At dawn, a faint ray of red light shone from the main body of Meslamtaea, the Temple of Heat, across the entire underworld, slightly dispelling the subterranean chill.
On the cliff, a cold wind swept past. Beneath the red cloak, the ancient snake curled into a ball shuddered, crawled out, stretched out his head, and habitually surveyed his surroundings.
He had actually spent the entire night sleeping on the cliff with Ereshkigal?
And that owner of his, who constantly pushed back her waking hour, had unusually gone to Uruk to dig holes before daybreak.
By usual standards, that round trip would probably keep her busy all day.
It seemed that he had pushed her too hard last night, leaving Ereshkigal with even heavier worries.
The ancient snake stood atop the precipice and silently looked down at the Crystal Flower clusters carpeting the ground. He sighed softly, a trace of guilt rising in his heart.
Back in that former world, everyone needed to wear all kinds of masks—sometimes to deceive others, sometimes to deceive themselves.
And in this fantastical Age of Gods, where danger lurked everywhere and even survival was difficult, he needed even more masks and lies to conceal himself if he wanted to accomplish that grand goal.
Yet the ancient snake had always held to one principle.
Deception was merely a means, never the end.
If he failed to understand even that, then someday he would either die from the arrogance and conceit of manipulating living beings, or lose his humanity and become a demon willing to do anything to achieve his goals.
Therefore, whenever Lin Xian resorted to deception, he would often find a way to compensate for it from another angle.
That was, after doing something bad, he would seek to do something good as well, offsetting the two in form and easing his conscience.
Call him hypocritical if you liked, or call him boring.
But only this way could he avoid forgetting that he had once been human.
His tail lashed out and cracked sharply against Lin Xian's head, snapping him out of his musings and inexplicable emotions.
Alright, time was tight. He could not keep wasting time here.
The ancient snake launched himself from the cliff and slithered through the Crystal Flower field that had cost him more than half a year of effort.
Yet just as he was about to crawl out of the ravine, Lin Xian hesitantly looked back and swept up, with his tail, the clay tablet in the center labeled "Lord Ereshkigal and Samael's 200-Day Anniversary."
Then the snake's scales parted slightly as dense ether particles erupted forth, forming threadlike bands around his body and driving Lin Xian's speed to its limit, turning him into a streak of black lightning racing through the air.
Originally, he had wanted to stay with his owner for a few more days and give her a subtle farewell.
But he had been unable to resist trying to change the Underworld Goddess's resolve and position, and in doing so, his words had touched upon far too many secrets.
Since even his final effort had ended in failure, they could only follow their respective choices and see whose answer was more worth upholding.
Several dozen minutes later, the familiar Black Shadow sneaked furtively into the temple, curled his tail, and hooked a birdcage-like metal weave out of an unguarded compartment.
Seeing that this important tool was in hand, the ancient snake slowly breathed a sigh of relief.
Fortunately, within the underworld, his owner had no use for this thing at all, so it could only sit in its compartment gathering dust.
Moreover, as a tool snake, he had inevitably contained some ghosts while weaving the Spear Cage, so he had some understanding of how to operate it.
Otherwise, he truly would not have been confident in taking another comrade who had boarded this pirate ship away from the underworld.
After briefly steadying himself, the ancient snake carefully placed the commemorative clay tablet in the most conspicuous spot on the temple table.
Then, after a short pause, gray-black Death Qi clung to Lin Xian's body. He transformed into Black Shadow and silently slipped away.
Snakes were naturally creatures skilled at lurking and camouflage. Combined with Lin Xian's long residence in the underworld and familiarity with the terrain, he made his way to his treasure stash without incident.
The Black Shadow slithered along the cracks in the rocks and confirmed that the Cuneiform Runes at the entrance to the secluded valley, which provided concealment and warning, had not been damaged. Only then did he cautiously slip inside, crawl all the way to the deepest part, and lie down in relief amid gold and silver ornaments scattered across the ground and numerous clay tablets.
He looked like a dragon guarding its hoard.
