Death loomed close. Ji En nearly lost his soul to terror. Clutching the unconscious woman, he thrashed toward the shore.
On land, Hao Lan and the others shouted and hurled stones. To their surprise, the serpent actually shifted its pursuit toward them, even slithering ashore in a furious chase!
The three scattered in panic.
Ji En struggled onto the bank, lungs burning, only to find the serpent had circled back. It loomed ten paces before him, head raised, tongue flickering, fangs bared.
Trapped between water and beast, Ji En bolted along the lakeside, the serpent surging after him with a stench of blood and a hiss of death.
In that dire instant, a piercing crane cry split the air—followed by the serpent's agonized roar.
Ji En dared not look back. He fled blindly, hearing the thunder of the serpent's thrashing and the desperate final cries of the white crane. In its dying moment, the loyal creature had struck a grievous wound upon the serpent, giving its life to save them.
When Ji En finally turned, he saw blood gushing from a gaping wound in the serpent's skull. The beast writhed in pain, but still it lived. Fixing upon Ji En, it lunged again.
Desperate, Ji En laid the woman head-down on a slope, forcing water from her lungs. She coughed, sputtered, and drew breath—but struck her head against a stone, waking in fright just as Ji En clumsily adjusted her disheveled clothes. Mistaking his intent, she slapped him fiercely across the face before fainting again.
Stunned, Ji En hastily straightened her garments, then carried her and fled. His back wound burst open, blood soaking his robe.
Reaching their camp, he froze at the scream of his donkey—the beast was trapped in the coils of yet another serpent. Snatching up a boiling pot, Ji En hurled its scalding contents upon the snake. It recoiled in agony, loosening its grip long enough for the donkey to break free, battered but alive.
Gathering his bundle and the unconscious woman, Ji En staggered into the night, half-dragging the limping donkey, fleeing until he collapsed beneath a great tree.
There, trembling and bleeding, he kindled a fire for warmth, applied the last of his salves to the woman, and kept vigil against wolves and serpents alike. Near midnight, she finally stirred.
Her eyes opened—and filled with killing intent. She groped for her missing sword, glaring at Ji En as if at a villain.
"Wait! Hear me first!" Ji En cried, retreating with raised hands. "I pulled you from the lake! I saved your life!"