Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Strange Mushroom

She had been locked in a standoff with the rock python for nearly an hour and a half. By now, Catherine had gained a full appreciation for the extraordinary patience of serpentine hunters. For ninety whole minutes, the huge snake had barely shifted its posture; though it dared not cross that invisible line between them, it still refused to leave.

Catherine noticed a subtle detail: around the hour mark, the mottled rock python’s head had inclined slightly forward. The movement was slight and quickly withdrawn, but she recognized it as a clear test of boundaries. If the next probing advance went unpunished, the great serpent would shed all misgivings and slither across to swallow her whole.

Fortunately, after this extended rest, Catherine felt her body had recovered considerably. Though her internal injuries lingered, her limbs had regained their basic strength. If she disregarded any potential consequences, she could still run swiftly—so long as she avoided the python’s initial strike, the creature’s speed would not suffice to catch her.

She had mastered her panic and anxiety, sinking into a state of utter calm. Her breaths were long and deep; each inhalation, tinged with the taste of blood, she tried to keep in her chest as long as possible before exhaling slowly, extracting every bit of oxygen from the air.

Catherine found that, though the scent of blood in each breath was unpleasant, her acute senses allowed her to vaguely perceive the passage of air through her body. She even imagined she could roughly understand how the breath was used within her; if her lungs were like a giant furnace, she now seemed to glimpse a fragment of its inner workings.

She had already consumed the snake egg in its entirety, eating with utmost care. She cracked the massive egg completely, sucking every trace of yolk and white from the shell, not sparing even the smallest scrap. Witnessing this, the mottled rock python’s blood-red gaze grew more intense; it began to grow restless, its head raised high, its crimson tongue flickering, emitting a strange, menacing hiss.

“I have to act first,” Catherine murmured, half as an explanation to her streaming audience, half to convince herself. With her peculiar breathing rhythm, she rose slowly to her feet. “People know that large felines have an instinct to attack the backs of their prey. In truth, nearly all predators share this instinct—felines just display it more overtly. I can’t let the rock python test me a second time. I must turn my back to it, trigger its attack reflex. At that instant it crosses the line, there will be a split-second pause—and that’s my final chance for survival!”

She paid no heed to the viewers urging her not to take risks; perhaps Lin Mo would return any moment, but the feeling of her fate slipping out of her control was unbearable. She shut down the streaming window, adjusted her stance, and watched every movement of the python with hawk-like intensity.

The serpent’s head swayed minutely back and forth; its tail gently tapped the ground in an inexplicable rhythm. Catherine waited patiently. In the instant the python’s tail struck the ground and its head leaned forward, she pivoted in place, exposing her unguarded back to the enormous snake.

The mottled rock python issued a thunderous hiss! Repeating its previous tactic, its thick tail slammed the ground, and its powerful head, propelled by its neck, arched back before snapping forward with terrifying speed. Its coiled body unfurled in a perfect S-curve, gliding rapidly across the earth.

She felt the familiar tremor beneath her feet. Her long, steady breathing had brought Catherine a heart as calm as still water. This time, she clearly sensed three earthen spikes bursting from the ground ahead, behind her to the right, and diagonally below; a fourth was brewing to her left front, while the only deliberately unguarded angle—her left rear—was precisely where the serpent’s gaping maw lunged.

This round of attack was meticulous, leaving nearly no escape, but Catherine remained unflinching. The serpent’s every calculation unfolded plainly in her mind. She stepped naturally to her left front, missing the three spikes by a hair’s breadth, her leg already coiled with tension. The moment her foot touched down, she sprang left rearward, skimming past another earthen spike.

Landing in the left rear quadrant, she was airborne, but the python’s jaws were already close enough to feel their breath. Many viewers had shut their eyes in terror, but a few sharp-eyed ones noticed the odd angle of Catherine and the python.

Yes, odd! At that moment, the serpent’s maw and Catherine’s ankle were level, but crucially, the python, having lunged from over ten meters away, had reached the apex of its strike—its head was beginning to fall, while Catherine, freshly airborne, was still ascending.

Regret shone in the serpent’s eyes; it realized it had been outmaneuvered by this infuriating little monkey. It strained desperately to arch its head upward, trying to graze her with its fangs, but it was futile—Catherine’s foot landed squarely atop the python’s head.

She pressed down lightly with her toes, using the serpent as a springboard, and in the blink of an eye soared twenty meters into the dense canopy, vanishing from view. The python’s head slammed heavily to the ground—not enough to hurt it, but enough to signal another failed hunt. Was it truly growing sluggish with repeated failures? The thought circled its small reptilian brain, plunging it into such dejection that it slithered back to its lair with a listless air.

Clinging high in the branches, Catherine watched the massive snake slither away, a faint smile breaking across her face at the perfection of her escape. She had timed her actions flawlessly. She had already observed that the python needed to slam its tail on the ground to muster its magic; when she turned, its tail was still down, buying her a crucial moment for escape.

Then, the forward dip of its head—serpents must draw back before striking, the force transmitted through their twisting bodies—gave her a further instant as it reared. Add to this the python’s lack of preparation, its instinct-driven, hasty attack, and the momentary hesitation as it crossed the invisible boundary; these fractions of a second combined to give Catherine just enough time to pull off this perilous maneuver.

But perched atop the tree, Catherine was far from well. Though she had survived, her lungs were nowhere near healed. The seemingly simple actions had placed unimaginable strain on her body. After all her slow breathing had steadied her heart, now it thundered in her chest, her five lung lobes burning, her chest a bonfire of pain. A mouthful of blood clogged her throat, but she forced it down.

She knew that spitting it out would bring relief, ease the burden on her organs, but dangers in the rainforest went beyond the python. The scent of fresh blood could draw countless predators in these primeval woods. She had no idea when Lin Mo would return. In her current state—frail as a newborn—even a single low-level magical beast could spell her doom.

Mustering all her will, Catherine held on desperately. The taste in her throat grew sweeter, blood beading at the corners of her lips, her arms around the branch weakening, her grip faltering. Just as her vision began to double and she could barely hold on, a familiar voice reached her ears:

“Well done. That little stomp just now—very imaginative.”

The voice was nothing special, but to Catherine it was heavenly music. Tears welled and spilled down her smooth cheeks, mingling joy, relief, grievance, and exasperation. She opened her mouth to speak but instead coughed up a mouthful of dark blood, hastily clamping her lips shut as darkness crept at the edges of her vision.

Through the haze, she felt strong fingers pry her mouth open, and something soft was pushed inside, sliding straight down her throat, requiring no chewing. There was no gentleness in the gesture, but somehow, the rough fingers brushing her sensitive tongue sparked a strange pleasure, sending a flush across her cheeks. When the fingers withdrew, she even felt—was it regret?—well up within her.

There was no time to dwell on this odd sensation. Whatever she had swallowed worked its power instantly, releasing a surge of energy that exploded through her body, erasing any trace of pain. Her lungs were whole, even the faint ache in her heart vanished.

Her mind cleared; she flipped upright on the treetop, staring at herself in disbelief, pinching her arms and sides to confirm—she was entirely healed. Every internal injury had vanished.

She forgot all her complaints. Incredulous, she looked up at Lin Mo and asked, “That’s it? I’m healed? Master, what did you give me?”

She heard Lin Mo’s calm reply:

“This.”

With that, a grotesque, menacing beetle was presented before her eyes.