Master White Cloud finished speaking and reached toward the wall, retrieving a long iron case, sturdy and well?forged. From her gourd, she took out several dozen pills of immortality, then lifted the lid of the case.

  Inside lay a centipede, two feet and four inches long—longer than a man's forearm. Its scales glowed bright red, like molten fire, and its eyes were as large as teacups, shining with piercing green light that made Zhou Chun's skin prickle. Master White Cloud placed the pills inside the case, and the centipede stirred faintly, its antennae twitching. She quickly closed the lid, her expression solemn.

  “Such a spiritual creature,” Bearded Taoist said, leaning closer to the case. “Its venom must be deadlier than the serpent demon's. I wonder how Master Canxia managed to subdue it?”

  Master White Cloud smiled faintly, a hint of warmth in her voice. “When Master Canxia was young, she was quite the mischievous girl—before she took her vows. One day, she caught a tiny centipede, no more than two or three inches long, crawling in her garden. She kept it in a wooden box and fed it rice every day, treating it like a pet. As years passed, it grew, slowly but surely. By the time she married, it was already five or six feet long—longer than a tall man—and she insisted on bringing it with her as part of her dowry.”

  “Her father feared the creature would frighten the townsfolk and refused to let her take it. Reluctantly, she had servants carry it into the mountains and set it free, tears in her eyes. Later, after her husband passed away, she was accepted as a disciple by the Divine Nun Master Youtan and trained to become a Sword Immortal. She returned to the very mountains where she'd released the centipede and reclaimed it as her mountain?guarding treasure.”

  “Over a hundred years, Master Canxia refined it with ancient spells and fed it only immortal herbs and pills—nothing mortal. It gained divine power, able to shrink to the size of a finger or grow to tower over a man, at will. It also developed a sharp spiritual sense, never harming innocent beings without reason. Master Canxia treasures it more than any artifact. I begged her at great length, bargaining with favors and promises, before she agreed to lend it to me, even for a short while. Brother, do not underestimate this creature—it is worth more than a dozen flying swords.”

  The three conversed long into the night, with Bearded Taoist and Master White Cloud asking Zhou Chun about the martial arts he had mastered, his past battles, and his reason for seeking their help. Zhou Chun spoke openly, his voice firm as he described Maotai's vow to kill him, and his fear for his disciple Zhao Yan'er. Before they knew it, the first hint of dawn painted the eastern sky, turning the dark mountains pale pink.

  “It is time,” Master White Cloud said, standing up. Her robes swirled around her, and her eyes sharpened with resolve.

  She turned to Zhou Chun, her tone grave. “The path ahead is extremely dangerous. The serpent demon has plagued this valley for years, killing travelers and villagers alike. If you wish to come, you may only watch from the sidelines—do not act rashly. Your skill is great, but against a demon of this power, you will be killed.”

  Zhou Chun nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I understand. But I will not stand idly by. If I can help, even in a small way, I will.”

  With that, Master White Cloud set off toward the valley, the other two following close behind. The red sun had just risen above the horizon, its light spilling over the jagged peaks and illuminating the path clearly. They walked for half an hour, until they came to a place of treacherous, barren mountains—rocky, gray, and lifeless, where not even a blade of grass grew. The air smelled of sulfur and rot.

  “We are not far from the serpent's lair,” Master White Cloud told Bearded Taoist, pausing at the edge of a steep cliff. “I will draw it out. While I fight it, I ask you to block its retreat with the Dark Hero Sword—do not let it slip back into the cave. If it escapes, it will return with more fury, and more innocent lives will be lost.”

  She walked forward alone, her steps light as a feather. Zhou Chun and Bearded Taoist leaped onto a nearby peak, their eyes fixed on the valley below. There, in the center of the barren landscape, gaped a massive cave, pitch?black and bottomless, its entrance streaked with dried blood and shattered bones. A cold wind gusted from the cave, carrying the stench of death.

  Master White Cloud stopped not far from the cave's entrance and let out a low, whistling cry—a sound like a bird of prey, sharp and piercing. Suddenly, a violent wind erupted from the cave, swirling dust and rocks into the air. Master White Cloud spun on her heel and fled, drawing the demon toward her.

  In the blink of an eye, a black gust burst from the cave, and a giant serpent charged out. Golden scales glinted in the sunlight, its body thick as a wine jar, and its red eyes blazed with hatred. It was over ten zhang long—longer than three wagons end to end—its forked tongue flicking in and out as it moved with terrifying speed, its body coiling and uncoiling as it chased Master White Cloud.

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  It chased her for almost half a li—about a quarter of a mile—before Master White Cloud suddenly turned and shouted, “Come and get it!” A streak of purple light flew from her hand, her flying sword humming like a plucked string as it cut through the air.

