Chapter 457 - 15: Prestige (2)
Every time the snake's skin was pierced, the surrounding indigenous people erupted in cheers.
It was evident that the close combat with prey was ingrained in the genes of all humans, much like the bloody gladiator battles beloved by ancient Rome. Such one-on-one exhilarating hand-to-hand combat always managed to uplift spirits and excite people.
The giant snake was under both physical and psychological pressure, becoming increasingly agitated.
However, the more agitated it became, the more flaws it exposed, and the easier it was to get injured, creating a vicious cycle that worsened its injuries.
Had it not been for its large size and strong vitality, it might have died under Sunday's knife long ago.
This made Chen Zhou a little anxious; he wished he could replace Sunday and personally behead the giant snake.
Of course, this was a bit of "the emperor is not anxious, but the eunuch is" mindset. If it were him instead, the snake wouldn't survive a minute before being shot several times, and it certainly wouldn't struggle this long.
...
Although he was young, Sunday displayed a maturity beyond that of an adult in his battle with the giant snake.
His fighting style was like that of an ant colony, attaching himself to the snake, nibbling bit by bit to wear it down.
Only when the snake's powerful muscles were exhausted did he go inside for a fatal blow.
And this process didn't take long—
The snake's body sank lower and lower, until it could barely lift its head in the end.
Its body was covered with small eyelets poked out by Sunday's knife tip, and after slithering on the muddy ground for so long, the blood in the wounds mingled with the mud, dyeing its entire body a reddish-brown, making it look utterly miserable.
In fact, a few minutes earlier, the giant snake had thought of diving directly into the deep pool to escape.
But Sunday anticipated its intention and always blocked its escape route, waving his long saber and forcing the snake back to its original spot, awaiting its doom.
When it was exhausted to the point where even if it were allowed to escape, it might not make it, even if Sunday didn't block its position, the giant snake had no strength left to flee.
Despairingly coiled on the ground, facing Sunday's feints, the snake no longer reacted.
Its cloudy eyes seemed to be admiring the dance of a clown, yet this dance was filled with murderous intent.
No one knew how many attempts it took to strike, but when Chen Zhou could no longer guess if Sunday's attack was real or fake, Sunday darted forward, hands grasping the knife handle, directly plunging it into the snake's vitals.
The sharp tip of the long saber pierced the scales, burrowed into the snake's body like a hot knife through butter, and as Sunday pushed off the ground with force, it drove straight through to the other side of the snake's body in an unstoppable manner.
Chen Zhou didn't know if the stab accurately hit the snake's heart.
In any case, after Sunday made that strike, the snake never moved again.
Witnessing Sunday take down such a terrifying monster with just a knife, all the indigenous people erupted in cheers.
They shouted slogans in their native tongue like "Hero," "Warrior," and "Victory," overwhelmed with excitement.
...
In this almost feverish atmosphere, most people would be extremely proud after slaying a snake, becoming excessively boastful, even starting to flaunt their achievements.
This is understandable, after all, being able to slay a giant snake that no one had ever seen before is indeed something worth celebrating.
Especially for young people, who love to show off and boast during such times.
But Sunday was an exception.
During the battle, he remained exceptionally calm, and after the fight, he did not let the cheers of the indigenous people go to his head.
Returning to his expressionless self, he pulled out the long saber and, following the initial wound, cut around the snake's neck, severing the head.
He sheathed the long saber and, with both hands holding the bloody, dead-eyed head, walked straight to Chen Zhou, knelt on one knee, and placed the snake head at Chen Zhou's feet.
...
His action was like pouring a bucket of cold water on the fervent indigenous people.
Only then did they realize who their leader was, who truly held the power of life and death.
The sharpest indigenous people, seeing Sunday kneel, immediately followed suit, and although the others were a beat slower, they too quickly imitated and knelt down.
...
