Chapter 2: Yellow Emperor's Yin Fu Classic

The Eagle Falcon above his head gave Ye Qin no chance to catch his breath.

After narrowly dodging the beak, the talons struck again the very next second.

Ye Qin was still unaccustomed to the Serpent Kind's body, but at that moment it felt as if his Ren and Du meridians had opened, and he began to crawl swiftly on the ground.

Even so, the death shadow above his head clung like a bone‑eating maggot, impossible to shake off.

Already gravely wounded, the relentless chase overwhelmed his serpent form, and his speed began to dwindle.

Several times the Eagle Falcon's talons nearly seized him, tearing his serpent scales away with excruciating pain that felt like his heart being ripped out.

His consciousness began to fade from massive blood loss, and he failed to notice the downslope ahead.

In desperation he lunged, his body shooting like a released arrow down the slope and vanishing into a thicket of grass.

Striking rocks left him dizzy and seeing stars; his wound tore open again, blood gushing like a spring and spraying the nearby grass.

At that moment he truly wondered if he would die from blood loss.

Bang!

A dull thud sounded as Ye Qin crashed to the ground, the impact nearly shifting his internal organs.

Ye Qin barely opened his eyes; the light was dim, but he couldn't tell if it was due to his serpent form—his vision was unchanged.

"Where am I?"

Perhaps Heaven, seeing he was about to die, finally gave him a bit of luck—as he fell from the slope he somehow ended up in a cave.

Outside the cave, a continuous stretch of green ivy formed a natural barrier that completely concealed it.

Nobody expected that behind the massive ivy‑covered wall lay another world.

The Eagle Falcon, having lost its target, cried out in frustration a few times before flapping away.

"Looks like my luck isn't bad."

If he hadn't fallen into this cave, he would likely have become the Eagle Falcon's meal.

Ye Qin gave a bitter smile in his heart, but could only hiss.

The area saw little human or beast traffic; perhaps he would be the first intruder.

The ground was damp and the temperature considerably lower than outside.

A cool, shady wind blew onto his face.

Serpent Kind naturally loves shade and moisture, and the setting gave Ye Qin a comfort he hadn't felt in ages.

But the earlier chase and his tumble down the slope worsened his injury again, igniting a burning pain that spread through his body like a ball of fire.

What little scale remained after the lightning strike was now pitifully few—just a few scattered scales hanging there, ready to fall.

His entire serpent form was a gruesome sight.

Ye Qin could feel his vitality draining bit by bit; before long he would lose consciousness and fall into eternal sleep.

"This cave will be my final resting place. I hope that even in death I might be reborn."

Ye Qin tried to find some grim comfort, thinking at least he wouldn't be swallowed by a bird or beast.

His body suddenly struck something icy cold and hard, and a white light flashed.

He looked closely and saw a pile of gleaming white bones!

He had thought it might be a beast's carcass, but tattered clothing still clung to the bones, revealing they were human.

Although the clothing was tattered, its rough outline revealed a long robe steeped in ancient flavor, reminiscent of an ancient scholar.

In other words, this skeleton belonged to someone who died at least a century ago.

And from what the serpent had seen of the world, Ye Qin knew the present was modern—roughly 21st‑century technology—while that ancient person dated back at earliest to the Ming dynasty.

He had thought the cavern abandoned, but he hadn't expected someone to have arrived earlier and already died here.

"I didn't expect to find a companion at death's door; that's a pleasant surprise—on the road to the Yellow Springs, having you as company wouldn't be too lonely."

Ye Qin snorted self‑derisively, as if he could already see himself ending up as white bones.

He didn't know the skeleton's origin or even its sex; perhaps this person had died long ago, unnoticed, until a hundred years later Ye Qin broke in.

"We are both wanderers fallen to the ends of the earth; I'd like to gather your remains, but as a serpent I lack the strength."

"I also don't know whether later anyone will burn incense for us; if someone gives me paper money, seeing that we died in the same place, I'll share some with you—it would also fulfill our bond."

Ye Qin muttered to himself; his black, slender serpent body and the white bones beside him formed a stark contrast.

The skeleton remained silent, as if listening intently.

One serpent, one bone—the scene was eerie yet harmonious.

The quiet cave was filled with a continual hiss, giving a lingering resonance.

"Huh, what is this?"

Ye Qin was crawling, intending to rest beside the bones and wait for death, when he suddenly spotted several books lying on the ground.

The books were dust‑caked, edges yellowed, some rolled up, and showed many signs of insect damage.

Time‑worn and illegible on the cover, the books resembled the Four Books and Five Classics.

One volume especially caught his eye; he could barely make out a few blurred characters, and after staring and guessing, he finally knew its title.

"Yellow Emperor's Yin Fu Classic"

"Look at your attire and these books—could you be an ancient scholar?"

In ancient times scholars would travel to the capital for exams; some died on the long journey—perhaps the one beside Ye Qin was such an unlucky fellow?

Beside the skeleton there was nothing else but this book, which lay by the skull's hand; perhaps the deceased had read it in life, otherwise why would it be there?

As for the Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic, he had heard of it; it is a great work in the history of Xia, ranking alongside the Master Who Embraces Simplicity and Zhuangzi.

Ye Qin was curious about its contents—what exactly it was, to the point that people still recall it on their deathbeds.

But he now has no hands or feet; trying to flip pages with just a serpent body is pure fantasy.

Because of blood and stamina loss, Ye Qin's whole body felt icy cold—perhaps also because serpents are cold‑blooded.

He swirled around the bones into a ball, as if that would let him draw warmth; from a distance he looked like a piece of fossil.

Ye Qin felt drowsy, his consciousness as if sunk into a mire, no matter how he struggled he could not break free; he desperately told himself not to sleep.

If he slept now, he feared it would be forever.

Yet the feeling of weakness and pain throughout his body seemed to be dragging him bit by bit into the abyss.

A cool wind blew from somewhere, giving Ye Qin a moment of clarity; at this moment his eyes had narrowed to a slit, and he could barely keep from passing out.

From not far away came a rustling sound; the originally closed book had somehow been blown open by the wind.

It seemed as if a pair of invisible hands in the air were slowly turning the gears of fate.

(End of chapter)