  The serpent spat a flame several zhang long—hot enough to melt stone—clashing with the radiant blade. The two forces collided with a deafening roar, sending sparks flying. They fought for a while, the serpent's flames and Master White Cloud's sword clashing again and again, until the serpent realized it was outmatched. It hissed in anger and turned to flee back to its cave.

  Bearded Taoist acted at once, unleashing his Dark Hero Sword. A beam of green light shot toward the serpent's head, fast as lightning. Cornered, the serpent coiled its body into a tight ball and spewed blazing fire and poisonous mist, battling both swords at once. Even the immortal blades could not pierce its thick scales—they bounced off, leaving only faint scratches.

  Master White Cloud and Bearded Taoist each stood upon a peak, guiding their swords with precise hand gestures. They fought for a long while, the valley shaking with their power, yet neither side gained victory. Zhou Chun watched anxiously, his fingers itching to join the fight. He knew he was no match for the demon, but he hated feeling useless—hated watching others risk their lives while he stood by.

  Master White Cloud had no choice. She signaled to Bearded Taoist, and both recalled their swords. The serpent saw the swords retreat and assumed its enemies had fled. It let out a deafening hiss and lunged toward Master White Cloud, its jaws gaping wide enough to swallow a man whole.

  Then something shot from White Cloud's hand—a flash of red light that illuminated the entire valley, turning the gray rocks to gold. She had released the centipede.

  The moment it left the case, it grew in the wind, stretching to over a zhang long—taller than a man—its red scales shining brighter than ever. Its antennae twitched, and its green eyes locked onto the serpent. The serpent sensed a deadly foe and fought with all its might, spewing fire and mist to drive the centipede back. The two creatures clashed, the centipede's sharp legs scraping against the serpent's scales, the serpent's jaws snapping at the centipede's body.

  Zhou Chun could stand it no longer. He grabbed a fist-sized rock from the peak and hurled it toward the serpent's head, aiming to distract it. The rock hit the serpent's scales with a loud crack, but it barely flinched—yet it was enough. The centipede seized the moment, lunging forward and snapping its jaws shut on the serpent's seven?inch vital spot, the one weak point in its armor.

  The serpent screamed in agony, thrashing its long tail against the rocks, shattering stone into hail?like fragments that flew through the air. It coiled around the centipede's tail, its jaws biting down hard, neither creature willing to let go. It was a terrifying, brutal sight—two monsters, fighting to the death.

  The three men stood together on the peak, watching. Bearded Taoist prepared to send his sword to aid the centipede, but Master White Cloud quickly stopped him, fearing the blade would injure the precious creature. “Let them fight,” she said, her voice sad. “This is their fate.”

  Before they could speak another word, a deafening crash shook the earth. The serpent, in its agony, had swept its tail and broken a large boulder that jutted from the valley mouth—bigger than a cart. The rock fell directly onto its head, smashing its skull open, blood and brains spilling onto the ground. The centipede, too, had exhausted its strength from the fight; it went limp, its body shrinking back to its original size before collapsing beside the serpent's corpse.

  Master White Cloud and Bearded Taoist flew down at once and sliced the serpent's body into more than a dozen pieces, ensuring it would never terrorize the valley again. Gazing at the dead centipede, Master White Cloud sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I hesitated to release it because I feared mutual destruction. How shall I explain this to Master Canxia? She trusted me with her most precious treasure.”

  Bearded Taoist shook his head, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This demon plagued the region and murdered countless living beings. Thanks to Master Canxia's centipede, the great evil is gone. This is a great merit—she will not blame us. She is a wise woman, and she will understand.”

  Before he finished speaking, a black?robed young woman descended from the mountain peak, her feet hovering in the air as she flew. A gourd hung at her waist, and her eyes were sharp and clear. She approached the two immortals and bowed respectfully, her voice steady and calm.

  “Disciple Zhou Qingyun, sent by Master Canxia. Master bids you not to worry. The centipede's death is fate—she foresaw it before she lent it to you. I am to take its remains back to the mountain, where we will give it a proper burial.”

  She walked to the centipede, knelt down, and placed a small pill in its mouth. At once, the creature shrank to just seven or eight inches long, its scales dimming. She carefully picked it up and placed it inside her gourd, which glowed faintly as it sealed the centipede's body.

  Then she turned to Master White Cloud, her eyes scanning the peak behind him. “My master says my father, Zhou Chun, is here. May I see him?”

  Master White Cloud smiled, realizing she was Zhou Chun's daughter. She called Zhou Chun down from the peak, his voice warm. “Your daughter has come for you.”

  Zhou Chun leaped down, his heart racing. When he saw Qingyun, joy shone in his eyes—he had not seen her in years, not since she had left to train with Master Canxia. He rushed to her, his voice cracking with emotion. “Qingyun… my daughter. You're safe.”

  Qingyun smiled, embracing him briefly. “I am safe, Father. And I am here to help you.”