A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 1

“You’ve got to be kidding. Didn’t we just do a mental cleansing yesterday? You want another one today?”

The frantic voice of a young man suddenly shattered the silence of the hospital.

Standing in the corridor was a black-haired youth dressed in a crisp uniform. He wasn’t exceptionally tall, but his proportions were perfect, giving him a lean waist and long, elegant legs.

At the moment, he was running his fingers through his once-smooth hair until it looked like a bird’s nest. His face was a mask of conflict, his brows knitted tightly together.

“Shh,” the Guide Physician beside him whispered, a small smile playing on her lips as she raised a finger to her mouth. “No shouting in the hospital, please.”

“But this is a temp job turning into a permanent one!” the youth hissed, lowering his volume to a miserable groan. “Do I really have to look after him forever?”

The doctor let out a soft chuckle and took a sip of hot water from her mug.

“Well, student Guanyue Xi, who told you to go and pick up a Sentinel with such a narrow mental compatibility range? You just so happen to be the perfect match. You’re the only one here who can handle him.”

The youth—Guanyue Xi—looked like he was wearing a “mask of pain.”

“I didn’t even study this hard back when I was cramming for my Mental Soothing exams… and I’m a Combat-type Guide!”

“Isn’t that perfect? Mental restoration is a compulsory course for every Guide. There’s no harm in mastering it—think of it as a wonderful hands-on internship opportunity.”

Guanyue Xi: “…”

“Besides, since your compatibility is so high, even if you are a Combat-type, you could probably patch up his mental walls with your eyes closed.”

“It’s exhausting, okay? How is this any different from Goddess Nüwa trying to patch up the sky?”

“There’s no other way. You know as well as I do that current medication can only supplement treatment. When it comes to a Sentinel’s mental realm, it always comes down to the Guide in the end.” The doctor shrugged. “You’ll just have to work on your restoration techniques.”

“And how long is this going to take?”

“No idea. Depends on his luck and your skill.”

Guanyue Xi: “?”

“By the way, I heard a rumour that he actually saved your life out there?” the doctor asked, leaning in for a bit of gossip.

Guanyue Xi’s expression turned solemn. “That… is true.”

Through the glass window of the ward, the faint outline of a tall, grey-haired Sentinel could be seen lying motionless on the bed.

This was a specialized ward designed for Sentinels—reinforced fixtures, soundproof walls, and a 24-hour loop of white noise featuring the gentle bubbling of a brook. Even the lighting was a soft, infinitely adjustable glow, all designed to accommodate their hypersensitive five senses.

He had been placed here for one reason: this grey-haired Sentinel’s mental realm was as fragile as tissue paper. Any external pressure could shatter that thin barrier, leading to death—or, to put it more poetically, a fall into the “Mental Black Hole.”

Guanyue Xi recalled the state he had found the man in a few days ago and sighed. “Well, if he survived all that, it would be a real shame if he ended up dying by my hand instead.”

The doctor clapped her hands together. “Good luck, then. His physical stats aren’t bad either, so you aren’t exactly losing out here.”

“That’s not exactly the point!” Guanyue Xi muttered. “Fine, I’m going in.”

“Off you go,” the doctor said, waving him off.

The black-haired Guide softened his footsteps as he entered the ward.

Aside from the sound of running water, the only thing audible was the Sentinel’s ragged, uneasy breathing. Even in the dim light, Guanyue Xi could see the dark circles under the man’s eyes and his messy grey hair. Even unconscious, his face was set in a frown, looking deeply unsettled.

“I really must owe you one,” Guanyue Xi whispered under his breath.

He brushed away the stray hairs blocking the Sentinel’s face, placed his hand against the man’s forehead, and closed his eyes.

It all began a few days ago.

Inside a small, humming mechanical airship, ten candidates sat in silence. Seated closest to the hatch was a striking young man with long black hair tied back in a ponytail and a black choker around his neck. He was peering through a small porthole at the landscape below, looking slightly bored. His natural “smiling lips” gave him an air of effortless composure.

A camera glowed with a steady red light, faithfully recording every move the candidates made.

“Candidate Guanyue Xi, Student ID 305089760. If your information is correct, please verify your handprint at the designated location.”

A calm, electronic female voice suddenly filled the cabin.

“Candidates are forbidden from carrying items unrelated to the exam. Only standard supply packs are permitted. If you feel unwell or encounter an emergency during the exam, please contact the Academic Affairs Office immediately.”

“The exam is precious, but life is more valuable. The pre-exam briefing is now complete.”

“Candidate, please exit the cabin within two minutes of the signal.”

Hearing his name, the youth stood up and pressed his palm against a small screen next to the hatch. A green light scanned his prints, and the door hissed open.

“Identity verified. Guide Guanyue Xi, we wish you success in your exam.”

The howling winds from ten thousand metres up tossed his hair and made everyone’s clothes flutter violently. The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue.

Beep—

The electronic signal trailed off into a long note.

Guanyue Xi gave a small smile, spread his arms, and dived out into the void.

The Tower’s graduation assessment was divided into two parts: a written exam and a large-scale practical. The former ensured the graduates wouldn’t accidentally kill themselves through sheer ignorance; the practical was the real ordeal.

The moment a candidate dropped from the airship, the clock started ticking.

The wind was fierce. As soon as he jumped, Guanyue Xi began to plummet. A powerful sense of weightlessness flooded his body, but after a second or two, he adjusted, feeling only the wind pushing back against him.

The sky was below, the earth above. After a single mid-air roll, it felt as if he were the only person left in the world.

The system’s electronic voice reported his altitude through his earpiece in real-time.

