Song of Everlasting Regret - Chapter 28

Starting is always the hardest part. Although she had a foundation, her acupoints were sealed and she suffered from internal injuries; practicing Shen Zhongyin’s technique was no easy feat.

It was like damp flint; no matter how hard she struck, not a spark would fly.

The aura of death brushed against her like a layer of thin gauze, drifting near and far, as if one moment of carelessness would allow it to envelop her, dragging her down into an endless hell.

Her will to survive burned fiercely, allowing her to ignore the cold and the pain.

A surge of heat, curled tightly within her dantian, suddenly struck like a bolt of lightning, tearing through the dark paths and circulating through her meridians.

The sensation was like a sharp silver needle impacting the interior of tiny, fragile channels, crudely piercing a gap through the frozen meridians.

This internal pain was untouchable and unreachable—sharp and piercing, sour and scorching.

Lou Jing hovered between life and death, yet she did not dare to stop for a second. She pressed on with a single breath, fearing that if she paused, the qi would fail, and her body would succumb to the erosion of the venom, leading to her true death.

As the heat circulated longer, her body felt as if it were submerged in ice one moment and buried in fire the next. A sense of suffocation pressed down like the collapsing sky, and the flesh on her chest felt as if it were being torn apart.

Even in her weakened state, the pain forced her to bite her lips until they were a bloody pulp; sounds that were half-crying, half-moaning overflowed from her nose and teeth.

After an agonizing “small cycle” of circulation, she finally forced open her acupoints. Her body gradually regained warmth, showing signs of life. She did not know if it was her own internal power or Shen Zhongyin’s technique that suppressed the snake venom—the venom remained like bone-chilling needles torturing her nerves, but at least she could breathe smoothly.

Lou Jing rolled herself over. Opening her eyes again, she felt as if a lifetime had passed.

This body of hers was like a withered skeleton crawling out from beneath the earth.

She did not know how many days had passed since her fall. Hunger and thirst oppressed her. Not only was she exhausted, but even if she had the strength, this sealed pit contained only stones, vipers, and bleached bones—where was she to find food and water?

She pressed her forehead against the ground, finding the cold, hard, damp rock surface as soft and comfortable as a warm bed. As soon as she closed her eyes, sleepiness surged, her consciousness plummeted, and she couldn’t help but want to drift off.

A moment later, she snapped her eyes open again. In the darkness, they were like two cold stars.

She couldn’t sleep yet.

She struggled with her hands, trying to free them from the rope. After a while, her hands grew wet and sticky, and they felt somewhat numb. Perhaps because she had lost so much weight recently, half of her hand had already slipped through. With a surge of force, her right hand broke free.

At the very instant she got her hand out, a viper flew from the side, sinking its fangs into her wrist.

They say the human heart is never satisfied, like a snake trying to swallow an elephant.

This snake, too, was ungrateful. Its fangs hooked into her flesh, and its body greedily coiled around her wrist. This reptile, whose head was not even as thick as her forearm, intended to swallow her whole.

She pulled it close to look and realized the skin on both wrists had been rubbed raw by the rope, leaving them blood-drenched. Because the pain throughout her body was so intense, she had been numb to the injury on her wrists and hadn’t felt it in time.

Having endured this catastrophe, her temperament grew even darker. She grabbed the snake’s head and said, “I never harmed you, so why do you bite me!”

Her voice was coarse and raspy.

She saw the viper coiling tighter and suddenly understood: the snake was attracted by the smell of blood on her hands. This was its eating instinct—survival of the fittest, nature’s way.

She was powerless, like meat on a chopping block, and now even this cold-blooded reptile could bully her.

Seeing the snake bite her so happily made her feel her own hunger and thirst even more keenly. Her stomach and throat felt like they were on fire—a searing, hot pain. Her lips were cracked and peeling. Seeing her own blood-stained hand, she couldn’t help but swallow. Her mouth was dry, yet there wasn’t even enough spit to swallow.

The light in her eyes as she stared at the viper’s body grew brighter and brighter.

Suddenly, she opened her mouth and bit down on the viper. The snake struggled in pain, and she mimicked its fangs, sinking her teeth deep into the snake’s body. With a violent tear, she ripped a piece of flesh from it and chewed it in her mouth.

Raw snake meat and blood had an unspeakable taste and were even harder to swallow, but she chewed a few times and forced them down.

That bit of snake meat and blood hit her stomach, seemingly adding a sliver of strength to her.

Eating snake flesh, drinking snake blood.

She devoured that viper alive.

Only the skeleton and internal organs remained on the ground. The blood on her hands was a mix of her own and the snake’s. She held the snake’s gall; it hung there, only the size of her pinky fingertip.

The light in her eyes was like fire.

The delicate flower had withered and decayed, crushed into the dust, but the seed had sprouted. What grew back was wild grass—lowly, yet the most resilient thing in this world.

She opened her mouth, put the snake gall inside, and bit it open. The bile burst out, splashing her mouth—bitter, foul-smelling, and beyond anything else in the world.

Even after days of hunger, she was choked by the taste, coughing and gagging, unable to swallow easily.

She coughed for a long time until tears came to her eyes, yet she still swallowed the bile.

She looked up and let out a laugh. “You want me dead, but I choose to live.”

After recovering a bit of strength, she was able to sit up. Sitting cross-legged, she sank her qi to her dantian, thumbs touching, and continued to practice Shen Zhongyin’s technique to ward off the internal chill.

When hungry, she ate raw snake meat; when thirsty, she drank raw snake blood.

