Chapter 15: Bandits and the Monster Snake

In the jianghu, people can smell each other from miles away.

This was a proverb, meaning that among those of the jianghu, their tricks and deceptions might fool outsiders, but never fellow travelers.

But for Li Yan, this scent was literally detectable.

After that night, his sense of smell grew keener.

These men galloped along the official road, still a hundred meters away, yet their thick stench of blood could not escape Li Yan’s nose.

It was the smell of human blood!

Worse still, it carried the reek of corpses.

Fortunately, Li Yan could tell these odors were real, unlike the strange scents of the Changbing or the Earth God temple.

He could see that Sha Li-fei, the old jianghu hand, was instantly alert—he rose to his feet and whispered to those around him: “Something’s off, stay careful…”

Then he quickly stood, adopting a stance—feet neither fully aligned nor fully apart, elbows slightly bent, palms just three inches from his saber’s hilt.

This was a swordsman’s defensive posture.

Facing unfamiliar jianghu peers, it avoided drawing the blade to prevent misunderstanding, yet allowed the first strike to be drawn instantly, seizing the upper hand.

Li Yan’s swift saber technique came from the same school as Sha Li-fei’s—he recognized it at once.

Worse still, he could tell the old fox had his center of gravity shifted backward, clearly ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

Grain harvesters hired swordsmen not just to secure work, but for safety—Guanzhong’s folk were fierce, and bandits never lacked.

But Sha Li-fei clearly had no such courage.

The grain harvesters around him grew tense, gripping their sickles tightly.

Some had trained in martial arts; the rest, though unskilled in sickle techniques, had handled farm tools for years and could wield them deadly well in desperation.

Added to their numerical advantage, they stood their ground, not turning to flee.

The hoofbeats drew near; the riders halted, lifting their heads to study them.

Beneath their wide-brimmed hats were faces weathered by wind and sun, each grim, eyes either mocking or brimming with contempt.

Li Yan now knew for certain: these men were bandits.

No matter their attire or weapons, each wore a loose black cloth strip around their necks.

That was the bandit’s mark—pull it up, and it covered their faces when they struck.

Yet even bandits had rules.

To parade openly in broad daylight—were these fools insane?

At that moment, Sha Li-fei forced himself forward, laughed loudly, and bowed with clasped fists: “Mountains have the Five Peaks, rivers have the Five Lakes; the northwest has its own blade. You look unfamiliar—where are you from?”

This was jianghu code—others heard only nonsense, but Li Yan understood.

“Mountains have the Five Peaks, rivers have the Five Lakes” referred to the Four Directions of Shenzhou.

Sha Li-fei sensed these men were strangers, not from Guanzhong, and subtly asserted his own jianghu identity to unsettle them.

After all, there’s a saying: strong dragons don’t overpower local snakes.

Sha Li-fei wasn’t even a dragon—he couldn’t claim to be a snake either.

But in the jianghu, you bluff first, then see if it works.

Usually, after Sha Li-fei asked, the others would reply, naming their mountain, river, or patron deity.

This was called “pan dao”—mutually probing each other’s background to avoid misunderstandings.

But the strangers gave no reply.

A few even toyed with their blades, eyes hostile.

Then the leader barked: “Move on. These are just poor peasants—don’t waste time.”

His accent was utterly unlike Guanzhong’s.

Qilu bandits!

Li Yan’s heart lurched—he instantly recognized them.

The green woods held many notorious gangs: Guandong lianzi, Guanzhong saber bandits, Central Plains gangsters, Qilu bandits, Taihu water pirates.

All were outlaw clans who kidnapped, extorted, and plundered.

Usually, each had its own territory, rarely crossing borders.

For them to come so boldly here must mean something strange.

Sha Li-fei saw it too—his legs trembled.

Fortunately, at the leader’s command, the bandits rode on without pause, vanishing in a cloud of dust.

After a short wait, Sha Li-fei suddenly stepped forward, drew his saber with a clang, and pointed at the distance, cursing: “Ignorant bastards who don’t know the rules! If I weren’t leading these villagers, I’d teach you a lesson today!”

Li Yan was speechless, rolling his eyes.

They’re gone—what good is shouting now?

The grain harvesters rushed over, pulling and pleading.

“Master Sha, calm down…”

“Yes, don’t bring them back!”

Sha Li-fei still glared, sheathed his blade, and grumbled: “A bunch of bandits? I, Sha Li-fei, don’t fear them! If not for fearing you’d get hurt… hmph!”

An old man, still shaken, said: “This year’s been uneasy—shouldn’t we hurry on?”

“Hurry where?!”

Sha Li-fei glared. “They just left—might be heading to a fight ahead. You want to rush to your death? Wait a bit, avoid them.”

Li Yan nodded inwardly.

The man was a coward, but his jianghu experience was undeniable.

The grain harvesters all nodded in agreement—they were here to earn money, and no matter who these people were, they avoided trouble.

Yet soon after, Li Yan sprang up like a leaping carp, drew his saber with a clang, and stared tensely into the distance.

“What now?”

Sha Li-fei startled, rushing over.

