“Cock-a-doodle-doo~”
The rooster’s crow splits the darkness, heralding dawn.
The moment the first cry reached his ears, Qin Lang’s body reacted before his mind did — he shot up from bed, ready for his daily training.
“At the third watch by lamplight, and the fifth to the rooster’s call — that is the time for a man to hone his skills.”
That was the old venomous geezer’s constant maxim. Rain, snow, frost, or storm — it made no difference. At the first rooster’s crow, Qin Lang had to be up and training. Otherwise, the old man would toss snakes or scorpions into his bedding to “keep him company” through the night.
Even here in Xiayang City, Qin Lang never thought of slacking. He washed quickly, then jogged to the small hill behind No. 7 Middle School.
This was the practice spot he had chosen for himself, already scouted the day before.
Centering his focus, Qin Lang began his—Subduing Dragon Stance.
The old man had said: the martial path has nine stages. First, forging strength; second, staking the stance. Staking meant planting yourself like a post — a foundational stage every true martial artist must pass.
The Subduing Dragon Stance was… peculiar. Three years ago, when Qin Lang first practiced it, his whole body would ache; and the old man’s stick and curses didn’t help. But now, the longer he stood, the lighter his body felt, and his mind grew sharper. After three years of staking, his grasp of the method had deepened. By accident, he had once overheard that this stance wasn’t the old man’s own creation, but something he’d stolen from the Buddhist sects.
Now, standing on the peak, Qin Lang felt like an ancient pine, rooted deep, unmoving before wind or rain.
Gradually, he grasped the true meaning behind “Subduing Dragon” —
The spine, from neck to lower back, is made of twenty-four vertebrae: a great dragon coiled within the body. Because of this “dragon,” a man can stand tall between heaven and earth. But “subduing” the dragon meant more than lying in wait — it meant mastering it completely. Only when you have tamed this inner dragon can you truly stand tall, striking with the force of a thunderclap, soaring like a phoenix when the time comes.
To conquer others, one must first conquer oneself.
This staking wasn’t just about standing firm. It was about subduing all strength in the body, and even the impulses in the mind, concentrating them along the dragon of the spine. With heaven and earth as grindstones, both body and will were honed.
Ordinary horse-stance practice couldn’t compare.
“Truly formidable!”
The realization burst in his mind. The old venomous geezer might be lazy, but the foundation he’d given Qin Lang was first-rate.
Three years of toil, and one instant of insight — yet without the three years, the insight would never have come.
He knew he had reached the pinnacle of the second stage: staking. Next would be the third — forms — learning and mastering martial techniques.
But instead of basking in joy, Qin Lang “subdued” it, holding the stance as steady as an ancient cliffside pine, bathed in fading starlight, awaiting the first rays of dawn.
Morning light crept in; birds began to sing.
Suddenly, he felt pine needles drop onto his head. Above, a branch shook violently; a bird’s nest erupted in frantic flapping as fledglings fled in terror.
Looking up, he saw a two-meter-long snake draped across a branch — mottled yellow like cauliflower, its head triangular. Venomous.
It had just raided a nest, swallowing a hatchling whole. The two parent birds chirped furiously, but could do nothing.
Nature’s law: the weak are prey.
The snake slithered down the trunk, perhaps seeking its next target.
The Cauliflower Pit Viper — highly venomous, with a broad diet: frogs, rodents, birds, eggs… even its own kind if food was scarce. In rich forests, it could grow to rival a python.
It clearly saw Qin Lang, but ignored him, continuing down lazily.
Whoosh!
A flash of red streaked past Qin Lang’s eyes, striking the trunk — blocking the snake’s path.
A blood-red mantis.
About ten centimeters long, it resembled a Chinese Giant Mantis in shape, but they were usually green or brown for camouflage. Bright red was no disguise — it was a warning. In nature, bright colors often screamed: I’m poisonous. Touch me and die.
From its stance, it meant business. It stood just ten centimeters from the snake’s head, scythe-like forearms raised, gleaming. The message was clear: If you want to pass, pay the toll.
The snake, insulted, flicked its tongue — it would taste mantis tonight.
Swish!
The serpent struck like a spring. Qin Lang sighed — admirable courage, but doomed.
Yes, mantises could kill small snakes or mice, but against a large serpent? Suicide.
Buzz!
Just before the snake’s jaws closed, the mantis flared its four wings, glowing crimson in the dawn. But it didn’t flee — its legs stayed clamped to the bark. The snake recoiled, eyes suddenly full of fear.
A drop fell onto Qin Lang’s cheek. Blood. Snake blood.
The viper’s eyes had been slashed, each bearing a two-centimeter cut — blinded in an instant.
Qin Lang’s scalp tingled. This mantis wasn’t just brave — it was lethal.
Blinded, the snake’s fear overwhelmed its fury. It tumbled from the trunk into the grass, fleeing blindly.
But the mantis didn’t let go. It darted forward, landing three inches behind the snake’s head, both scythes stabbing down. The blade tips pierced deep into the neck. The snake twitched a few times — then lay still.
“Three inches!” Qin Lang’s mind raced. Most knew to strike a snake’s “seven inches,” but the “three inches” — where the spine was weakest — was just as fatal, severing its nerve center instantly.
Victorious, the mantis stood atop the serpent’s head, wings stretching. Then, like a conqueror claiming spoils, it split the skull and began feeding on the brain.
“Truly, the world holds no shortage of wonders.”
He recalled a Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio story about a mantis slaying a snake — thinking it a tall tale. But here it was, before his eyes.
And then, a thought jolted him.
“Could this… be one of the ‘strange insects’ from the Poison Scripture?!”