That internal energy was like a chisel and axe carving a path through her meridians. It was still unbearably painful; no one had ever practiced internal energy as if they had been thrown into the fires of hell and fished out again.

Every time she completed a cycle, her cold sweat soaked through her clothes.

After an unknown amount of time, she was able to walk freely.

She scouted the geography of the pit thoroughly. The cavern was spacious and sealed, the rock walls thick and solid—likely deep within the mountain. There was only one exit, sealed by a heavy iron door and covered with chains. Even if she recovered her body and used light-body techniques to fly up, her internal energy was not enough to shatter that iron door.

Thus, if she wanted to get out, she had to wait for an opportunity.

How long she would have to wait, she did not know.

She only knew that day after day, she dwelled in this dark, damp cavern. Her only companions were the vipers of this pit.

Sometimes the cave was so quiet it drove her mad, so she would attack the snakes just to hear them make a sound.

She used to dislike noisy places, but now she missed them desperately—she wanted to be among a boisterous crowd.

Over time, practicing grew monotonous, so she would stare at the wall in a daze.

Deep within the cavern, there was a section of wall that was slightly drier. There was no light here, and the sun and moon were invisible. Naturally, she did not know the change of day and night or the passage of time. So, after every session of internal practice and completing a cycle, she would cut her finger and rub her fingertip against the rock.

Using blood, she drew horizontal lines to keep track of the days.

She repeated this over and over, not knowing when it would end.

It was exactly as Lou Xuanzhi had feared.

Lou Jing was trapped in the snake pit, enduring this inhuman suffering, and no one but the Caoliu Mountain Manor knew.

Yu Jingqiu, who was wholly dedicated to clearing Lou Jing’s name, was also unaware.

Yu Jingqiu, Lang Ye, and the disciples escorting them had left Tiger Roar Mountain and were heading toward the Celestial Star Palace.

The group of four traveled for a day. As night fell, there wasn’t a single house in the wilderness.

They thought they would have to sleep in the open and were about to stop to rest when Lang Ye’s horse surged forward a couple of steps. Lang Ye, being sharp-eyed, spotted a light ahead.

Where there is light, there are people.

The four remounted and rode closer to find an old two-story building, brightly lit. It was an inn.

Hearing the neighing of horses, a waiter ran out.

The waiter was lean and nimble. Tossing a rag over his shoulder, he saw the four and acted very cleverly, smiling as he came to take their horses. “Are the four guests staying the night? Please, come inside. Leave the horses to me; I’ll make sure their bellies are full.”

Once the four entered the inn, another waiter immediately greeted them.

This waiter was sturdier than the first. He stepped up and said, “The night is deep and the dew is heavy. Have a cup of hot tea, guests.”

Yu Jingqiu scanned the surroundings. She saw many saber and sword marks on the tables, chairs, beams, and walls—some old, some new. Furthermore, the entire inn emitted a heavy, somber fragrance that was so intense it was uncomfortable. She couldn’t help but frown.

The waiter followed her gaze and smiled. “Within ten miles, this is the only inn. Many people from the martial world pass through. Those masters have tempers; one wrong word and they draw their blades, smashing bowls and chopping tables—they’ve nearly lifted the roof off our inn before.”

Lang Ye said, “Arrange four guest rooms for us first, and prepare some food to be sent to the rooms.”

“I’ll carry your packs, guests.” The waiter reached out respectfully.

Lang Ye said, “No need.”

“Very well then, this way upstairs.”

The waiter led the four upstairs and arranged the rooms. Once they were inside, he swung over the railing and jumped down from the stairs, nimble as a monkey. He ran into the side storage room, pushed aside a tall elm cabinet to reveal the wall behind, and pulled a thin thread behind the cabinet. Before long, a door opened in the wall.

A thin man stepped out, his face pale and eyes shadowed.

The waiter said, “The ‘lambs’ (victims) have arrived, and they’re quite plump.”

The man asked, “How many males and females?”

“Two ‘beans’ (females), two ‘buds’ (males).”

“The beans belong to me.”

The waiter spat. “Your mother! You old lecher, you already have one. Even if we gave them to you, you couldn’t handle it. It should be the brothers’ turn.”

The man clicked his tongue. “Fine, look at your attitude. Keep your eyes sharp and go scout them out first. Tell the brothers to sharpen their ‘leaves’ (blades); it’s time to slaughter the sheep.”

After speaking, the man retreated, and the secret door closed.

The waiter hurried to the kitchen and soon brought food up the stairs.

Yu Jingqiu and the other three sat together at one table. After setting down the food, the waiter said, “Please enjoy, guests. If you need anything, just call down to the floor below.” He closed the door and withdrew.

Lang Ye poured tea for the three and said, “We pushed hard today and traveled further than planned. If we move fast tomorrow, we’ll clear the pass by noon and reach the Celestial Star Palace by the morning after.”

One of the senior disciples said, “In that case, let’s rest early after eating and head out at dawn.”

Lang Ye nodded. “Yes.”

As he picked up his tea to drink, Yu Jingqiu reached out and pressed her hand down over the cup. “There is a strange fragrance in the tea.”

The scent was crude and muddled.

Lang Ye lowered his head to sniff, but the scent was covered by the tea, and he couldn’t make out anything.

However, he was well aware that Yu Jingqiu’s sense of smell was sensitive beyond that of ordinary people.

He poured the tea out onto the floor. The senior disciple also hurriedly spat out the food he had just put in his mouth.

The disciple said in a deep voice, “Could it be a black inn (a den of thieves)?”

Lang Ye said, “To be safe, drink our own water and eat the dry rations we brought. Whether it’s a black inn or not, we’ll find out tonight.”