Chapter Text
If Luo Binghe was going to be the Head Disciple of Huan Hua Palace, he needed to know how every corner of it worked. Should he succeed, he needed to know what resources he would have at his disposal and what kind of knowledge and capabilities his fellow disciples (future subordinates) were working with. Should this come to a fight, however, he needed to know everything that could be used against him.
So, he found himself walking down a steep flight of stairs with a line of other golden-robed students, led by an elderly non-cultivator, Zheng Da, with the dubious title of “Head Venom Milker.” He’d said he preferred “Venomous Beast Keeper”, but it was clear which one was most memorable.
If his future weren’t at stake, he would have preferred not to find out how to milk a snake—whatever the hell that meant—but that’s how life was. You suck it up and do what’s necessary or you die.
The disciples all formed a gaudy golden pool at the foot of the stairs while the Head Venom-Milk Man darted around his workshop and turned on all the lanterns. Once he was done, he came back around and closed the door behind them, making the room feel just that much smaller.
Their teacher had many scars on his hands, one of his spectacle lenses was cracked, and he was quite pale from spending so much time down in these basements, but he gave the touring class a wide and shining smile.
“Welcome, welcome!” He crowed. He had a high, thin voice with a kindly tone. “Are there any questions before we start?”
Someone coughed. Luo Binghe looked around and saw that three of the four walls were completely covered in drawers. There were absolutely no cages, and the only door was the one he’d come through. Where were the animals?
“Alright, let's begin. We have many specimens that we keep here at the venom farm,” their teacher began, gesturing to the drawers and sounding a little put out with the crowd’s lack of enthusiasm, “although many venoms have medicinal applications, most of these creatures are quite dangerous.”
The crowd shifted uncomfortably as they realized that this was it, they were already in the same room as hundreds of spiders. Their teacher went on,
“It’s important for any physician to have a good stock of antidotes ready at hand, but antivenom is made directly from the venom itself—which is dangerous and impractical to gather in the wild. So, we need a steady supply to keep a good stock around the palace and turn a profit. Come, come, look here,” He walked around the stone counter in the center of the room, then laid his hand on the north wall of drawers. The ones at the top looked small enough to hold a pair of children’s shoes, growing larger as they went down until the drawers on the bottom row could hold a person (if curled tightly enough). “Who can tell me what we keep in these drawers?”
A young woman spoke first. “Tools?”
Zheng Da shook his head with a smile. “No, those would be behind you. Look to the walls by the door, everyone.” He gestured to the south wall. Luo Binghe obliged and found a number of strange tools hung on the walls: many silver rods with a handle on one end and varying working ends. Some were hooks, other were crescents, some had bulbous or flat heads. Long scaled gloves were hung between the racks at regular intervals. Below these tool racks were more sets of drawers with several beakers, vials, and sheets of something thin, pale, and pliable set upon them.
“We keep the tools close to the door in case we walk in on something loose, that way we can prepare to handle it as quickly as possible—if anyone wants to help handle anything today, feel free to put on a set of gloves now.”
Luo Binghe and the young woman from earlier grabbed gloves, which felt like the hide of some thick-skinned lizard. They had great craftsmanship, taking care not to compromise on dexterity or safety. He couldn’t imagine any pair of fangs getting through these.
Seeing now that he had only two takers, the old man sighed, the sound of a scholar disappointed yet grateful to have any volunteers at all. He took a pair as well and slid them on with practiced ease. “Very good, very good. I’ll be sure to mark you two down for extra credit; Chen Li, Luo Binghe.”
The mention of extra credit caused some more students move to the gloves, making the teacher huff a laugh. “… Which I’ll provide on participation. These two were first to volunteer, so they’ll be first selected for any demonstrations. You might have to stay after class for more opportunities.”
You might as well have told the late adoptees they would be executed at dusk. Luo Binghe held in his laugh and sent them a sympathetic smile.
“Now, who else wants to guess what’s in here?” Their teacher grinned and laid a gloved hand on the north drawers again. Luo Binghe took a good look. They were made of a light wood with only a hair of clearance between the drawer and its frame. Each had an engraved golden plate, a curved golden handle, and a small pearl knob below it. To either side of the handle were three small holes, as if to let air in.
“Spiders?” A trembling young boy asked.
“Good guess!” Zheng Da praised. “But this is not where we keep our arachnid specimens, those are in the wall to your right.” Luo Binghe glanced over at the east wall, which kept many more drawers. The biggest at the bottom were the size of a suitcase, and each had a wire mesh window to look inside, though some were white from webbing. The west wall was identical, except for the lack of webs. Those must carry other types of insects. That left only one possibility, and the most obvious one at that.
