Chapter 9: The field mouse tastes pretty good

The sky was terribly stuffy, like a huge steamer; many ants crawled out, and those little sparrows all flew very low.

Ants relocating, birds flying low.

Gazing at the sky above, a few dark clouds drifted from somewhere, Ye Qin pondered, 'Looks like it's going to rain.'

He ate a few wild fruits to stave off hunger, did not leave, but hid behind a stone.

The stone's colour was similar to his, also dark black; the two almost blended together, and without close inspection one would not notice there was a small black snake here.

The wild fruits on the ground were his best bait; herbivorous small animals would always come.

Ye Qin was extremely patient, like a qualified hunter; perhaps it was biological instinct, he remained completely still, like a stone.

Even his bright red tongue flicked only occasionally, used to discern any trace of prey.

As the sun set westward, with the sun gradually shifting, the whole sky was dyed orange light; layers of surging clouds blanketed this verdant hilltop, actually adding a special flavor.

He waited like that for half a day; during that time Ye Qin saw no trace of other small animals.

He was not discouraged; even if he returned empty-handed today, there was tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then the day after.

At worst he would go farther afield to try his luck; although it was somewhat dangerous, he would always find food.

Just as Ye Qin was preparing to return.

His pupils contracted sharply; from the nearby bushes came a faint rustling, and a gray fur could be vaguely seen, quite conspicuous against the verdant grass.

It was a gray field mouse; several whiskers probed the air, as if checking for danger around, then most of its body emerged.

The field mouse stood upright, its little nose twitching, then looked toward the wild fruit not far away.

Although its limbs were short, its speed was great; seeing no danger around, it relaxed.

Its forepaws shoved the wild fruit into its mouth, its two incisors soaked in the fruit's juice, then it gulped it whole; its cheeks instantly bulged.

While savoring the tasty field mouse, it did not notice the dark place; a pair of gloomy beast eyes were fixed on its every move.

Ye Qin approached cautiously, making no sound, as if merging with the surroundings; his pupils narrowed to pinpoint size, firmly locked on the field mouse's position.

His body straightened, coiling in readiness.

The field mouse seemed to sense something, its whiskers twitched, it stopped eating, but it was already too late.

In the blink of an eye, Ye Qin shot forth like an arrow from a bow, leaving only a fleeting afterimage in the air.

His body swiftly coiled around the field mouse.

"Squeak—squeak—squeak!"

The field mouse struggled desperately to break free, but the snake's body only grew tighter; soon its movements diminished and fell silent.

Only then did Ye Qin release his grip, looking at the field mouse's corpse with a satisfied expression; his first hunt was still quite successful.

This field mouse was rather small, its claws and teeth posed little danger; otherwise Ye Qin could not have succeeded so quickly.

Next came the time to enjoy the spoils.

Ye Qin had steeled himself mentally, yet even so, it was not easy to overcome that hurdle all at once.

Although he was now a snake, in his previous life he had been a human for several decades, rarely eating raw fish slices, let alone a field mouse.

He took a deep breath, suppressed his nausea, and slowly swallowed the field mouse.

He did not know whether it was due to a changed physiology or the snake's nature, but the field mouse was not as hard to swallow as imagined, mainly perhaps because there was no chewing.

In Lingnan folklore there is also the saying 'Eat one mouse, equals three chickens,' describing how the field mouse's nutritional value exceeds that of chicken meat; dried field mouse is not only tasty but also high in protein.

After eating that field mouse, Ye Qin finally felt full, contentedly lay on the grass to rest a moment, borrowing the last glimmer of sunlight before the sun fully set, and returned to the cave.

Probably because he had replenished his energy, today he dug the pit faster than usual and for a longer time; the earlier thumb‑wide hole, after Ye Qin's efforts, had become about the size of two fists.

At the same time, the scorched black scales on Ye Qin's tail had completely shed, new green serpent scales grew; he did not know if it was an illusion, but he felt his body seemed to have grown much longer.

While hunting today, Ye Qin discovered that after coiling only halfway, the field mouse was already completely wrapped.

After a hearty meal, Ye Qin returned home, continuing to stay in the cave; aside from the time spent hunting outdoors, he devoted most of his time to contemplation.

Apart from hibernation, snakes normally sleep very little, so Ye Qin could spend an entire day in contemplation and cultivation without issue.

He not only did not feel fatigued, but felt refreshed; most importantly, he could sense his strength continually increasing.

Now those gruesome, terrifying wounds have left only scars; all these changes came about through cultivation.

"Boom—!"

A muffled sound came from outside the cave, pulling Ye Qin's thoughts back to reality.

A thunderclap fell from mid‑air; the originally dark cave was illuminated by purple light.

"Thunder!"

Ye Qin could not help muttering to himself,

Hearing the rolling thunder outside, he felt somewhat uneasy, probably due to this snake body's influence; he especially disliked such thunderous weather, even to the point of loathing it.

After all, when he crossed over he had almost been killed by lightning; to this day his scars have not healed, and if not for his cultivation he would likely have become a wandering spirit—no wonder he reacts this way.

Hearing the incessant thunder, Ye Qin grew irritable, the tip of his tail incessantly jabbing the ground, yet he did not expect to strike a half‑rotted branch nearby.

The dead branch was several times thicker than him; only a 'crack—' was heard, and it snapped cleanly in two.

Ye Qin stared at his own tail in disbelief; apparently he had not used much force just then, he supposed the branch's interior had already rotted, as fragile as paper, and he did not think much of it.

Besides the thunder, there was a continual wailing wind that seeped into the cave.

Although Ye Qin had not gone out to see the scene outside, one could imagine that the wind was raging.

With such a mighty commotion, a violent rainstorm was surely approaching.

Ye Qin could not help feeling fortunate again for having found a good shelter from wind and rain; if he were now out in the wild, with his small frame he would probably be blown into the sky.

Besides natural enemies, animals must also guard against harsh weather and environment; this is nature's cruelty, a moment's carelessness and they will perish.

Having such a cave means at least a place of refuge; unless there is an earthquake, Ye Qin need not worry at all.

In the latter half of the night, the pattering rain sounds continued without cease, leaving Ye Qin unable to focus his mind, unable to enter contemplation; fortunately he coiled his body into a bundle and rested.

(End of chapter)