Chapter 99: Seven Layers of Snakeskin

Chapter 99: Seven-Layered Serpent Molt

Yi Fengchu realized he was having a dream.

In the dream, he was traversing snow-covered mountains in the form of a colossal Serpent.

From his lofty vantage point, the once-majestic mountain ranges appeared as miniature dioramas—exquisite and tiny.

The small mountain shadows reflected in each gleaming scale of the Serpent before being left behind in his wake.

In the distance, the setting sun gradually sank behind the peaks, its colors so dazzling it seemed as though gold had been cast into a blazing furnace, incandescent gold-red.

Liquid gold flowed and spread from the horizon, gradually saturating every corner of the sky, even gilding the frosty peaks with a thin layer of warmth.

Yi Fengchu moved through these towering snow-capped mountains, his massive body occasionally leaving deep imprints in the snow, faintly revealing the shapes of his scales—yet these marks were destined never to be discovered by humans.

Because this was the vast, uninhabited virgin wilderness north of Dragon Snow Ridge, filled with untouched primeval forests and mountain ranges.

Coupled with the heavy snowfall of the past two days, fresh snow would completely obscure these strange traces within a day, obliterating all traces of what had transpired here.

From dusk into night, stars glittered overhead, their light reflecting off the Serpent’s mirror-bright scales, making the great Serpent appear as though it were clad in a mantle of stars.

Finally, Yi Fengchu stopped before a crystal-clear lake, where an iron signpost stood by the shore, bearing the words "Heavenly Jade Lake."

The lake’s surface was still covered in a thin layer of ice, but the Serpent’s massive weight soon shattered it into fragments, stirring the disturbed water into glittering eddies.

His belly pressed against the smooth pebbles at the lake’s bottom, while his tail unconsciously coiled around a nearby hill, bracing himself as he began to molt.

With a sound like tearing silk, the first layer of molted skin slid from Yi Fengchu’s body—his towering Serpent form shrank slightly, and the heavy molt sank to the lakebed, shallowing the lake considerably.

Not long after, the second layer peeled away, its immense mass plunging into the lake and causing the water’s surface to tremble violently, threatening to breach its banks, while the Serpent shrank further.

With the third shedding, the Serpent no longer possessed the explosive power of his former self—now, he more closely resembled a juvenile serpent, curled up in the clear, shallow water.

When the fourth layer fell away, an even more incredible transformation occurred—this time, what emerged from the molted skin was no longer a Serpent beyond human imagination, but a humanoid form.

Perhaps due to his reduced size, the subsequent sheddings became progressively easier for Yi Fengchu.

Soon, he underwent the fifth, sixth, and seventh…

Through repeated adjustments, Yi Fengchu gradually remade himself, his form increasingly resembling that of an ordinary human.

Bones took shape, muscles formed along their structure, veins threaded through forming muscle, and finally, smooth, soft skin enveloped it all.

His figure refined further—head, neck, torso, limbs—his body’s contours growing clearer and more defined, like raw material painstakingly shaped into human form.

But it wasn’t enough.

If he were to truly enter the human world as Yi Meishan’s child, he couldn’t emerge as an adult.

And so, with each shedding, Yi Fengchu’s form diminished—from youth, to adolescence, to childhood…

All of this unfolded under the silent cover of night, as he continuously shed his skin, transforming his fundamental nature.

—From deity to human, and from human to infant.

Until finally, an alabaster-skinned, black-haired baby lay naked by the lakeside, eyes closed, where the lake had once been—now replaced by a mountain.

That mountain was the accumulation of Yi Fengchu’s seven layers of molted skin, piled high to fill the lake, forming what would later be known as Dragon Snow Ridge’s fourth auxiliary peak.

At that moment, the first light of dawn broke across the horizon.

As previously agreed, Yi Meishan arrived in haste, stepping through the snow under the faint dawn light…

So that was how it happened.

Opening his eyes from the dream, Yi Fengchu stared at the camping lantern dangling from the tent ceiling, its flickering light mirroring his turbulent emotions.

So this was how he had become his mother’s child, stepping into this life…

He sighed silently, not particularly surprised, only pensively nostalgic.

What had driven him, once a great Serpent, to choose to become "human"?

After a moment of silence, his phone abruptly spoke: "What are your plans now?"

"Since that mountain is made of my molted skin, I should reclaim it."

As he spoke, Yi Fengchu’s gaze drifted beyond the tent, where flickering campfire light threw shadows of several figures.

His lips curved faintly. "Let these players, like the heroes of legend, overcome hardships to reach the treasure left behind by the great Serpent—and retrieve my molted skin for me."

……

Meanwhile, outside the tent.

The players crowded over the journal, reading the final line: "Many versions of me wander the mountain."

With those words, the notes cut off abruptly.

What had Zhang’s father experienced on that mountain?

Or rather, after wandering the snowy peaks for over a decade without food or water… was he still human?

Finishing the notes left the players with more questions than answers, a creeping dread enveloping them like a shadow, intensifying the cold of the stormy night.

After poring over the notebook, they passed it to the scholar beside them.

Though snow-blind, as an Ability user of the Truth Domain, he possessed abilities akin to "information absorption."

The moment his fingers touched the pages, all recorded information flowed into his mind like luminous streams.

Assimilating this much data took him mere seconds.

As he rapidly analyzed the contents, the scholar frowned. "The later notes don’t seem to contain anything particularly incriminating in Zhang Ming… so why did he choose to hide them earlier?"

"Maybe he didn’t want others to know his father had become a monster?"

After a pause, Lena added, "And his father’s desperate cry… If Zhang Ming didn’t just happen to find the notebook this year, it means he watched as his father’s handwriting appeared on blank pages, bearing witness to his despair, suffering, and madness—yet he never sought help for him until now."

