rather than Xu (as in ‘Xu Xian’), and knew nothing of any snake.
He did possess a ‘golden finger’ of sorts, but his body was that of an ordinary man—he was certainly not the immortal master the serpent believed him to be!
Other than his hundred-plus pounds of flesh being a potential meal, he couldn’t imagine what the snake demon might want from him…
In other words, it had mistaken him for someone else!
It had taken him for some reincarnated immortal cultivator!
If that were the case, there might be a chance at survival!
Having sorted his thoughts, Xu Boqing felt his mouth go dry. Running was out of the question—he doubted his legs could outpace a snake demon anyway. He was left with only two options…
Plan one: Tell the truth—admit he was merely a mortal, not an immortal master, and beg for his life.
But the snake demon was only so deferential because of its mistake; once it realized he was just a mortal, would it remain so humble?
Most likely, it would become enraged and swallow him whole…
Not wise.
Plan two: Pretend! Pretend to be the immortal master it believed him to be!
The snake demon regarded him as an immortal master and showed such deference, so it must deeply revere such figures. If he acted convincingly enough, he just might get away with it…
The challenge was how to act; if he slipped up and was exposed, the snake demon would surely be furious, and death would follow!
“If begging for mercy means death, and pretending means death, then to hell with it—at least if I pretend, I’ll die with dignity!”
Having made up his mind, Xu Boqing took a deep breath, forcing down his fear. He fixed his gaze on the massive serpent, his expression calm as he asked, “What is your crime?”
The snake demon, still chanting for forgiveness, noticed the immortal master’s silence. Gathering its courage, it peeked up—and saw the master staring intently at it, asking after its crimes. Already timid by nature, the demon immediately pressed itself even lower to the ground…
…
The immortal master’s expression was calm, betraying no particular dislike for demonkind. To ask after crimes must surely be to test my character, to see if I am honest.
Having grasped the master’s profound intentions, it replied, “I am guilty of two things. First, though I sensed the immortal master’s reincarnation and recognized you as a true immortal of the Dao, I lacked the courage to seek enlightenment, instead lurking nearby, probing and hesitating, only daring to show myself after you prompted me.
“Second, my cultivation is shallow and I have yet to take human form, so I cannot conceal my demonic aura. Upon revealing myself, I startled your mount and sullied your immortal sight…”
“Oh?” Xu Boqing raised an eyebrow, his tone curious—using the moment to analyze the information hidden in the serpent’s words.
“Could it be that, by some coincidence, it witnessed my own soul’s crossing and possession of this body, and thus mistook me for a reincarnated immortal cultivator?”
He followed the serpent’s lead, feigning nonchalance as he asked, “How did you come to know I was one reincarnated and cultivating anew?”
At this, the snake demon’s heart leapt—previously, it had only deduced from inherited bloodline memories that this was the sign of an immortal master’s reincarnation. Now, the immortal master did not deny it, but instead asked how it had learned this secret. Was that not, in effect, an admission?
But why did the immortal master ask—could it be he had not discerned my origins?
After pondering a moment, the snake demon felt a vague understanding. Masters of the Dao value character above all; such questioning could only mean one of two things: either the immortal master, reincarnated, has yet to recover his powers, or he is testing my honesty. Judging by his calm tone, the latter seemed most likely.
It must answer sincerely…
“Let me explain, immortal master,” the snake demon said, daring to slither a little closer, its form now bathed in silvery moonlight. “I carry the blood of the ancient Profound Yin Serpent, granting me sensitivity to the energies of life and death.
“Before your arrival, this body was suffused with deathly energy, its three souls and seven spirits scattered. Upon your arrival, however, the body was filled with vibrant vitality, as brilliant as the blazing sun—dazzling and impossible to look upon.
“From the knowledge inherited in my bloodline, I deduced that this was the mark of a great Daoist immortal’s reincarnation and cultivation anew.”
Seeing the snake demon draw nearer, Xu Boqing feared he had revealed a flaw, his heart pounding wildly. But upon hearing the explanation, the tension in his chest finally subsided.
By the light of the moon, he could now make out the serpent’s form—its body a deep, inky black, its triangular head confirming it was a true snake, not a python. Fine scales, patterned with faint grey-white markings, gave it a fearsome and forbidding appearance.