Li Yan gripped Guanshan Dao tightly, voice low: “Something’s coming!”

He didn’t mean people.

Shortly after the bandits left, he smelled another scent—cold, icy, thick with fishy stench—far stronger than “Xia Laosan’s.”

Li Yan’s skin crawled—had his spiritual root awakened, and now something was tracking him again?

What powerful thing dared appear at high noon…

Sha Li-fei also jumped, drawing both sabers and scanning left and right—but the land was flat, no figures, no hoofbeats. He doubted: “Are you hallucinating? Where’s anyone?”

“What’s that!”

Before he finished speaking, Hei Dan pointed left in alarm.

All looked up—the wheat field to the left rippled violently, parting as if something huge raced through it.

And its size was unmistakably massive.

As they stared, a giant snake, as thick as a sea bowl, slowly lifted its head from the wheat, hissing, scales glittering in the sunlight.

Stranger still, its head bore something like a rooster’s comb.

!.

“Cockcomb Snake!”

Many harvesters turned pale with terror.

Folk tales claimed: the cockcomb snake, with a rooster’s crest on its head, kills anyone it bites.

This snake is yin and evil, fond of burrowing into tombs and ancient graves—old folks’ stories often told of grave robbers who met their doom upon encountering it.

More crucially, it was said to be a demon snake with spiritual cultivation.

Li Yan’s skin prickled—he felt it more acutely than others; the cockcomb snake radiated a cold, fishy stench stronger than the incense of the Earth God temple.

And that icy gaze seemed fixed on him.

Li Yan reached for the red cloth bundle holding the Three Talismans Demon-Suppressing Coin tassel.

Good—it had a physical body; perhaps with this treasure he could slay it.

But would killing it turn it into some cursed thing that clung to him…

“Don’t move!”

At that moment, Sha Li-fei barked, eyes locked ahead, voice trembling: “I’ve heard that snakes with spiritual cultivation measure their opponents.”

“If you’re taller than it, it’ll die of fright.”

“Quick—stack yourselves!”

Many had heard this legend.

Even storytellers referenced ancient texts: “A snake with cultivation loves to compete in height with humans. If it wins, it bites; if it loses, it dies—but it must see its opponent face-to-face, never ambush. Those who see it on mountain paths should thrust an umbrella upward—it will lose and die.”

Whether true or not, they had no choice but to obey.

They weren’t fools—they’d seen how fast the cockcomb snake moved. Escape was impossible.

Quickly, the harvesters stacked themselves.

A childhood game they knew well: the strong stood below, the leaner climbed onto their shoulders.

They weren’t as skilled as jianghu performers, but in moments, they formed three layers.

To their relief, the cockcomb snake merely stared from afar, hesitating, not advancing.

“It worked! I told you it would!”

Sha Li-fei, strong and sturdy, bore two men on his back, grinning triumphantly.

Yet his face quickly froze.

The rooster-headed snake suddenly raised its head, its upper body straightening, growing taller and taller until it surpassed their human pyramid.

“Hurry, more people on top!”

“Who… who the hell just shat themselves!”

The crowd panicked; Li Yan leapt forward, stepping onto the nearby locust tree, and sprang to the very top of the human wall, sword in hand.

For this unknown thing, he could only trust Sha Li-fei’s method.

But for some reason, he strangely felt the snake was mocking them.

At that moment, the rooster-headed snake suddenly twisted its neck, as if listening to something, then slithered into the wheat field—like a gust of wind—vanishing in an instant.

The wind stirred the wheat waves; in the distance, a faint flute wailed…

The crowd finally exhaled in relief, each of them trembling with fear.

One old wheat worker couldn’t help cursing: “What’s going on this year? Bandits and strange snakes—did we step on the Year God?”

Li Yan stared into the distance, lost in thought.

He had a feeling: the rooster-headed snake’s target had been those bandits.

After this series of shocks, the group was clearly shaken and disoriented.

Seeing their morale crumbling, Sha Li-fei launched into another round of boasts and chest-thumping, reassembling the group before continuing onward.

Their original plan had been to take a remote mountain path as a shortcut.

But under these circumstances, Sha Li-fei himself was spooked, so he led them onto the main road—inevitably adding a full day to their journey.

Fortunately, no further strange events occurred along the way.

Sha Li-fei was an old hand; he naturally asked at tea stalls and of passersby about the bandits’ whereabouts. Thankfully, the bandits had not appeared again after turning off the main road.

Thus, after several days, they finally saw Xianyang City.

They did not enter the city; instead, under Sha Li-fei’s guidance, they headed toward a nearby village.

Sha Li-fei then boasted proudly: “The family we’re going to this year is incredibly generous—wages higher than any other, and more land too.”

“If it weren’t for me, Sha Li-fei, you’d never have had this chance…”

Li Yan, however, was distracted, glancing left and right.

Sha Li-fei had promised that after settling the wheat workers, he would take him to Xianyang City to meet Wang Daoxuan.

He didn’t know if the man truly had skill—or if he’d even be willing to take him on as a disciple…

(End of Chapter)