If Lena’s speculation was correct, then Zhang Ming was undoubtedly a man of ice-cold detachment. The only thing that puzzled her was…

"But if he’s been indifferent for so long, why not maintain his feigned ignorance? Why bother hiring a team of detectives to investigate?"

"Hiring us to uncover the truth of his father’s disappearance, yet repeatedly withholding information… it’s perplexing."

Lost in thought, Lena didn’t notice Eurus’s unreadable countenance.

Among those present, perhaps only Eurus knew the real reason Zhang Ming had suddenly rediscovered concern for his estranged father—not out of filial piety, nor in pursuit of answers, but for the sole thing Zhang Ming had ever cared about: money.

All Zhang Ming wanted was that lucrative insurance payout, and to obtain it, he needed to prove his father had died in an accident.

After learning that Zhang's father was still "alive" in some uncanny form, Eurus reconsidered her hidden mission with a fresh perspective.

The hidden mission required her to "obtain evidence that Zhang Ming's father had died in an accident"...

So, if she first announced that Zhang Ming had finally found his father—who had been mentally disturbed for years, wandering the snowy mountains yet miraculously surviving—and then killed this living man, fabricating an accidental death (such as a fatal fall during the descent), would that count as completing the mission?

Moreover, such an outlandish, twist-filled tale would easily capture media attention, potentially forcing the insurance company to pay out while also allowing Zhang Ming to play the role of the devoted son who searched for his father for years, earning public sympathy and tearful admiration.

For Zhang Ming, this would be a win-win scheme.

—What a clever scheme. Too bad he had no idea how treacherous the occult world truly was.

Did Zhang Ming ever consider, before heading up the mountain, that even with a team of detective-lawyers doubling as bodyguards for protection, he might still vanish without a trace in the warped spacetime of these snowy peaks?

This was a higher-order power—one that even Ability users like the players couldn’t resist!

After a moment of contemplation, Eurus decided to temporarily set aside the hidden mission and instead opened the System Panel, attempting to fill in the first task: "Investigate the cause of Zhang Ming's father's disappearance."

She recorded the known information—

"Around 2012, Zhang's father was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. After failing to find medical treatment, he discovered that his neighbor's child, Yi Fengchu, possessed powers seemingly related to fate and the Time Domain, and sought to use mystical forces to cure himself."

"Through investigation, Zhang's father learned that Yi Fengchu originated from Longxue Ridge, a mountain range shrouded in legends, so he personally ventured there in search of salvation."

Recalling the phrase *"passing beneath His skin to make a wish in His belly,"* Eurus continued expanding her speculation:

"In the end, he successfully encountered an unnamed high-ranking divine being in the snowy mountains and made a wish for survival or immortality—his wish was technically fulfilled, but Zhang's father became trapped in the mountains, inaccessible to those in normal spacetime, existing in limbo between life and death."

The system emitted a mechanical whirring before calculating the result:

"Congratulations, player! Current progress for Mission 1 is at 75%. Carry on!"

Only 25% left...

Though slightly disappointed, Eurus wasn’t entirely surprised.

While they had uncovered the broad strokes of the story, many details remained hidden.

For example:

Why couldn’t Zhang's father leave the snowy mountains?

How had he survived all these years without food or water?

Why had he become invisible to normal people, and why did he claim there were multiple "copies" of himself wandering the mountains?

—In what form had his "wish" truly been fulfilled?

And the mysterious entity responsible for the mountain's anomalies and granting Zhang's father's wish—what was its true identity?

In Eurus’ mind flashed a pair of bottomless, detached black eyes.

Just then, a familiar voice spoke from behind her—the owner of those very eyes.

"Good evening. What are you all gathered here for?"

For a moment, Eurus felt as if she’d been caught gossiping, her body stiffening instinctively as she snapped to attention, like a soldier awaiting inspection.

Before anyone could answer, Yi Fengchu’s gaze lowered to the notebook in front of them.

His expression flickered with something indecipherable. "If I recall correctly, that should be the notebook from Zhang Ming’s bag. How did it end up in your hands?"

"Ahem." Eurus cleared her throat, then stated with false conviction, "We just discovered that Mr. Zhang Ming disappeared without a trace outside the tent!"

"To quickly locate him and provide timely assistance, we had no choice but to go through his private effects for clues to aid our search..."

Yi Fengchu smiled and called her bluff. "So you were snooping, then?"

Caught off guard by his bluntness, Eurus faltered. "..."

"Not that it matters," Yi Fengchu continued smoothly, amused by her stunned silence. "What *does* matter is that you’ve now encountered... a predicament exceeding your capabilities."

"You—"

The Scholar paused, then switched to a more respectful address. "Honored one, could you enlighten us on what you know?"

Yi Fengchu gave him a faint glance but didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, "Just tell me this—do you wish to go to the time where Zhang Ming is now?"

"..."

Silence fell as each person grappled with their doubts.

In that moment, Eurus felt as though a phantom gateway had opened before her—one that might lead to the truth they sought or plunge them into unplumbed peril. To step through or turn away?

This choice might very well determine their fate in this scenario.

Her heartbeat quickened, her pulse pounding in her temples. Licking her dry lips, she suddenly broke into a reckless grin. "Yes."

They’d already come this far—why not roll the dice?

Even if this path led straight into the abyss, she wanted to see the face of the abyss itself!

The moment she spoke, Yi Fengchu reached out, his index finger meeting her brow—

In an instant, her consciousness stuttered. When her awareness returned, the warmth of the campfire was gone, replaced by a weather-beaten ash-gray tent, its fabric snapping in the glacial wind with arthritic protests.

And at her feet, staining the snow in a dotted line, was a trail of ruby-red blood spatter...