“9,000 metres.”

“8,000 metres.”

“7,000 metres.”

He remained as calm as if he had rehearsed this a thousand times. After a few dozen seconds of freefall, he pulled the ripcord. The rapid descent was yanked back, and his body was jerked upward before he began to drift slowly toward the ground.

Looking through his goggles with clear, grey-blue eyes, he saw nothing but dense forest beneath him.

Guanyue Xi arched an eyebrow.

“Tsk, not exactly lucky, am I?”

Looking around, there wasn’t a single clear spot to land. The hardest part of skydiving isn’t the jump itself, but landing safely.

He tried his best to steer, but the primeval forest was too vast. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut and plunged straight into the canopy. The interlacing branches hit him with enough force to make his vision swim. He felt sharp scrapes all over his body and heard the continuous crack of breaking wood. Finally, his parachute snagged, leaving him dangling mid-air, swaying gently.

After a long moment, he gingerly opened one eye, then the other, and hissed through his teeth.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow…”

Everything hurt—his thighs, his back, his rear. His clothes were torn in several places, and he could taste copper in his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he’d bitten his lip or sustained internal bruising, but at least he hadn’t broken any bones.

No one loves me, so I come to a graduation exam; now the exam is over and everything hurts.

The Guide let out a long sigh, but before he could finish, a faint “hissing” sound reached his ears—as if it were coming from inside his own head.

Guanyue Xi clutched his head.

“Stop laughing inside my mental realm!”

“…”

Guanyue Xi snapped: “If you think you’re so smart, you try it!”

“…”

“If you can’t do it, then shut up!”

He argued with himself or so it appeared to any onlooker—for a while before testing his limbs and looking down to judge the distance.

Not too high, he decided.

He drew a dagger from his thigh, cleanly sliced the parachute cords, and landed on all fours like a cat, rolling to dissipate the force. He stood up, brushed the dirt from his clothes, and gave himself a smug thumbs-up.

“With physical stats and skills like these, a Guide gives a Sentinel a run for their money.”

Now that he was on the ground, the senses that had been numbed by the impact sharpened again. The scent of damp earth filled his lungs.

“It’s all just… green. This is going to be so easy to get lost in.”

He looked around and knelt to tighten his boots and trouser cuffs.

In this primeval forest on a desolate planet in a remote star system, there was no telling what unknown creatures lurked. If he got bitten by a venomous insect now, he could kiss his graduation goodbye and just wait to be “boxed up” on the spot.

“Well, at least it’s better than the desert they used two years ago.”

Guanyue Xi’s mouth twitched at the thought. According to the seniors, that desert had no water, was crawling with lizard monsters, and hit 60°C during the day only to drop to -20°C at night. It was a cycle of being roasted and then flash-frozen a fresh, delicious human jerky.

Here, at least, there were no signs of high-intelligence life. The planet was covered in vast forests with a few mountains and lakes. The climate was similar to a temperate broadleaf forest, and there was even breathable oxygen.

For the past few days, Guanyue Xi had been strategizing. He was a Combat Guide, which meant he lacked a Sentinel’s superhuman physical traits—like jumping three metres high or staying alert for days on end. In a primitive place like this, surviving for a week while completing collection tasks meant his mental powers wouldn’t be as useful as usual.

The only consolation was that his Spirit Body was a rarity among Guides: it was highly aggressive. He could hold his own against most beasts, though the Spirit’s personality was another story…

He decided to release it from his mental realm.

A blackish-green snake materialized on the grass. Its scales shimmered in the sunlight, and its coffin-shaped head and pitch-black pupils embodied the lethal beauty of a cold-blooded predator. It was one of the deadliest snakes in existence—the Black Mamba. It raised its head, tasted the air, and let out a dissatisfied “hiss” at the drop in temperature.

“What? I’m the one taking the exam, you have to do your part too.”

Guanyue Xi gestured for the snake to scout ahead.

“Go on. If you do this, I’ll forget about the way you were mocking me earlier.”

The snake looked at him for a moment, slithered forward a few inches, and then stopped dead.

“…”

“Hey?”

“Hello?”

“Earth to snake!”

The snake didn’t budge.

Guanyue Xi picked up the limp “noodle” and gave it a shake.

“Don’t play dead with me! Is it because it’s cold? Can’t you just suck it up for a bit?”

“Think about it—when I graduate with honours, I’ll hang your photo on the wall. How does that sound?”

The snake looked at him with utter disdain. What use does a Spirit Body have for a photo?

Seeing that wasn’t working, Guanyue Xi tried another tactic.

“Has your salary gone up lately? Have you been working hard?”

“…”

The snake didn’t understand, and it certainly wasn’t listening.

With a sigh of resignation, Guanyue Xi stuffed the Black Mamba back into his mental realm and set off on his own. Aren’t Spirit Bodies supposed to reflect their master’s personality? Why is mine like this?

With thousands of candidates scattered across the planet, the chances of running into someone else were slim. He figured his best bet was to find a water source; maybe he could team up with someone there.

“Ugh, if only that Black Mamba would actually look for a path.”

He took a few steps, lost in thought. I’ll head toward the valley first. Usually…

Before he could finish the thought, his next step hit empty air. He didn’t even have time to scream before the ground gave way, and he tumbled into a dark pit.

He rolled several times down a slope before coming to a stop, covered in dirt and lying there in a daze.

“Holy… hell…”

After a long moment, he regained his senses and let out a string of curses. It turned out the ground, hidden under a thick layer of fallen leaves, had collapsed.

He yanked the snake back out of his mental realm.

“So you didn’t stop because you were cold… you stopped because there was a hole in the ground??”