Luo Binghe, though certain, still phrased it like a question. “Do they contain snakes, Shishu?”
Their teacher beamed. “Yes! My favorite animals, in fact. Oh, don’t make those faces. Now then, who shall we bring out for our lesson?” He turned his back to the class and started squinting at the labels. “The Red Widow Serpent? A Blue-Fanged Death?” He looked over his shoulder with a mischievous glint to his eye. “How brave are we feeling today, class?”
Someone pressed their back against the door. A girl whimpered. Luo Binghe looked at his fellow volunteer, Chen Li, only to find her eyes shining with excitement, her fists balled up under her chin.
Finally, Zheng Da waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, you all seem like a courageous bunch. Let’s bring my favorite out first, hm?”
That didn’t bode well. Luo Binghe was already mentally preparing for the tedium of pretending to be sick should he get bitten, while whispers full of fear and anticipation went through the rest of class as their teacher pulled on the pearl of a drawer in the middle of the wall. A pair of thin gold chains came sliding out, which went taut at the same time there was a dull thump against wood. He used his other hand to pull the drawer open. Still keeping the chain fully extended, he reached in, held something down, and only then let go of the knob to reach his other hand inside.
“This is the rarest specimen of our collection. A Heart’s Truth Viper Demon!”
Much of the excitement fled Chen Li at once. “A demonic beast?” She asked.
Their teacher fiddled with something, a bit more chain slid out of the drawer face, and then he finally turned around and spread his arms to display the snake, as if showing off a particularly fine silk scarf. The creature wrapped a bit of tail around the old man’s wrist, tensed its middle, and did its best to look at the class from the grip their teacher had just behind the skull. It about the length of Luo Binghe’s armspan, though it was only as wide as his wrist at its thickest point. Its scales were such a light shade of green it was nearly white, with a peach-blossom underbelly and soft purple markings. Luo Binghe could see two gold rings on it: one cinching its mouth tightly shut with an eyelet just above the nose, the other pierced directly through the tip of its tail. He suddenly had no questions about where those two chains had been attached.
Zheng Da answered Chen Li, “Yes and no. This one isn’t just a beast—we captured it in humanoid form. The ring in its tail seals it into its beast form for easier handling.”
That’s a person?! Luo Binghe’s eyes widened, though he managed to mask it as a young scholar’s curiosity. Chen Li took a step back with naked horror on her face.
“An actual demon?” She whispered. Despite the churning of his stomach, Luo Binghe put a hand on her shoulder and gave her an encouraging look. He made sure to put plenty of warmth and kindness into his eyes.
“Don’t be scared, just look at it. Zheng-Shishu’s handled that things hundreds of times.” He soothed.
She flashed a wan smile at him, but didn’t step forward again. “How was it captured?” She asked. Luo Binghe looked back at his teacher. He was interested too.
Zheng Da seemed pleased with the question. “It’s an interesting story! Luo Binghe, would you come and hold it while I get the collector ready?” Luo Binghe stepped forward uncertainly, but held out his hands all the same. Zheng Da smiled and held out the snake—the demon—for Luo Binghe to take. “Firm enough to keep it from slithering off, gentle enough not to bruise it. Excellent, exactly like that. Now,”
Zheng Da let go and walked to the tool racks, leaving Luo Binghe with an armful of… his own kind, really. The snake was finally able to turn its head freely and look at Binghe. It flicked its black tongue, gently wrapped the extra length of its body around his wrist, and settled its head on his knuckles. Luo Binghe couldn’t break eye-contact as he tried to process the implications of the situation and listen to his teacher at the same time.
“The potency and effects of a Heart’s Truth Viper Demon depends entirely on its emotional state. Some of these effects can even be medicinal in controlled doses; contentment is a muscle relaxant, for instance.” The snake nuzzled against Binghe’s hand and flicked its tongue again. “Any of these effects, however, can be deadly if the emotion is too strong. This one has the strongest venom ever recorded in such a creature.”
Their teacher gathered a large glass beaker, some string, and one of the pale sheets from the tool-wall. As he spoke, he brought them over to the central table before Binghe, laid the sheet over the mouth of the beaker, and began to tie it place with the twine. “Five years ago, this one captured our attention when it poisoned the water supply of an entire village. It’s unknown how exactly it happened. Being a demon, it very well could have been on purpose, though the Qiong Ding cultivators who captured it mentioned “evidence of water contamination from improper waste disposal.” You could argue such negligence is purposeful in its own right. Accident or not, those living downriver from its lair were dropping dead right at its banks.”
Luo Binghe met the snake’s stare with a cold frown and tightened his fist. Finally, it turned away and loosened its hold on Binghe’s arm to better coil around itself. Luo Binghe’s fist completely disappeared in the bundle of snake.
