Chapter 7: The Breaking Point

Huǐ Yuān awoke to the faint drip of water echoing in the cave. His body felt heavy, his scales stiff and cold against the damp stone floor. The remnants of last night's kill—a small lizard—lay scattered in the dirt, its brittle bones picked clean. The warmth in his core pulsed faintly, a dim ember compared to the gnawing hunger in his belly.

*Again.*

He uncoiled slowly, hissing as his wounds protested. The forest outside was quiet, dawn's pale light filtering through the canopy. But to Huǐ Yuān, it was a map of flickering lights. Life forces glowed around him—mice burrowing, beetles skittering, birds preening in the branches. Each a potential meal. Each a step toward survival.

*No. Not survival. More.*

The thought surprised him. He didn't just want to live. He wanted to *thrive*. To claw his way out of this nightmare. To become something that couldn't be cornered by a rabbit, couldn't be reduced to hiding in caves.

*But first, I eat.*

Huǐ Yuān slithered out of the cave, his tongue flicking out to taste the air. The forest floor was damp, the scent of moss and decaying leaves thick in his nostrils. A faint pulse of yellow drew his attention—a frog basking on a sunlit rock. Its life force was weak, barely a spark, but it was close.

*Ten inches. Downwind. Slow heartbeat.*

He moved cautiously, his scales brushing silently against the damp soil. The frog's throat pulsed as it croaked, oblivious. Huǐ Yuān's coils tightened, muscles coiling like springs.

*Wait. Wait.*

When the frog turned to snap at a fly, he struck. Fangs sank into its hind leg, venom flooding its veins. The creature spasmed once, then stilled.

*Too easy.*

As the warmth flowed into him, he felt nothing. No satisfaction. No relief. Just the cold calculus of survival.

*Why isn't this enough?*

He swallowed the frog whole, its body stretching his jaws uncomfortably. The energy pooled in his core, a meager trickle.

*Need more.*

Huǐ Yuān moved deeper into the forest, his senses sharp. The faint chirping of birds drew him toward a clearing. A sparrow fluttered down to drink from a puddle, its life force a bright, fluttering blue.

*Too fast. Too alert.*

But he was learning. He waited until the bird dipped its beak, then struck not at the body, but at the reflection in the water. The sparrow startled, wings flapping wildly—straight into his waiting jaws.

*Got you.*

The bird's frantic struggles sent feathers flying, but his venom worked swiftly. Its life force surged into him, brighter than the frog's, and for a moment, he felt a flicker of triumph.

*Better.*

But as he swallowed, the memory of his sister's laughter echoed in his mind. She'd kept a songbird in a cage once, its chirps filling their tiny apartment.

*"Let it go," he'd told her. "It doesn't belong here."*

Now he was the cage.

*Shut up. Shut up.*

He crushed the thought, slithering away before the blood scent drew larger predators.

The lizard was larger, its life force a steady green pulse. It sunned itself on a boulder, tail twitching. Huǐ Yuān circled beneath the rock, calculating.

*Climb. Strike from below.*

His claws—tiny, barely-there hooks on his scales—dug into the stone. He inched upward, his body trembling with effort. The lizard's tongue flicked out, sensing danger too late.

Huǐ Yuān lunged, fangs sinking into its throat. The lizard thrashed, claws raking his underbelly, but he held on. Venom surged, and the warmth flooded him, richer, hotter.

*Yes.*

He devoured it greedily, the energy mending his wounds as fast as the lizard's claws tore them. When he finished, his scales gleamed brighter, his body thicker, stronger.

*Why can't I go back?*

The question came unbidden. He'd been human once. Loved. Laughed. Now he was *this*—a monster in the dirt, gorging on scraps.

*This isn't fair.*

Anger simmered in his gut, hotter than the energy in his core.

He sensed a stream cut through the forest, its waters icy and clear. Huǐ Yuān tasted the air—fish, their silver life forces darting beneath the surface.

*Too fast. Too slippery.*

But he was done playing cautious. He plunged into the water, his body coiling around a trout before it could flee. The fish thrashed, slamming him against rocks, but he refused to let go. Venom seeped into its gills, and the warmth surged, electric and intoxicating.

*More. MORE.*

He dragged the fish ashore, tearing into its flesh with a ferocity that startled even him. Scales and blood coated his jaws, but he didn't care.

*Why me? Why did I end up like this?*

Memories flashed—his cousin's smirk as he handed him the poisoned wine, his grandparents' screams as he collapsed.

*I should be dead. I* ***am*** *dead. This is hell.*

The energy in his core boiled, a storm begging to be unleashed.

He found it in a sunlit clearing—another tree snake, smaller, younger. Its life force glowed soft gold, untainted by rage or regret.

*Prey.*

Huǐ Yuān didn't hesitate. He struck before it could flee, fangs sinking into its skull. The snake writhed, its venom useless against his own.

*You're weak. Just like me.*

As its energy flooded him, he felt a perverse kinship. This was what he'd become. A thing that devoured its own kind to survive.

*Is this all I am?*

The warmth in his core burned white-hot, searing his insides. His scales cracked, his body convulsing as energy overflowed.

*Stop. STOP.*

But it was too late. Something *snapped*.

Pain exploded through him, his vision fracturing into shards of light. His body twisted, scales sloughing off as new ones erupted beneath. The forest blurred—colors brighter, scents sharper, the pulse of life forces deafening.

*What's happening to me?*

When the agony subsided, he lay gasping...