At the entrance of Wuliang Cave, Ye Tian stood silently.

“Are you very sad?” Someone spoke to her. She looked left and right, but there was no one around. So many things had happened recently that Ye Tian’s hair stood on end at once. She drew the sword from her back in one swift motion and called out sharply in alarm: “Who’s there?”

The voice sounded rather helpless: “Look down — you’re about to step on me!!”

Ye Tian lowered her head and only then noticed the three-eyed snake that had lent half its life to He Bang. Her face flushed red. She sheathed her sword, let out a cold snort, and said nothing. The three-eyed snake seemed quite moved: “Actually, I’m pretty sad too. After all, I lent half my life — and those two just left like that, without even saying goodbye to me.”

Ye Tian felt both irritated and amused: “You’re just a snake — who would bother saying goodbye to you? Besides, if it weren’t for you, He Bang’s martial cultivator wouldn’t have ended up with Madam Liu, and he wouldn’t have died. Maybe she wouldn’t have even needed to borrow a life at all. You’d better make yourself scarce — that He Bang is not someone who keeps her word.”

The three-eyed snake coiled itself in a circle around Ye Tian, trapping her in the middle: “I know that, actually. I just saw that no one was paying attention to you either, so I thought I’d have a chat. Once I cultivate into human form, people will say hello to me.”

Ye Tian glanced down at it, let out a cold snort, stepped over it, and strode away.

The three-eyed snake found this rather dull. Being a snake that had always known how to read the wind, it ambled off to the mountain spring behind the hill when it had nothing better to do, used its tail to fish out a fat, plump crucian carp, and then slithered into He Bang’s private chamber to curry favor — after all, He Bang’s pearl was still planted inside it. He Bang barely acknowledged its presence, until it raised its tail and dangled the fat fish from its tip.

He Bang stared at the fish, mouth watering: “Go find Qingyin, and have him prepare it as sweet-and-sour fish for me.”

The three-eyed snake felt it had found the right way to flatter her, and hurried off to the kitchen with a bob of its head. Qingyin refused to take a life, and furthermore, the rules of the temple forbade meat — so he flatly refused. The three-eyed snake felt that any task the boss assigned had to be carried out to completion. It swayed its head to and fro, dangling the fish, and made to head down the mountain to have the villagers cook it instead. This gave Qingyin such a fright that he hurriedly stopped it: “The villagers will lose their minds if they see you!”

The three-eyed snake coiled its tail around Qingyin’s leg and pleaded piteously. It had always had a silver tongue, and Qingyin had no choice but to relent: “I’ll make it in secret — you absolutely cannot breathe a word.”

Only then did the three-eyed snake break into a grin and release him: “Thank you, Daoye! Daoye, you are truly brilliant, noble-hearted, learned beyond measure, full of wisdom and strategy, full of generosity and virtue and magnanimous chival—”

Qingyin’s foot slipped, and he nearly toppled headfirst into the pot.

Half a shichen later, He Bang was sipping a fragrant fish broth. It wasn’t sweet-and-sour fish, but it was at least considerably better than plain congee. The three-eyed snake curled up at the edge of her bed and played the obedient servant, and He Bang set aside her old grievances for the time being. She began to instruct it: “But you’re a female snake. If you were male, the Blazing Yang Art would be the fastest path. For a female snake, you can only cultivate the Pure Water Scripture.”

The snake lifted its head proudly: “Haihuang, I am male — male!” It opened its throat wide, and sure enough, its voice dropped into a low, rich baritone.

“If you’re male, what kind of human would you become?” He Bang sipped her broth and lectured it: “I advise you to give it up. Being human is a tremendous headache. First of all, you have no household registration — the authorities will treat you as an undocumented person, and you won’t be able to enroll in a private school or obtain a student registration. The enrollment fees alone will bleed you dry! Even if you manage to fight your way into a household registration through every means possible, you still can’t afford to buy a house. Working from dawn to dusk as a laborer, and the food — don’t even get me started — toxic rice, paper-stuffed buns. And whenever you feel like having a cup of cow’s milk or goat’s milk, you have to wonder whether your own leather boots have been soaking in it. By the time you’ve finally forged yourself through all that hardship and bought a house, you’ll discover the right of use is only seventy years. Then you’ll find you also need to buy a carriage and a sedan chair, so you work several more decades, buy the carriage and chair, and then you need to hire sedan-chair bearers. And even if you manage to hire them, you still need to take a wife!” She counted it out for the three-eyed snake finger by finger: “Once you have a house, a carriage, and a sedan chair, you can’t exactly marry someone beneath your station, can you? But look at your situation — no official position, poor family background. What fine and beautiful lady from a good family would be willing to marry you? So you’d have to obtain some official post. After working another hundred years and buying yourself an office, you think you can finally take a wife. So you marry a beautiful wife — and then a higher-ranking official arrives, sees your beautiful wife…”

