Shi Kai carefully examined the cave. Inside, it was pitch black, damp, and humid, with a faint sound of wind echoing through the darkness.
He thought to himself, This is exactly the kind of place snakes love—it might just be a snake's nest. Taking a deep breath, he summoned his courage and cautiously stepped inside.
The deeper he went, the larger the cave became. Years of training had honed Shi Kai's ability to see in the dark, so he didn't dwell on fear and simply kept searching for the trail of the white snake. After walking for a while, a chill slowly crept over him. He wondered silently, Why has the temperature suddenly dropped so much?
This cave was none other than Shennongjia's famous "Hot-and-Cold Cave." It was so vast that even thousands of people standing inside would not feel crowded. The interior was filled with fantastically shaped stalagmites, stone pillars, stone drums, and stone curtains. Anyone stepping inside for the first time would think they had entered a fairyland.
In nature, such caves are not uncommon—but what made this one strange was the extremely sharp boundary between hot and cold air. Right at the entrance, there was a clearly visible dividing line: stand on the cold side, and icy wind pierced through you; stand on the other side, and it felt like a warm spring breeze was caressing your face. The two sides were separated by nothing more than an invisible line, yet the temperature difference exceeded 10°C. People had named it the "Hot-and-Cold Cave."
Why did such a stark temperature difference exist? Some believed the low temperature inside the cave was normal, but that the warmer side was heated by a hot spring beneath the ground, which released heat upward. However, according to the principle of heat transfer, no matter how long such a condition persisted, it should not form such a sharp dividing line. Others speculated that the unique shape of the cave's entrance caused hot and cold air to meet and mingle in just the right way to form an "air barrier," thus creating this peculiar phenomenon.
Shi Kai examined the cave with growing curiosity, his doubts mounting. At last, he spotted the dividing line between hot and cold. I never imagined the temperature could change so drastically right here—it's like a mystery, he thought.
Suddenly, the sound of something scraping against the ground startled him. Following the noise cautiously, he thought, Something strange must be going on here.
Just then, he felt something rushing at him from behind. Acting on instinct, he twisted aside, and heard rubble shattering against the cave wall. When he turned to look, he caught sight of a massive white snake's tail before it vanished from view.
Every nerve in his body tightened. It seemed he really had found the snake's nest—and here was the mutant white snake his master had told him about. A surge of competitive spirit boiled up in his chest. Today, I'll kill it and bring it back for my master's wine, he vowed.
Truly, skill breeds courage. After four years of constant training, Shi Kai was no longer the man he once was.
He moved carefully, focusing on every sound and shift of air in the cave. Finally, at a bend in the tunnel, he saw it—the mutant white snake. Its body was pure snow-white, thicker than a bowl, nearly seven meters long. Its red eyes gleamed, and its venomous fangs were bared as it coiled around a stone pillar, flicking its forked tongue toward him.
What a huge snake… Shi Kai thought, unsure for a moment where to strike first.
The white snake gave him no time to decide. With a sharp whoosh, it sprang from the pillar, lunging at him. Shi Kai had heard from his master that white snakes were fast, but he had never imagined this fast. Unable to dodge in time, he thrust out both hands and grabbed it at the seven-inch mark—the vital spot.
The instant his hands closed around it, a tremendous force surged through its body. Regret struck him—he had underestimated its strength, and it nearly broke free.
Writhing in pain from his grip, the white snake opened its jaws and lashed its venomous tongue toward Shi Kai's face. Sensing danger, he twisted sharply to the left, pulling the snake down with him as they crashed to the ground, locked in a fierce struggle.
But before he could regain control, the snake's tail whipped toward him, coiling tightly around his body. Shi Kai felt as if every bone in his frame was about to snap, agony stabbing through him. Desperate, he tightened his grip on the snake's neck with all his strength…
Shi Kai was drenched in sweat, the pain almost unbearable. The snake's coils tightened even further. If this keeps up, I'll be strangled to death. I need to think of something…
A surge of fierce determination rose in him. Quickly loosening one hand, he lifted his dagger and drove it viciously into the snake's left eye. A spray of hot blood shot down his arm. Shi Kai withdrew his weapon and immediately clamped his grip back around the serpent's neck.