Looking at the snake head at his feet, the kneeling indigenous people, and the respectful Sunday in front of him, Chen Zhou showed little pleasure on his face.
He squinted slightly, examining the bowed Sunday, sweeping his gaze over the indigenous people, without saying a word.
In fact, just when the indigenous people began shouting in unison, Chen Zhou had felt a bit displeased.
He could allow his subordinates to shine, but not to overshadow him.
Establishing personal prestige in the minds of other indigenous people was even more taboo.
Chen Zhou couldn't guess people's minds; he didn't know if Sunday caused this situation by coincidence or premeditation, nor if Sunday harbored ulterior motives or if he himself was overly sensitive and suspicious.
At this moment, looking at the kneeling Sunday, he ultimately chose not to reveal his stance, merely nudging the snake head aside with his foot and pulling Sunday up.
...
When Sunday stood up, there was a childlike expression on his face of expecting a father's praise—
This naive, simple expression had never been seen by other indigenous people on his face before.
Taking in Sunday's expression, several thoughts flashed through Chen Zhou's mind in an instant.
Some thought Sunday was an "actor," intentionally showing this expression to prevent punishment;
Some believed Sunday was simple-minded and genuine in his emotions at the moment;
Some thought it was merely a coincidence, and Sunday had no ulterior motives;
The most extreme thought even urged Chen Zhou to kill Sunday on the spot, to transfer his established prestige onto himself, while intimidating the indigenous people to consolidate his rule.
His thoughts lingered among many ideas, but Chen Zhou ultimately chose to trust Sunday.
After spending over a year with this young indigenous boy, Chen Zhou had a sense of the personalities of Sunday and Saturday.
"The mixed flock of sheep and wild goats" and "the snake eating sheep" were all coincidences, impossible to be planned or organized events.
The act of killing the snake was clearly spontaneous, consistent with Sunday's long-standing nature—he was never good at concealing his true thoughts.
Chen Zhou felt that the fault lay more with the indigenous people than with Sunday.
If they hadn't pushed the atmosphere to that extent, the situation wouldn't have turned so awkward.
...
Patting Sunday on the shoulder for encouragement, Chen Zhou raised his hand, signaling the indigenous people to stand, then leveled his rifle, speaking softly to Sunday.
"Next time, don't use a knife, it's too dangerous.
Use this, it's simple, safe."
As he spoke, he took aim at the cut neck where the snake's head was severed, pulling the trigger.
At such close range, the accuracy of the Chen Family rifle was unquestionable, capable of hitting any target precisely.
The Mini Bullet roared out of the chamber, spinning through the rifling with a loud howl, crashing into the snake bones.
The giant snake's body jerked sideways as if kicked by some invisible monster, with the snake's spine shattered into countless pieces, scattering in all directions.
...
Chen Zhou spoke so quietly to Sunday that the indigenous people didn't hear a word; they only heard the sudden gunshot.
They watched as the snake's body was flung, shattered bones hitting the grass blades and embedding themselves into the mud.
The destructive power and mystery of the firearm were clearly greater than Sunday's feat of slaying the snake with a single knife.
To the indigenous people, nothing was more intimidating than the soul-shaking explosion of gunpowder.
The indigenous people weren't good at observing expressions and lacked the capacity for analysis and thinking compared to modern people.
They didn't realize they had violated a taboo, angering the leader, and stood dumbfounded after hearing the gunshot, as if their souls had been scared out by the sound.
This lack of awareness left Chen Zhou amused and confused, unsure whether to be angry or to forgive these clumsy "dumb pumpkins."
...
"Tell them to light the torches and work through the night to cut down all these grasses and find the remaining lost sheep.
Not a single blade left uncut, no food or sleep until it's done, you'll supervise."
After a moment of silence, Chen Zhou holstered his gun, maintaining a stern demeanor, leaving Sunday with a sentence.
He then turned and walked away from the deep pond, without looking at the snake's head or the muddy corpse.