A thrilling moment

An hour later, after eating and drinking his fill, Bai Chuan grabbed a large clump of fresh, bloody flesh and set off on his return journey.

He'd been out for an hour now—that little mouse was probably starving by now.

Bai Chuan couldn't help but feel a bit amused thinking about that clever yet timid little thing.

Over the past few days, ever since he'd taken the little creature into the water, it had been so scared it trembled, clutching its little paws, thinking he meant to harm it.

Only after gradually interacting and realizing he had no such intention did it slowly begin to relax.

Even so, whenever his emotions fluctuated strongly—especially in a negative direction—the little thing would startle and shrink back in panic.

It seemed able to sense the quality and intensity of his emotions when they were particularly strong, which was rather remarkable.

At first, he hadn't noticed this. But then one time, the little thing accidentally spilled a few drops of urine on his scales, souring his mood so much he nearly wanted to throw it away.

Fortunately, his rational mind prevailed—he still needed it for scanning the Ice Silkworm—so he held back.

Unexpectedly, it seemed to have sensed this, and from then on, it never happened again.

Whenever it needed to relieve itself, it would wait until he went hunting or started eating, then go ashore and handle it on its own.

At first, he wondered if the mouse had lost its mind, grabbing its little wooden box as if to flee, nearly making him lunge to catch it.

But after watching carefully, he realized it was sneaking off to do its business!

He had to admit, this little thing—whether from living with humans too long or through special training—was rather good at winning favor.

Unfortunately, none of this seemed to count as an ability, just like his Current Detection—special, but not displayed on the panel.

Thinking back on these past few days, Bai Chuan smiled to himself, narrowing his sharp snake eyes. He glanced down at the large chunk of fresh meat clamped in his jaws—enough to last the little thing several days, surely.

Before long, Bai Chuan returned to the spot where he'd first entered the water. He lowered his head and transferred the crocodile meat from his mouth to his claws.

Then, with a pull of his powerful muscles, his belly scales pushed back in neat rows, and his entire snake body glided smoothly toward the tree hollow.

Just as Bai Chuan was happily returning with his bounty, he suddenly froze, his slithering body coming to a halt—something felt off.

His slender forked tongue flicked out, rapidly whipping up and down to capture scent molecules in the air.

Yes, the surrounding scent seemed fainter. The smell of that little mouse had weakened significantly.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. His body exploded forward toward the tree hollow, his sharp eyes scanning every corner as he moved.

Soon, he stopped again, his snake body curving and shooting off to the side.

Because he saw it!

He saw a reckless snake in the process of swallowing a mouse, its jaws stretched to an exaggerated angle over 90 degrees, inch by inch devouring its prey.

Of course, none of that was the point!

The point was that the prey was a mouse—his familiar mouse!

Right now, the little thing was in a miserable state, being swallowed inch by inch into the snake's mouth. Even its hind legs had already disappeared into the snake's gullet.

Yet its tiny paws still clung desperately to the small wooden box, occasionally letting out a faint squeak, proving it wasn't dead yet.

And thanks to that wooden box, the mouse hadn't been fully swallowed.

Even so, the box was creaking under the strain, seeming ready to burst open.

If the box broke, the mouse would die, and a violent wave of freezing cold would sweep through this place.

He had no time to wonder how this mouse—which had survived alone through the flood season until winter's end, even thriving in the wild when that Zhang Daring came looking for it—could have been caught by a mere snake.

Bai Chuan's snake eyes widened, filled with murderous intent.

How dare a mere little snake try to take what was his?

His body exploded with its fastest speed yet, shooting like an arrow straight to the snake's position in mere moments.

Then, rapid deceleration—slowing down!

By the time he fully arrived before the little snake, the momentum from his burst of speed had already dissipated.

Only the gust of wind, carrying the inevitable stench of Bai Chuan's recent meal, testified to how fast he'd been moving.

A shadow fell—a massive shadow—accompanied by a strong, fishy wind, arriving in an instant.

This startled the swallowing snake, its coiled body stiffening as it twisted its head around.

And in that twist, its snake eyes met the direction from which the wind had come.

In that moment, the little snake froze, because the owner of that shadow had barged so unreasonably into its black-and-white world.

A long, sleek, broad neck like a king's cloak, a raised, fierce snout with two unusually prominent bulges, and sharp eyes that looked down on it like a natural predator—now filled with murderous intent.

Even though its tongue couldn't taste the air while feeding, an instinct buried in its snake brain let it pick up the pheromones from its own kind.

This was the fury of a king among snakes—the snake-killer, the venomous serpent overlord known as Ten-Thousand Snake!

In a daze, even with its meager intelligence, the little snake's tiny brain understood the situation: it had offended the royal presence, and now faced a king's wrath.

Instinctively, it began trying to spit out its prey on the spot.

But its jerky, convulsive movements disgusted Bai Chuan—the sight was far too ugly.

He looked at the little mouse, which let out a faint squeak upon noticing his arrival, and sighed softly to himself.

It extended a sharp claw, lifting the little snake, then carefully raised one of its own claws—massive and razor-sharp in comparison—and gently inserted it into the side of the small creature's mouth.

With a single light pull, the claw sliced through it like a razor-sharp blade cutting through a sheet of paper, encountering no resistance at all as it split it from head to tail.

After that, Bai Chuan gently cradled the little thing. Its once fluffy fur was now soaked and matted, and with faint traces of blood seeping from its hind legs, it looked utterly bedraggled.

Now, freed from the weight pressing down on it, the little mouse seemed to catch its breath.

It blinked its small, black eyes groggily, its tiny paws trembling as it raised the small wooden box it had been clutching tightly to its chest, offering it to him with a fawning expression.

This was not the first time it had done this over the past few days.

In its shallow little mind, it vaguely remembered that ever since they started fleeing, every time they came ashore to eat, the small wooden box was always entrusted to it for safekeeping.

Whenever they finished their hasty meal, the Great Serpent would have it return the box to him, then take it back into the water to continue their escape.

Without a doubt, this object was immensely important to the Great Serpent. Even if it didn't understand why, doing this was the right thing.

Because this was the second being, after that monk, to show it kindness.

This time would be no exception.