The three-eyed snake gaped open-mouthed, but He Bang was not finished: “If you want to keep your wife, you first have to keep your post. To keep your post, you have to offer up your wife. The result is either you lose your post and your wife returns to her family, or you offer up your wife and keep the position. And then a new problem arises — if your wife becomes pregnant, you’ll know the child is certainly not yours. And if your wife doesn’t become pregnant, you’re even worse off… You’re a snake — cross-species pairing is highly likely to cause infertility. Surely you can’t go looking for another female snake to lay your eggs?”

The three-eyed snake wore an expression of utter despair. He Bang patted its head: “Even if you work another hundred years as an official, finally scrape together enough consultation fees, and find some highly skilled practitioner to cure your infertility — ha, then you’re worse off than ever! Your son will need to attend private school, won’t he? You’ll need to fund his education. And surely you can’t let him eat toxic rice, paper-stuffed buns, and leather-boot milk again? So you’ll have to work even harder in your post, striving to get on the special provisions list. You’ll work yourself to the bone, finally climb high enough in office — but how can you know your son won’t turn out to be a pampered, good-for-nothing wastrel? If that’s the case, you’re even more wretched — you’ll have to buy him a residence, a sedan chair, a carriage, hire him sedan-chair bearers, servant girls, a wife, a concubine… and then grandchildren… then you’ll have to send your grandchildren to private school, buy them residences, hire them servant girls, sedan-chair bearers, wives, concubines… and then their children…”

At that moment, Rong Chen Zi was seated in quiet meditation in the Founding Master’s Hall. The three-eyed snake slithered in, dejected, and coiled itself on a rush-woven cushion. It chattered on, recounting all the “troubles of being human” that He Bang had described, its voice heavy with hopelessness: “Zhiguan, I want to become human — was that a mistake?”

Rong Chen Zi rose and added fresh clear oil to the lamp. His robe sleeve swept across the ancient table; his bearing was poised and measured, his dignity entire: “If you truly wish to understand, then sit and meditate here.”

The three-eyed snake was uncertain: “Just by sitting here, I’ll understand?”

Rong Chen Zi did not bother to say more. After bowing three times with incense between his fingers, he departed the Founding Master’s Hall. Only then did the three-eyed snake remember there was something it had not yet asked: “Zhiguan — should I meditate coiled in one circle, or wound in several coils, or upright, or laid flat…”

Exiting the Founding Master’s Hall and turning right along the gravel path, past the Yuanfu Palace, one reached Ye Tian’s chamber. Ye Tian lay leaning against the windowsill, watching snowflakes drift softly past outside. The weather had grown cold; Lingxia Mountain had begun to frost over, ice and snow blanketing the paths, and fewer and fewer pilgrims came up the mountain to burn incense. She was bored when suddenly a faint, translucent figure flitted past. Ye Tian started, and immediately grabbed her sword and gave chase.

The figure was pale as floating ice, yet Ye Tian recognized from barely a glimpse of the retreating silhouette who it was.

At Liu Mansion, Liu Qinfang sat motionless by the lake in Chunhui Hall. Snow had settled half-deep on her shoulders; her hands had long since swollen red with cold, yet she felt nothing. Behind her came the sound of footsteps crunching over thin ice. She turned her head and saw an extraordinarily pale shadow — water-colored robes, black hair falling to the waist. Who else could it be but He Bang?

She slowly backed away, a cold smile still playing on her lips: “You?”

The shadow leaned forward and lightly brushed a corner of her robe, her movement unhurried and graceful: “Since you knew I wasn’t dead, you should have known I would come.”

The fear and alarm in Liu Qinfang’s eyes gradually receded. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she was utterly haggard: “And what of it that you’ve come? Whatever power you have, use it. I dared to kill you — I won’t be afraid of you.”

He Bang looked at her directly for the first time. Those eyes, clear and still as water, held neither sorrow nor joy, calm as a flowing stream: “I have no need for your fear.” She flicked her fingers lightly, and Liu Qinfang felt a tremendous pulling force rush toward her. She charged toward He Bang, intent on one last desperate gamble. But her hands passed clean through He Bang’s body — that space was entirely hollow, as though no one stood there at all.

He Bang closed her fingers slightly, and Liu Qinfang found herself still standing — yet behind her, her own body had fallen. She began to feel afraid, and yet she could no longer even step back. He Bang lifted her as lightly as lifting a feather, and, effortlessly passing through the courtyard wall, carried her along the frost-covered long streets until they reached a pig pen.

