Soulbound Destiny

Chapter 8: Flight for Life

The shadow of death descended in an instant. Gene’s heart leapt into his throat as he struggled, dragging the young female cultivator through the icy lake toward the shore.

Haolan, Lin Feng, and Xiao Wei shouted from the bank, hurling stones to divert the attention of the giant python. To their astonishment, the serpent turned toward the commotion, slithering into the water and even climbing partway onto the bank in pursuit. The three of them screamed in alarm and scattered, narrowly avoiding the beast’s snapping jaws.

Seizing the moment, Gene redoubled his efforts, pushing through the freezing water. He neared the shore, gasping for relief—only to look up and see the monstrous python had somehow returned, looming just ten paces away. Its head reared high, tongue flicking, fangs bared, poised to strike.

“Oh no!” Gene’s stomach twisted with terror. Ahead, the python; behind, the lake’s unfathomable depth. There was no way forward. He adjusted his grip, securing the female cultivator on his back, and attempted to skirt along the lake’s edge.

The python lunged with terrifying speed, massive body cutting through the water, sending waves crashing around them. Its gaping maw surged toward Gene with horrifying precision. Every heartbeat felt like an eternity.

At that critical moment, a piercing, sorrowful cry rang out—a high, haunting wail. It was the crane. Immediately after came the python’s guttural scream of pain.

Gene didn’t dare look back, pressing forward with all his strength. Behind him, the dull, thunderous thuds of the serpent’s body striking the ground mingled with the crane’s dying, mournful calls. With the last ounce of its strength, the white crane had struck the python, dealing a grievous wound, yet exhausting its own life in the process.

Gene swam with everything he had, covering several dozen feet before daring to glance backward. The python writhed violently near the shore, a huge hole gaping in its head, blood spraying wildly. The loyal crane lay motionless, lifeless beside the bloodied shoreline.

Though mortally wounded, the serpent was far from dead. Spying Gene, it dragged its shattered body forward again, relentless. Gene, carrying the cultivator, could not outrun it. Panic surged as the beast closed in. In a desperate gamble, he spotted a steep embankment ahead. With a grim determination, he set the female cultivator down, head pointing downhill, and pressed her carefully against the slope, trying to expel the water she had swallowed.

The effort forced her to cough up a torrent of water, her chest rising weakly with renewed breath. However, her head struck a rock in the process, jolting her awake. She opened her eyes and immediately glimpsed Gene beside her—seemingly behaving inappropriately as he adjusted her clothing. Furious and disoriented, she slapped him across the face before collapsing unconscious once more.

Dazed, Gene scrambled to secure her garments, barely able to keep up with the urgency of their flight. Hoisting her back onto his shoulders, he fled into the forest. His body was exhausted, wounds on his back reopening, blood soaking his tunic.

Reaching the spot where they had rested earlier, he froze at the sound of a pitiful bray. Another giant python—likely the mate of the first—was entwined around his donkey, intent on killing and devouring it. Rage surged in Gene. Grabbing a boiling pot of soup, he hurled it at the beast. The python shrieked in pain, thrashing wildly. The donkey seized the chance to escape, though it was badly injured.

Gene quickly gathered their remaining belongings and iron cookware, hoisted the young cultivator once more, and led the limping donkey away, fleeing with every ounce of strength he had.

Finally, completely spent, he collapsed beneath a large tree. The cultivator’s breath was faint, her body icy to the touch. Gene forced himself to start a fire, warming her with the flames, and applied the last of his medicinal salves to her injuries.

He did not close his eyes, keeping watch over the flickering fire, vigilant against wolves and any surviving python. Only in the dead of night did the cultivator stir, slowly regaining consciousness.

Opening her eyes, she immediately struggled to reach for a weapon, only to find her sword missing. Murderous intent flashed across her gaze.

“Wait! Don’t strike! Let me explain!” Gene stumbled back, hands raised in supplication. “I’m the one who saved you from the lake!”