“So… it’s never actually bitten anyone?” Chen Li asked, stepping closer. Zheng Da bowed his head.
“Good catch, shimei. Correct. We didn’t find any bite marks on the deceased, and it’s never attempted to bite any humans during feedings or milking. That’s why I take it out for demonstrations. Despite its history—and its venom of choice—it’s actually quite docile.”
Luo Binghe beat Chen Li to the obvious question. “Venom of choice? They can choose?”
Zheng Da’s face lit up again. “Yes, fascinating, isn’t it? Much like how a bad memory can leave us feeling dour—” Made sense. “—Or we can draw on happy memories to cheer us up—” Couldn’t relate. “—These vipers learn to draw on experiences that evoke the desired effect in their venom. It’s actually quite common for the parents of this species to leave their young in dangerous places in hopes of weeding out the weak and giving the survivors a potent life-or-death experience, which can create deadly venom they can draw on in a moment’s notice.” Ah, he could relate again. Luo Binghe loosened his grip just a little. Chen Li cooed sympathetically.
“Poor things.”
Zheng Da’s face darkened. “Your sympathy is commendable, but it’s dangerous to put human emotions and motivations on inhuman creatures, shimei. This is a demon, not a person.” The viper whipped its head around to glare at its keeper, neck drawn back in an indignant pose. The old man ignored it and beckoned Luo Binghe closer.
“It’s time to extract the venom.”
This close, he could see that the sheet was some kind of animal membrane, like finely scraped hide or intestinal lining, drawn tight over the rim like a drum. Zheng Da reached out and tapped the ring holding the viper’s mouth closed, making it click open with a spark of qi and fall to the table. It left behind a clear indentation in the skin. Luo Binghe moved to grab it behind the head, the snake flinched, and Zheng shooed Luo Binghe’s free hand away.
“As a reward for ongoing good behavior, we can give it this little freedom.” He pushed the beaker a bit closer to the snake, who dutifully opened its mouth wide and sunk its fangs into the membrane. It was so slow and purposeful that it could barely be called a bite, but something about the motion and the pressure of the membrane against its mouth made dark and steaming slime stream out of its fang-tips and streak down the side of the glass. It looked like congealing blood, save for the oily sheen.
“What if it bites someone?” Luo Binghe insisted, his hand tensed and ready to crush the thing.
Zheng Da looked to be regretting his decision to let Luo Binghe handle his prize specimen and rushed to explain, “It may not be a person, but it’s not quite a wild animal either. It can understand human speech, such as promises and threats. Even if it didn’t, it’s intelligent enough to know one bite is all it could manage before someone else catches it, but then it would be marked for culling upon replacement. That would take a while, however.” Zheng Da reached out to pet a finger along the demon’s head. Its entire body stiffened around Luo Binghe’s hand the second he made contact. “In the meantime, we would only need to keep it healthy enough to produce more venom, but that’s a low bar, especially for demons.”
This, oddly enough, gave several students enough courage to approach the table and actually observe the lesson, leading to many more curious eyes on the viper.
They’ve only gotten closer because they know it won’t fight back. Luo Binghe held himself back from glaring at them, and instead looked at the valley around the viper’s snout, the ring piercing through its tail, the drawer it was pulled out of. From here he could see there was a layer of sand inside (probably to make cleaning the box easier), but nothing else. He exchanged an uneasy look with Chen Li.
“Forgive me, Shishu, but doesn’t its current enclosure seem punishing already?” She asked.
“You’re anthropomorphizing again, shimei, but I see where the misunderstanding comes from. Its current enclosure is designed for easy access, but as long as it’s warm and they can move around, snakes like small dark spaces! It’s similar to their dens in nature.” Just as the flow of venom was trickling to a stop, Zheng Da pressed his finger down on its snout to encourage a fresh burst. “This is quite the merciful fate for a killer.”
It wasn’t important. Now Luo Binghe knew another weapon Huan Hua palace possessed: an endless supply of several rare and exotic poisons, all of which he was immune to. Perhaps he could do some research on the various venom effects to see if this demon could be of future use to him, but there was no immediate need to invest time and energy into something like that.
He watched as Zheng Da closed the ring back around the demon’s mouth and pulled it out of his arms. The demon tightened its wrap around his arm, as if reluctant to let go, and stared at Luo Binghe the entire time Zheng Da was clipping the chains back in place and lowering it into the drawer—was it giving him puppy-dog eyes? How was that possible?
Luo Binghe decided to spare one night to this passing interest. If nothing else, he wanted to know exactly how one ‘accidentally’ poisons an entire river.