The farmer had already fed the animals, and the pigs were resting quietly. Liu Qinfang struggled and cried out desperately, but even the people who brushed past her could neither see nor hear her — it was as though she did not exist at all. When she saw the filthy black pig before her, her voice finally trembled with terror: “What do you intend to do?”

He Bang’s voice was clear and crisp as an icicle hanging beneath the eaves: “I want to tell you a few things.” Liu Qinfang felt herself drawing closer and closer to the black pig, until she was slowly sinking into its body. In the shadows, Ye Tian was about to rush forward, but she saw He Bang seat herself on the top rail of the pen and begin to tell an unremarkable story:

“When I first encountered Chunyu Lin, he was still a carp — gold-red in color, pulled aboard a fishing boat in a net alongside so many other fish. Among all of them, he was the most beautiful. At that time I was gravely wounded. I carried him through the river for over a month. He fed on my spiritual power and was able to awaken his spiritual intelligence. The Heavenly Dao recorded that, more than three hundred years later, on a certain day, a star deity would be born on Lingxia Mountain. So I brought him along and settled in the Lingxia sea territory. I fought the surrounding Sea Clan for a long time and was heavily injured, but fortunately that region was small and had no great demons, so the Dragon King simply named me Haihuang.”

She was smiling, but a burning light rolled in her eyes: “Apparently, when fish are raised without any shortage of food or clothing, they really are terribly slow. They learn everything so slowly. I had no choice but to research recipes, looking for things to supplement his mind. And then he stopped eating and threw himself furiously into cultivation. Within just over thirty years, he was able to take human form. His human form was beautiful too — among all the Sea Clan, none could compare. When he was over a hundred years old, he still couldn’t find a weapon to suit him. I went to the Dragon King’s palace and churned the ocean waters without stopping for two years, until the Dragon King finally agreed to give me the Thousand-Year Cold Essence. We spent another twenty-some years searching before we found a sword-smith, and drew up the designs for what became his sword. He grew smarter and smarter, read more and more books, and the meals he cooked were delicious. Among all the demons of the Lingxia sea territory, none was his equal.”

With nothing around her but her own voice and the soft fall of snow, she lifted her head and gazed up at that gray-ash sky: “Later, a star deity was truly born in the Lingxia sea territory. But the Heavenly Dao recorded that killing or injuring a star deity would bring down divine retribution. Before I could think of a better plan, his demonic tribulation was already at hand. I had no choice but to go to Qingxu Temple — Rong Chen Zi’s heart’s blood could temporarily suppress the demonic energy in his body and delay his tribulation. I thought that once he grew stronger, combined with my power, crossing the tribulation would be a certainty. When I saw the two of you, I knew the retribution for karmic interference had begun. I did not dare to intervene in any of it.” Her eyes were misted with moisture, yet her voice was as detached and remote as snow falling from beyond the sky. “But that is the nature of the Heavenly Dao — it can let you see every major thread of fate, it can even give you an open-book examination, yet even if you answer every question correctly, you cannot predict what the final outcome will be.”

She rose and lightly brushed the corner of her robe once more: “You feel this is deeply unfair, don’t you?”

Inside the pen, the black pig thrashed desperately. He Bang’s voice was warm and composed: “I am not telling you all this to seek your sympathy. I simply do not wish for you to have picked up someone precious to my heart and imagined it was something I carelessly threw away. There is no need for you to feel it is unfair — there is no fairness in this world to begin with. I have cultivated for thousands of years, and I did not come to save all of humanity. Your mother, you, even all the living beings under heaven — whether I save them or not is a matter of sentiment versus principle. At the very least, you have no right to harbor resentment. What you and Chunyu Lin felt for each other, I have nothing to say about — but to scheme for the Celestial Water Spirit Essence was simply boundless greed.”

A young girl’s sobbing came from within the pig’s body. For the first time, Liu Qinfang was truly terrified: “Forgive me — I am only fifteen years old, I don’t want to stay here, please forgive me!”

He Bang stood like a silhouette, her form swaying with the wind: “You think your circumstances are pitiable, but within the Three Realms and Five Elements, how many tens of millions suffer far more pitiable fates than yours? Youth is not an excuse for wrongdoing, nor is it a reason for others to forgive you. You were born human, and you must pay the price for what you have done.” She floated down from the rail. From within the pen, Liu Qinfang screamed out in a sharp voice — but He Bang did not choose to forgive her in the end. A demon who had lived for thousands of years had long since been ground into a heart of iron and stone.