Howling in agony, the snake released him and lashed its tail hard. The blow sent Shi Kai hurtling into the cave wall; when he hit the ground, stars burst before his eyes.
When he regained his footing, he saw the snake thrashing wildly, smashing its tail against everything in reach—stone chips flew in every direction. Shi Kai dared not act rashly. This thing's strength is monstrous… that one strike nearly rearranged my internal organs.
After a furious flurry of tail strikes, the serpent stilled for a heartbeat—then lunged at him, jaws gaping wider than before, moving even faster than the first time. This time, Shi Kai didn't try to block it head-on. He leapt past the snake's charge, grabbed its tail with both hands, and swung it with all his might, slamming the white serpent sideways into the cave wall. The impact landed with a deep boom, and the snake crashed to the ground.
Shi Kai hadn't expected that such a heavy blow would do little harm. Instead, it enraged the creature. Its ferocity redoubled, its massive tail sweeping with such force that the entire cave seemed to quake. Several times the tail struck Shi Kai, knocking him to the ground. He spat a mouthful of blood, then forced himself up again, dodging the relentless assaults.
The man–snake battle had reached its fever pitch. They circled each other, both poised for the killing blow—Shi Kai, determined to blind the serpent's remaining eye; the white snake, intent on coiling him to death and swallowing him whole.
Shi Kai decided to strike first. With a burst of speed, he leapt onto the snake's head. The serpent felt the weight and went into a violent frenzy, thrashing in every direction. Shaken nearly senseless, Shi Kai slipped down, but locked his arms around the creature's seven-inch vital spot. Seeing the tail whip toward him again, he sprang upward and grabbed hold of a stalactite above. With one swift motion, he swung his dagger toward the snake's right eye.
But this time, the serpent had learned. It reared its head sharply back, jaws yawning wide, aiming to bite off his right hand. Realizing there was no avoiding it, Shi Kai slashed downward instead—shearing off its two great fangs—then drove the blade deep into its mouth, forcing it down through the throat.
The snake's jaws clamped down hard on his right arm, and he heard the sharp crack of bone. He knew instantly his arm was broken. Years of training had hardened his limbs like stone, yet the pain ripped a roar from his throat—worse even than when he had fought a pack of wolves.
Blood gushed from the serpent's throat as it writhed, its tail lashing uncontrollably. Shi Kai's vision began to blur; he knew the venom was already in his system. Summoning the last of his strength, he raised his dagger in his left hand and stabbed into the snake's right eye. A fountain of blood splattered across his face. The serpent ceased moving. Shi Kai collapsed into darkness.
On the Brink of Death
Pain seared through his arm. Shi Kai's brow furrowed as he regained consciousness, finding himself submerged in a medicinal bath. His right arm was splinted with tree branches. Relief washed over him—it could only mean his master had saved him.
His master was sitting on the ground, roasting snake meat over a fire. Nodding with satisfaction, he said, "Not bad. Stinky brat, want to try some?"
Shi Kai shook his head faintly. The vivid memory of the battle still burned in his mind, leaving no appetite for food.
"I thought you'd be lucky just to catch an ordinary white snake," his master said between bites. "Didn't expect you to wander into the Hot-and-Cold Cave and pick a fight with a mutant giant snake."
Shi Kai gave a wry smile. He had no idea such a huge serpent was in that cave—let alone one so dangerous.
"Your arm's broken," his master said casually. "Even with my secret medicine, it'll take ten days to heal. But the bigger problem is the venom. If I hadn't been following you, you'd have died long before now."
"Ah!" Shi Kai exclaimed, suddenly remembering the poison. "Master, can this medicine cure it?"
His master shook his head regretfully. "No. This medicine can heal wounds and strengthen your body—but it can't cure venom."
"Then what should I do? Am I doomed to die?" Shi Kai asked nervously.
