Chapter 280: Third Night: Snake Voice

How is this possible?

I had long been prepared for the evil nature of cockscomb snakes, but no matter how smart they are, it's impossible for them to speak human language. Yet that voice just now was extremely clear; I absolutely couldn't have misheard it—

Immediately I felt that I must have been hallucinating; this was absolutely impossible. Clearly my nerves were too tense, causing a disorder. I gritted my teeth and continued diving downward.

That snake looked down at me from above, watching me sink. Suddenly it twisted its neck, as if sizing me up, then abruptly leaned down, hanging right in front of my face. Its cockscomb quivered, and it uttered another sound: "Little Third Master?"

This time it was even clearer, and that gesture was too much like a person talking to me. My cold sweat kept pouring out, and I didn't dare move an inch. I thought to myself: Damn it, this time I've really run into a snake spirit; it really is a snake talking!

My mind was almost completely chaotic; countless thoughts surged up in a second. Was this a divine snake? A snake that had passed the human language level six and graduated from graduate school? Was this cockscomb snake really possessing human nature, or was it simply a snake that already had thoughts? In that instant, I suddenly remembered we were now in the territory of the Queen Mother of the West. Damn! In ancient times, this place was a fairyland... it's not surprising for snakes to talk.

That snake watched the changes in my expression, probably also very interested. It turned its head again, shook its cockscomb, and said: "Little Third Master?"

This time I was mentally prepared, so I heard it more clearly than the previous two times. I suddenly realized something was wrong. Eh, why did this snake speak with a Changsha accent? Could it be that this was a cockscomb snake originally from Changsha, coming to the Queen Mother's kingdom to support western construction?

In that flash, a very absurd thought crossed my mind. I suddenly wanted to ask it: "Did Hunan TV send you?" But then a flash of insight hit me, cold sweat poured out, and I gradually realized what was going on.

If this snake truly had extraordinary intelligence, what it should be speaking would be the language of the Queen Mother's kingdom at that time. But what this snake was saying now was actually Mandarin, and with a Changsha accent. That was obviously too unusual. Mandarin only began to be promoted in the 1950s, and the Changsha-flavored Mandarin was used by people born in the 1970s. This is completely modern. Even if this snake had superhuman intelligence, it shouldn't be able to speak with this accent.

Then there was only one possibility: if it wasn't "speaking," then it must be "mimicking speech." This snake, just like a parrot, was imitating human speech!

I immediately calmed down. It must be like this. Thinking about the sound I had heard all along, it was only calling out "Little Third Master," not a single other phrase, and even the tone was the same. Clearly this was not conscious behavior. This Mandarin with a Changsha accent was exactly Panzi's accent. Panzi liked to call me "Little Third Master, Little Third Master" repeatedly; that phrase was what he repeated most often. This snake must have been following us all along, and so it learned it.

However, parrots learn to talk through human training, but this snake learning our speech was very strange. Clearly this wasn't just for fun; it must have a reason for learning this sound.

Thinking of this, my cold sweat poured out. Calming down, I thought of rattlesnakes. Rattlesnakes attract prey by imitating the sound of flowing water. Could this snake's speech be for the same purpose? On reflection, wasn't I the one attracted by it? Damn it, this time I actually fell for a snake's trick—how utterly humiliating.

That snake scrutinized me, its blood-red triangular snake head almost a palm's distance from my nose. I could even smell a pungent, fishy odor from its body. These thoughts flashed through my mind, and I couldn't continue thinking. I muttered to myself: no matter what, there is still a highly venomous snake in front of me.

I slowly leaned back, trying to get as far away as possible, at least far enough to have a chance to dodge its attack, and then find a way to dive into the water.

However, as soon as I moved a little, the snake abruptly moved a bit closer, staring fixedly at my eyes, as if aware of my intention. Each time I retreated a bit, it got a little closer, but it didn't attack me—it just kept a palm's distance away. That lowered snake head made my whole body stiff, and I dared not make any big moves.

I found it very strange. It seemed to just want to control me, yet this behavior itself was very bizarre, because snakes are reptiles; all their actions should be conditioned reflexes. It had no meaning in doing this. What did it want?

Just as I was puzzled and at a loss, I suddenly felt something touch my ankle, as if something had swum up from the bottom of the water.