Zhongshan Shenzhu Chi

Chapter 74 The Sun

Before long, the giant snake had slithered to the front of the valley.

That year, after the rain following the Awakening of Insects, every time it saw its mother, an indescribable heaviness weighed on its heart.

It felt like the lingering dampness of the plum rain season.

The mother's body was being visibly devoured by the black stone.

At first, only half of its body was covered by the black stone, like a layer of cold armor. Later, the black stone moved up its spine, devouring flesh and scales.

Most recently, her entire body had merged with Zhongshan, with only one eye still able to move slightly.

Only this eye is proof that she is still alive.

Standing at the mouth of the valley, the snake's tongue flickered in and out.

You can't smell anything except the damp smell of soil and weeds after a fresh rain in the mountains.

The giant snake stood at the valley entrance for several breaths before swimming into the valley.

The valley was eerily silent. All living beings held their breath and lowered their steps, as if afraid to disturb the beings that were about to slumber in the valley.

Upon finding its former location, the giant snake raised its head.

Before me, the rocks, wet with rain, were grayish-black, standing silently through wind and rain.

a long time.

The cliff face rumbled, and a section of it slowly rose, revealing a pupil.

In the past, what pierced my pupils were only rocks that looked like thorns.

Now, those burrs have grown veins, one after another, like chains locking the vertical pupil in place, making it unable to move.

"Is it a candle?" The serpent god's pupils were no longer moving.

She couldn't see the large snake below her eyes, and could only cautiously ask questions based on her remaining senses.

"Mother, it's me."

The giant serpent slithered back, stopping where the serpent god's gaze could reach.

"I'm getting old."

The serpent god's voice was very soft.

"I can't sense your presence anymore—"

The most common words, the simplest meaning.

But she seemed to be sculpting a work of art, painstakingly sending out each word, one by one, from her body.

The giant snake waited in silence.

"You'd be much better as the God of Zhongshan than I am."

"Mother, I want to see the sun one more time," Huai Nian said stiffly, her voice trembling.

"Hmm." Without asking why, the snake god responded.

The vertical pupils slowly contracted until they became extremely thin, like an embroidery needle.

The earth shattered.

The connection between the rocks collapsed.

A rock formation resembling scales rose up, revealing the deep passage through which the red serpent had once traversed.

The red snake lowered its head and slithered into it.

The golden and silver eyes illuminated the way forward, as they walked step by step across the ground, which was no longer smooth and had become as rough as the rocks outside.

The scales rubbed against the ground, producing a long, hoarse sound that seemed to travel very far.

Like a new bow being dragged across the already decaying strings of an erhu.

A mournful tone, accompanying the great serpent, stretches forward.

It reached the mother's chest.

The scorching wind of the great sun blows in my face.

It turned its head and looked at the heart covered by the black stone, where countless bright red marks were crisscrossing.

The newly formed black stone was melted instantly before it could solidify.

Lava dripped down those red streaks, one drop, two drops, three drops—falling onto the ground and piling up to form a tiny volcano that spread outwards.

The red serpent moved forward, and the great sun suddenly unleashed its power.

It was more intense than ever before.

But it is no longer the same snake that used to be so frightened by the mere sight of him that it would become paralyzed and unable to move.

Three years have passed, and the sun is still the same sun.

The crimson serpent, its body covered in tightly bound crimson scales, radiated a temperature no less intense than the wind of the great sun, swimming in the lava as if it were floating in the Luo River.

"Having spent three hundred years with your mother, you must have developed a spiritual nature." The giant serpent coiled up a foot away from the sun. "Let's make a deal."

"You are not the real sun hanging in the sky. Rising in the east and setting in the west is merely your path to self-destruction."

"A young golden crow was born on Zhongshan Mountain. If you don't want to die, you can join it on a mythical journey where the golden crow sets in the west and rises in the east."

"That way you can survive."

Upon hearing this, the scorching heat that had been constantly agitating under the sun paused.

There seemed to be a moment of hesitation.

But in the next instant, an even wilder and more violent heat erupted.

Space was distorted by the scorching heat, surging like ripples on the surface of water. In the distance, the cooled lava was reignited and melted.

The extreme heat was trying to take the giant snake's life.

But one after another, crimson scales formed from the blood of the giant snake lay across the way, like an insurmountable city wall.

The scorching wind, hot enough to bake the earth dry and melt metal, was cleaved in two by the giant serpent.

The sun's rage lasted for a full quarter of an hour.

The mysterious stone encasing the heart melted, dripping down with a rushing sound. The lava gathered into a stream, flowing towards the red serpent.

The refusal was quite obvious.

The giant snake remained stationary, repeatedly tapping the slowly flowing lava with the tip of its tail.

After it grows horns, it can sense things that exist in the world, yet are mysterious and elusive.

The sun was so intense that before any intelligence could be born, it was crushed by the heat, rendering the body completely unable to respond to anything other than instinct.

His instinct is to rise in the east and set in the west.

Sensing a chaotic yet distinct instinct, the giant snake remained silent.

Three hundred years is enough time to heal all the wounds caused by drought.

If it were the same as it is now back then—

"Go back." The giant snake shook its head and turned to leave.

Re-entering that secluded passageway, the golden and silver light fell on the raised ribs on the stone wall.

It moves forward, counting each one one by one.

The stone wall in front of them struggled to open, and the giant snake slithered out.

"A-Nian, do you think I did something wrong?" the snake god said softly.

"Mother, the double suns in the sky is a disaster that Yongning Continent is bound to suffer."

"When faced with disaster, every living being will have its own choice, but no matter what choice it is, the starting point is the same: to save lives."

"Essentially, there is no right or wrong choice, either way."

The giant serpent retreated, exposing its body to the serpent god's gaze.

I raised my head and met her gaze.

"You are right to take responsibility for your actions."

"The current Zhongshan God is me—I will completely resolve the issue of that sun."

The serpent god's pupils dilated for a moment, as if looking back at its younger self, or perhaps feeling gratified for what it had become.

After a long silence, she finally spoke, her voice hoarse: "There's something I've been keeping from you, and now it seems the time is right."

"What is it?" the giant snake asked softly.

The serpent god did not answer.

She used the last of her strength to move her body, which had become one with Zhongshan Mountain.

The valley trembled, the rock walls cracked, and boulders tumbled down as if making way for something ancient.

Before the red serpent, a stone pillar arched up from the ground.

On it stood a red scale, about the size of a human hand.

"These are the scales that were born with you."

The serpent god's voice was low and slow, yet as heavy as a mountain.

"It's quite a coincidence—only this scale is the exact same color as the scales on your body right now."

The red serpent remained silent.

It slowly flicked its tongue.

It has a smell—but it's not really a smell.

It has a distant charm.

It is the smell of history that has been buried and reopened, a mixture of dust and weathered rock fragments.

It's as if all of time in this world will eventually converge on this scale.