"If you were going to die, you'd already be dead," his master chuckled.
Shi Kai thought for a moment. If not for his master, he would indeed be gone by now—so surely the old man had some miraculous antidote. He looked at his master, suspicion and hope mingling in his eyes.
"Don't look at me—look in your bucket and you'll understand," the master said, pointing to the wooden tub.
Shi Kai lowered his head and glanced inside. A fiery red object, about the size of a palm, floated to the surface. In an instant, he remembered the Scorpion King from four years ago, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
The red scorpion surfaced, waved its pincers at Shi Kai, then crawled along the rim of the bucket straight into the master's hand—shrinking in size as it moved.
This was Shi Kai's second time seeing the ancient divine creature known as the King of Scorpions.
The master smiled at him. "Don't be afraid. From now on, it will follow you. Its strength is tremendous—never underestimate its power."
Shi Kai still looked puzzled. "What does this have to do with my poisoning?"
"You were bitten by a snake, and it was thanks to this creature that you survived—using poison to fight poison. The stinger of this scorpion can secrete tens of thousands of different venoms, each with varying potency. After you were poisoned, I let it sting you once. Otherwise, do you think you'd still be alive? The venom of that mutant white snake is extremely potent. You still have residual poison in your system, and it will take at least two more stings to purge it. Just rest for now. Once you've recovered, I'll teach you how to control the scorpion."
With that, the master turned and left the room.
Shi Kai sat quietly in the tub. His fear of the scorpion had lessened—in fact, he felt a strange sense of kinship toward it, even a trace of affection. Before long, he drifted into sleep.
Ten days later, Shi Kai had fully recovered, and the master began teaching him how to command the Scorpion King.
The master placed the scorpion in his hand. It began to grow larger, its color deepening to a richer red. When it reached the size of a handspan, it suddenly leapt down to the ground and kept growing—until it stretched to twelve meters in length and sixty centimeters in width.
Shi Kai took several steps back, studying the massive creature cautiously. The Scorpion King's entire body was a dark, bloody red. Its tail, as thick as a human arm, lashed the air while its giant pincers clacked menacingly as it stared at him.
Cold sweat streamed down Shi Kai's back. This creature was a hundred times more terrifying than the white snake—truly one of Shennongjia's greatest secrets, and a source of unimaginable power.
At that moment, the master bent his knees and leapt onto the armored back of the Scorpion King. "See this, brat? This is the power of heaven and earth. Long, long ago, the unique environment preserved this primal land of Shennongjia. Countless creatures from hundreds of millions of years ago survived here. To adapt to new conditions, they evolved. Whether it's the mutant white snake, this scorpion, or even the water beast in the deep pool near Stone Village—they are all products of history. Each has extraordinary intelligence. To possess their strength is to wield the most ancient and mysterious power."
Seeing this, Shi Kai couldn't help but click his tongue in disbelief. Terrifying… utterly terrifying, he thought.
Standing atop the scorpion's armored back, the master took a swig of wine and continued, "Well, brat, what do you think? The Scorpion King's armor is impenetrable, its pincers powerful enough to shear through steel and concrete as if they were paper. More impressive still is its tail—capable of releasing countless kinds of venom, each shaped by the will of its master. Want to try?"
With that, the master casually took another drink from his gourd and steered the Scorpion King in a wide circle around the clearing.
Shi Kai watched the scene, completely devoid of any desire to "try." In all his four years in Shennongjia, he had never been so afraid. It was as if both his master and the scorpion were monsters—indescribable in words.
After a lap, the master leapt down and, without warning, grabbed the still-shaken Shi Kai and tossed him onto the scorpion's back.
Shi Kai, who didn't even dare touch it, slammed hard against the creature's rigid armor. He scrambled to his feet, a wave of nausea and dread rising in his chest.
Seeing that he was about to jump off, the master flicked a drop of wine straight at his forehead. The impact was sharp, and his master's voice turned cold. "Stay put. Get to know it. Once you're familiar with each other, you'll uncover the Scorpion King's greatest secrets and power for yourself. Don't worry—without my command, it won't hurt you. But it will take you for a run, just so you can feel what it's like."
