Chapter 32: Extra Story (I)

It was unclear when it began, but at some point, this snake, who had become a demon by a stroke of luck, grew to loathe the night—the stagnant emptiness of darkness made it inexplicably anxious and restless. It could not recall when this affliction started; it must have been not long ago, perhaps a hundred years, five hundred years... or even earlier.

Yet for a serpent spirit with a few centuries behind it, such anxiety and restlessness were mere trifles. After all, it had neither the desire to cultivate immortality nor to become a Buddha, so matters of tempering the heart seemed irrelevant.

From beginning to end, it always felt that being a demon was best. That’s why, a millennium ago, when its neighbor invited it to seek immortality together, it refused. It simply could not understand that white serpent demon—what was so great about becoming an immortal? For beings like them, even if they endured countless hardships and succeeded, at best they would become celestial maidens serving the great deities in heaven. Why would it rush to serve others unless its head had swollen to the size of a human's?

But every serpent has its own aspirations. That neighbor still left, claiming she wished to wander the mortal world and cultivate a human heart.

It then realized with a jolt—so to become immortal, one must first cultivate the heart of a human? That sounded far too troublesome. So it could only wave its tail in farewell as she descended the mountain. Later, she returned a few times, having taken on human form to visit her kin—dressed in flowing white robes, resembling the Compassionate One. Of course, a little demon like itself had never had the chance to hear the teachings of the Compassionate One, but according to the flower demon who often came to chat, this neighbor had become quite remarkable. She had gained a great reputation among mortals and performed many good deeds; even she herself said she had benefited greatly from her time down the mountain.

It still remembered vividly the look on her face when she said those words—her eyes shone, flirtatious and bashful, with a glimmer of moisture within. The scent of snake had vanished from her body, replaced by a fragrance that made it constantly sneeze.

Back then, when it stuck out its tongue at her in disdain, she rapped it on the head without ceremony and scolded it for its earthy smell, saying it was filthy. Hmph, it hadn’t even complained about her strange new scent!

Watching her wobble back and forth on those two feet with ten toes, demonstrating how to walk, it thought its neighbor must have gone mad or been tricked by someone.

Had she not always said she wanted to become an immortal? After a trip down the mountain, how had she become half a human?

Later, the neighbor seldom returned; even when she did come, nine out of ten words were about some man—truly tedious.

Much later, when it went to Mount Hua to steal the flower demon’s wine, it heard that same neighbor had committed a grave sin, was struck back to her original form, and ended up as snake soup for humans.

It sighed deeply upon hearing this, but also felt a surge of relief.

It believed its own days were plump and lovely, yet it did not notice when the flower valley became empty.

When it awoke from hibernation once more, the butterfly spirits, the bee demons, the carp elves—all who had once spoken with it—were gone. The valley, rich in spiritual energy, was now eerily silent.

It suddenly understood: so this was the loneliness its neighbor had spoken of.

This malady troubled it for a time, and with a stir of its serpent heart, it too wished to descend the mountain.

Desire blossomed into action. It never suppressed its wants.

For a demon, after all, the greatest joy was freedom—doing whatever one wished, whenever one wished.