Chapter Forty-Eight: The Serpentfish of the Wetlands (Part 1)

After Gu Zhiheng left Ancheng, just as he had expected, Guanqing Village remained in turmoil for quite some time.

But none of that concerned him; he hadn’t so much as touched anything inside that cave.

Once out of Ancheng, Gu Zhiheng took out his record book on spirits and monsters, checked off the page for the Deep-earth Octopus, and jotted down a few brief notes.

He flipped to the next page. The entry was about the Wetland Snakefish.

Five hundred and fifty years of cultivation, can assume human form, female appearance.

Slightly poisonous; grind the snake bone at the seventh segment into powder, use it with cinnabar and fresh blood to draw talismans.

A few succinct lines explained both the Wetland Snakefish and the use of its bones.

Gu Zhiheng put away the book and set out for Minjiang Town.

Minjiang Town lay in the northwest, under the jurisdiction of Chigang City, situated to the city's west—a medium-sized township.

There were about a thousand households, with a registered population of around ten thousand.

Of course, not that many actually lived there; most of the young people had left to work elsewhere.

Chigang City and Ancheng were in opposite directions. Gu Zhiheng did a quick calculation—driving there would take about a day.

It was four in the morning now; he didn’t plan to set out immediately, deciding instead to get more rest.

At dawn, he would check out of the Ancheng hotel, and, twenty-four hours later, he should reach Chigang City.

He took a careful shower, changed into clean clothes, lay down, and considered which route he should take at sunrise.

Exhausted, he drifted off soon after lying down, and in the fog of sleep, once again encountered the so-called sleeping Ye Zheng in his mind.

“Don’t ask me. I disagree. Don’t ever call me in here again!” Gu Zhiheng preempted him, shutting down whatever Ye Zheng was about to say the moment he opened his mouth.

Every time he met Ye Zheng, it was always the same rhetoric—Gu Zhiheng was sick of hearing it.

“I just called you in for a chat. Is that really such a big deal?” Ye Zheng, who looked exactly like him, lounged on the other side, all nonchalance.

He no longer urged Gu Zhiheng’s soul to merge with his own; both of them had given up, content to wait each other out.

“Fine, I’m going back to sleep. Just the sight of you is annoying.” Gu Zhiheng exited the space in his mind that belonged to Ye Zheng, leaving without a backward glance.

Lying in bed, Gu Zhiheng suddenly woke, rubbed his eyes uneasily, rolled over, and soon drifted back to sleep.

Every time something like this happened, he never remembered it afterward. All he felt was a lingering fatigue, with no other thoughts at all.

Time ticked by, and the eastern sky began to pale.

Ever since he left the ancestral hall, he had slept soundly every night. No one would suddenly wake him while he slept, and his quality of rest had greatly improved.

When the clock struck eight, the alarm on his phone rang. Gu Zhiheng got out of bed.

Recently, Chu Xingran and the others hadn’t messaged him. Whatever they were up to, he hoped he wouldn’t run into them when he went out.

During this time apart, he’d gradually accepted that no one would help him anymore; he had to learn to handle everything alone.

Even though his first instinct when trouble arose was still to seek their help, he always abandoned the idea as soon as he realized.

Once he’d calmed down, he chose to face reality and whatever difficulties came his way.

Everyone has their own period of growth. In these days, he was utterly on his own—whether walking or crawling forward, the only one he could rely on was himself.

He could only depend on himself, believe in himself, and steadily follow the path he’d chosen.

...

Chigang City, hotel.

“A room for a week, please. I don’t want anyone disturbing me during that time.” Gu Zhiheng handed his ID to the receptionist and waited patiently.

A few minutes later, the young woman at the front desk handed back his ID along with the room card and had someone from the lobby escort him to his room.

“Sir, this is your room. If you need anything, just call the extension,” the attendant said politely, then closed the door and left. Gu Zhiheng wheeled his suitcase inside and settled in.

He hung up his clothes in the wardrobe, put away his toiletries, took a quick shower, and lay down on the bed.

He was truly exhausted—driving was even more draining than fighting those spirits and monsters. His back ached, his legs cramped, and every muscle protested.

Yet despite his fatigue, he couldn’t fall asleep right away. He tossed and turned, feeling restless.

Lately, he’d experienced all sorts of emotions ordinary people had—so many that he scarcely recognized himself.

Unbeknownst to Gu Zhiheng, Mo Han and the others were also in Chigang City, staying at the same hotel.

“It’s been two days and we still can’t find the snakefish. Where on earth is that thing hiding?” Chen Yuan, frustrated, collapsed onto the sofa and stared blankly at the ceiling.

She’d been especially irritable these past two days. She’d even snapped at Chi Zhou over the phone more than once.

“Hiding even better than a rat in a sewer. No wonder everyone’s lost patience—it’s driving me crazy!” Chu Xingran was equally exasperated; her legs were sore from days of searching.

Mo Han watched the two vent their anger, quietly listening from the side, saying nothing.

Better to keep silent than become their next target—this wasn’t the first time they’d used him as a scapegoat.

These days, it wasn’t just Chi Zhou getting chewed out; Mo Han hadn’t escaped either. Chu Xingran barked orders at him all day long.

Since she’d become his girlfriend, Mo Han had truly seen her real nature.

Good heavens—fierce, unruly, completely unreasonable!

“Mo Han, I’ve been talking to you for ages. Are you deaf?” Chu Xingran shouted at him. Mo Han looked up at her helplessly.

It was a snakefish, not a snake—his summoning skills were useless!

“How about you two take a break tomorrow, and I’ll go look on my own? You could stroll around town and relax.” Mo Han now understood why Mo Bai always complained about his girlfriend being so much trouble.

Calling it ‘trouble’ was an understatement—she piled every matter onto herself, whether it involved her or not.

Now Mo Han shared in that suffering. It was torture, but he couldn’t even say a word in protest, bottling up his frustration inside.

Women were never reasonable—because to them, they were the very definition of reason.

“No, we’d better stick together. It’s too dangerous for you to go alone,” Chu Xingran replied, preferring they act as a group. After all, snakefish were social creatures.

If Mo Han ran into a whole swarm on his own, even with his cultivation, he’d be in serious trouble.

“Alright, that’s fine. Let’s all get some rest and set out a bit later tomorrow,” Mo Han agreed, knowing he’d better follow Chu Xingran’s lead. Otherwise, he could forget about any rest that night—she’d criticize him until morning.

Chen Yuan and Mo Han left Chu Xingran’s room and retired to their own. After tidying up, they settled in for the night.

Tomorrow, they’d search again—maybe this time they’d get lucky.

After all, the creature lived in thick mud; it was only natural that it was hard to find.