The words had barely left his mouth when the giant scorpion surged forward—faster than a tiger or leopard. Shi Kai was so terrified he squeezed his eyes shut, kneeling on the armored back as the wind roared past his ears. Everywhere they went, birds and beasts scattered in panic. The Scorpion King was not only the king of scorpions, but the ruler of all living things; animals fled at the mere sight of it, and the vegetation it passed withered instantly—a testament to its deadly venom.
After a while, Shi Kai's fear began to subside. He slowly opened his eyes, taking in the breathtaking and terrifying scenes around him. A strange, indescribable thrill surged through him—the thrill of conquering everything in his path. Before long, instead of fear, a cold smile tugged at his lips. Those who block me will die, the thought rose unbidden in his mind.
Yet the Scorpion King was obedient. It did not harm the forest creatures, and the withered leaves soon turned green again—healthier than before.
Shi Kai watched in wonder. His fear was gone, replaced by a calm, almost arrogant ease. He sat down and continued to enjoy the scenery as they sped past.
After a full circuit, the Scorpion King returned to where they had started. Shi Kai jumped down, and the massive creature quickly began to shrink, until it was no larger than a thumb-sized black scorpion crawling along the ground.
The master walked over, drinking from his gourd. "Well? Feels good, doesn't it? That rush of conquest?"
Shi Kai felt a shiver in his heart. How does he know exactly what I was feeling?
The master chuckled. "Perfectly normal. This scorpion is intelligent—it can bring out your most primal desires. You're obsessed with revenge, your mind locked on life-and-death struggles, so it fuels those impulses. That's why you must learn to control your desires, or they'll lead you to ruin without hope of return."
"Disciple understands. From now on, I will keep my thoughts firmly under control," Shi Kai vowed with determination.
It will follow you from now on," the master said. "If you are good, it will be good. If you are evil, it will be evil. If you are reckless, it will be even more reckless. Now is the time to train your will. Only with a strong and unshakable mind can you control it. Do you understand? From this day on, I will tell you stories every day to broaden your knowledge. I know you seek revenge, but I don't want you to lose the ability to distinguish between right and wrong. Those who must be killed—kill them. Those who should not—spare them. I hope you understand."
With that, the master picked up the shrunken Scorpion King and placed it in Shi Kai's hand.
Shi Kai engraved his master's teaching deep into his heart.
Time passed.
Another year went by, and Shi Kai was now seventeen. His skin was dark from the sun, his eyes sharp and cold, his tall and sturdy frame radiating raw masculine strength.
Under the master's relentless training, he had become like a piece of jade imbued with spirit—though still a half-finished gem. As the saying goes, "A sword is forged in ten years," and the master's painstaking effort could be seen in every step of his growth.
Through constant drills, Shi Kai's blade could now slice through stone in an instant. Blindfolded in a pitch-dark room, he could dodge all one hundred and eight flying needles—and catch every single one. His agility and speed had soared from daily chases against tigers, leopards, wolves, and lions; he could leap several meters in a single bound, and with the trunk of a great tree as a springboard, rebound swiftly through the jungle. Birds of all kinds—he could snatch them from the air in the blink of an eye.
What pleased Shi Kai most was that he could now control the Scorpion King freely with nothing but his will. This, he had to admit, was largely thanks to the "political education classes" his master had given him.
In truth, the master hadn't known exactly what stories to tell at first. In his impatience, he began with the history of Shennongjia, then moved on to the Three Kingdoms, Sun Tzu's Art of War, and the Thirty-Six Stratagems. When he finally ran out of ideas, he simply recounted the history of China—from Pangu opening the heavens to the Qing Dynasty. Poor Shi Kai listened to it all like a schoolboy in a politics class, but he found the stories so engaging that he listened closely every time, often asking questions. Over time, it became a habit. From these tales, he learned many truths, and they planted in him a new strength—one that would shape his destiny.