Chapter 23: Ye Qin Takes Action

The pot bottom was already empty, only a few green vegetable leaves floated on the red oil; the meatballs were gone, and many empty liquor bottles lay overturned beside it.

They kept drinking, each taking turns to pour a cup for the other.

The scarred man belched, looking puzzled: "Speaking of which, Brother Li, why did you suddenly want to catch so many snakes this year? I remember the market for snakes isn't good this year."

As it turned out, the two had long since been engaged in poaching—not their first time.

Over the past few years, the number of wild animals killed by the two is countless—some skinned and tendons removed, some sent to restaurants; their hands are practically soaked in blood.

But snakes haven't been in demand lately; few people buy them, so they usually don't focus on them.

"I haven't heard of any buyer wanting such a large quantity of snakes—isn't that just wasting effort? Brother Li, why are you suddenly interested in snakes?"

Li Han picked up the bottle, took a big gulp, shook his head, and said:

"Nothing much—just ran into something earlier, so I wanted to catch a few more snakes. If we can't sell them, we can soak them in liquor for ourselves; that's not bad either."

The scarred man licked his lips: "Soaking them in liquor is indeed fine, but speaking of which, Brother Li, what did you encounter?"

Li Han narrowed his eyes: "Nothing much—just a snake that turned the tables on an eagle falcon."

The scarred man, lacking interest, said: "What's that? Although the eagle falcon is a natural enemy of snakes, such a reversal isn't rare—if you happen upon a highly venomous snake, one bite could fell not just an eagle falcon but even a tiger or lion."

"What if I mean a non‑venomous small snake?"

The scarred man gave a look as if to say, "What are you joking about?" and assumed Li Han had drunk too much.

"Impossible, Brother Li—you're not teasing me, are you? How could such a snake possibly have the ability to turn the tables?"

An adult eagle falcon's wings, beak, and talons are fully developed, easily posing a lethal threat to snakes.

For medium‑small snakes, encountering such a predator almost leaves no chance of survival.

Li Han recounted the strange incident he had witnessed that day in full detail.

"I originally wanted to shoot down that eagle falcon, but when I chased after it and looked, it was already dead; from the traces on the corpse, it was clearly caused by a snake, and I even found snake scales at the scene."

After saying that, Li Han produced a piece of charred scale, which he had actually kept all along.

The scarred man took it and examined it closely; the scale was tiny, clearly black, yet underneath it seemed to emit a greenish glow, giving a half‑black, half‑green impression.

This must be from a small snake; although it's somewhat special, it's not that rare.

The scarred man's expression grew more astonished: "Brother Li, you're definitely pulling my leg—how could such a tiny snake kill an eagle falcon? You must have drunk too much."

The scarred man didn't take it to heart; after drinking too much, a sudden urge to urinate struck him, and he rose from his chair.

"Brother Li, I'll go take care of a personal matter first; when I return, let's keep drinking until we're drunk."

At that moment, Li Han narrowed his eyes, watching the scarred man's desperate need to urinate, and couldn't help but scoff.

"Lazy folks have lots of urine and feces—don't go collapsing face‑first in the snow, or you'll never get up again."

It was just a joke, but he ended up hitting the nail on the head.

The scarred man, a bit drunk, staggered to the doorway.

Just moments ago, inside the room they had been gathered around a stove, eating hot pot, so the temperature was extremely high; now outside, wearing thin clothes on the mountain, the temperature was probably already several degrees below zero.

He undid his belt, a cold wind blasted him in the face, he couldn't help but shiver, and his muddled mind grew somewhat clear.

"Strange—why have those beasts gone silent?"

The scarred man couldn't help muttering to himself: normally those beasts howl all day long, like mournful wails, but now they've suddenly gone quiet, which is really unfamiliar.

He pulled up his pants; the urge to urinate vanished instantly, and he spoke with some tension: "Hope nothing's happened."

The night temperature was truly too low; the cold wind poured into his throat, feeling like a knife cutting.

After all, to them those living creatures are lumps of gold, representing the wealth god.

If something went wrong, it would mean several days of wasted labor, and the buyer might very well come tomorrow to collect the goods—absolutely no mishaps can be allowed.

The inside was pitch black, a dark room like a monster with its bloody maw wide open, waiting for him to walk straight into its trap.

The scarred man walked toward the wooden hut, as if step by step heading into hell; for some reason, he felt an inexplicable chill in his heart.

"If I'd known it would be this cold, I would have brought a coat when I came out."

"Bang——"

The scarred man pushed the door open; the door quickly swung shut, startling him, and he couldn't help but complain: "Tonight's wind is too strong—pretty scary."

That's how winter is: the north wind howls, especially on the mountain, its wailing sounds especially eerie.

The scarred man merely blamed the strong outside wind, failing to notice a snake tail dangling from the beam, which soon slipped into the darkness and vanished.

Because the room was pitch black, he could only grope forward; not knowing what he tripped over, the scarred man staggered, fell hard to the ground, and ended up with a bruised nose and swollen face.

"Damn it, who left a hemp rope in the middle of the room?"

The scarred man tried to fling the rope far away, but after feeling around he found nothing but empty space—not even the rope, let alone any obstacle—"It's like seeing a ghost."

The so‑called rope twitched; within the snake's pupil a human‑like smirk flickered, as it quietly watched the scarred man's actions.

He cursed as he got up, thinking he'd simply drunk too much and tripped over his own left foot.

But the scarred man clearly felt he had kicked something long and thin earlier, and he suppressed his unease.

"Forget it; better first find the switch."

The scarred man, having learned his lesson, was much more careful this time, feeling along the wall until he found the switch; yet pressing it left the room still pitch‑black, with no response.

Not far away on the floor, a light bulb lay still, but the scarred man didn't see it.

"Damn, must be another short circuit."

The scarred man was angry at himself for rushing out without a phone; otherwise he wouldn't be as helpless as a blind man, making everything inconvenient.

He came to the main door, tried to push it open, but only felt a cold, slick, slightly hard surface—like—snake scales!

The scarred man jerked his hand back as if shocked, his face showing horror: "What the hell is this?!"

For unknown things, people always feel immense fear; moreover, in the dark the senses are amplified manifold.

The scarred man couldn't help swallowing saliva, frantically wanting to flee the room; under overwhelming panic, the urine he had held back surged out, leaving a puddle of unclear yellow liquid on the floor.

The air gave off an indescribable foul odor.

Meanwhile, in the depths of darkness, a pair of snake pupils slowly lit up, filled with cold and bloodlust, as if a hellish emissary had descended.

(End of chapter)