Whew! Let's begin!
With time pressing, the ancient snake closed his eyes after only a brief rest. The consciousness in his mind began to resonate with the anchoring thread connected to Tiamat.
That strand of pure-black Authority of the Beast entwined around the anchoring thread was laboriously extracted bit by bit, then torn apart and crushed, absorbed into his soul.
Forcing this foreign object into his consciousness brought extraordinary pain and a swollen, strained sensation.
When the final fragment was fully absorbed by that humanoid soul, a solemn, majestic, ancient rhythm spread through the snake's entire body at the command of his consciousness.
At once, red-black blood mist surged and spread. Different parts of the ancient snake's body underwent drastically different changes—some swelled outward, while others contracted inward.
Meanwhile, his deforming, extending bones crackled continuously like popping beans, piercing and shifting through flesh to form the framework supporting another shell.
"Hiss! Hiss!"
As his body twisted and ground together grotesquely, scales peeled up one after another, spraying scarlet flesh and blood. Suppressed groans echoed through the cave.
Riiip!
No one knew how long had passed before, accompanied by the eerie sound of tearing cloth, a fair arm emerged from the red-black blood mist.
Then the red-black mist surged, and a handsome man stepped out unsteadily while bracing himself against the stone wall. He was completely naked, with tousled black hair draped over his shoulders; his facial features bore a Western three-dimensionality, his lines combining a touch of softness with mystery.
His newborn-like skin was fragile and marked with tender red traces, still stained with mucus and blood.
As the eyes in the darkness opened and closed, their peculiar snake-like vertical pupils shone ruby-red, both intoxicating and alarming.
His mysterious aura was like poison wrapped in honey—delicious and dangerous in equal measure.
At last, he had the chance to become human again.
The man murmured to himself. As he observed the world around him from a new height and perspective, he reached out to touch his face and body.
The joy of recovering what he had lost welled up naturally within him.
Fortunately, this time, his facial and bodily reshaping had followed the model outlined in his mind. The result had gone remarkably smoothly.
Still caught up in his excitement, the man had barely staggered forward when his left leg, still within the red-black mist, felt a tug tight against the flesh.
When he turned around, he saw that the thing faintly connected to his skin was a black Snake Molt.
It was time to bid farewell to the past.
The man grabbed the Snake Molt, bent down, and tore away his final connection to it. Supporting himself against the stone wall, he staggered about as he relearned how to walk, hoping to quickly awaken the instinct to control a human body once more.
As his cold body gradually warmed, the newly activated neural circuits coordinated his flesh, bones, and blood, successively bringing them into harmony with his entire body.
While becoming familiar with his body, the man glanced at the faintly flickering mark on the Snake Molt, his thoughts drifting.
This reconstruction differed from using magical power to temporarily alter his bodily structure. This was a genuine transformation, inside and out.
Even the mark Ereshkigal had left on his snake skin to protect him had been completely discarded during this metamorphosis.
Therefore, even if his former owner stood before him, it would be difficult for her to guess who he had once been.
And the reason he had severed everything so cleanly and completely was simply that he had no choice.
That snake side of him was connected to far too many dark secrets. If they were discovered, he would inevitably end up in a pot.
Hiding that past was also an indirect form of protection for those close to him.
Of course, if Ereshkigal saw what he looked like now, she would immediately set a pot of water to boil and stew him thoroughly in shame and fury.
That was why he had not dared to reconstruct a human body before leaving the underworld.
As the unfamiliarity of his body gradually faded, the man changed into the clothes he had prepared beforehand and packed most of his treasures into a bundle.
Anything he truly could not take with him could only be destroyed on the spot.
Before departing, the man cut open his palm and let several drops of blood fall onto the Snake Molt, leaving behind his scent so that his owner would not notice anything too soon.
The pervasive gray Death Qi became exceptionally docile and harmonious upon touching him, completely concealing the aura of a living being from the surface.
Once everything was ready, the man removed the Cuneiform Runes' concealment, stepped out of the cave entrance, and began walking toward the valley.
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