Boiling Gu Powder

The attacks of the Phoenix-crowned Blood Python grew ever more ferocious, so swift that even Yu Yunfan struggled to keep pace. Song Qiuling, crouched nearby, had long since exhausted her strength; her face was pale as she watched for stray stones and splintered branches whirling dangerously close. Her clear eyes remained fixed on the youth before her, clad in black, the shock evident upon her face. That he, at the seventh realm of Qi Refinement, could forcibly contend against a ninth realm beast—and, in several moments where the python’s tail nearly struck her, still spare the attention to rescue her from peril—proved his true strength far exceeded her own.

Yet even so, Song Qiuling could not hide her gloom. She clutched the last three Evil Spirit Pills in her hand; she had already used three in her hour of need, which had finally inflicted some damage on the python’s formidable body. Now she regretted not retrieving the few extra pills that she had tricked out of her father—never imagining she would be thrust into such a dire situation.

She gazed at the youth and sighed deeply. The seventh realm was, after all, only the seventh realm, and beasts—even at the same realm—were far stronger than human cultivators. A ninth realm beast was in a league of its own; soon, both she and this youth would surely meet their end.

For some reason, in such a desperate moment, her thoughts wandered to that shameless smile, uncertain whether he and her brother had escaped danger. If she survived, she mused, she would hang that rascal up for a beating. If not for him, none of them would have landed in this predicament.

As for her so-called cousin, truth be told, Song Qiuling had little impression of him. The Song family’s relations were intricate, and she had spent her childhood cultivating in the inner court, rarely encountering outsiders. Only her brother, with his sociable nature, could keep track of all these distant relatives.

Except, of course, for that scoundrel—he was all too familiar, a notorious flirt, annoying as sticky candy, impossible to shake off.

Up ahead, Yu Yunfan eyed the Phoenix-crowned Blood Python, scanning the surroundings to confirm there was no one but Song Qiuling behind him. He glanced at her, then dismissed her presence, his gaze growing cold. In a sudden surge, his spiritual energy erupted fully, momentarily suppressing the python. His jet-black hair billowed in the wind, dark spiritual energy visibly swirling around him, and the small black cauldron at his side flickered in and out of sight, as if casting overlapping shadows that wrapped around him.

The python, confronted by the youth, felt an inexplicable fear stir in its heart. Instinct screamed that this person was dangerous—extremely dangerous—and urged it to flee.

Song Qiuling’s eyes widened in alarm; whatever the youth had done, the aura he exuded now far surpassed the ninth realm of Qi Refinement—approaching the Foundation Establishment realm.

His hair flew wildly, his fitted clothes shuddered with the force of his spiritual energy, and the cold indifference in his gaze seemed to disdain all things. His handsome face and aloof demeanor eclipsed everything around him.

She watched as the tips of Yu Yunfan’s hair turned snow-white, the shadow of the small black cauldron grew clearer, his power steadily mounting. Yet in that instant, a subtle ripple flashed in his otherwise unapproachable eyes—he looked past the python, where a furtive figure flickered through the dust and smoke. His brows furrowed, and then—on his eternally cold face—a faint smile appeared, a glimmer returning to his eyes.

His hair instantly returned to its black hue, the cauldron stabilized, and his aura resumed its former state, calm and unhurried, which only puzzled Song Qiuling.

She saw Yu Yunfan once more struggle to wield the cauldron against wave after wave of the python’s attacks, yet now a faint smile lingered on his lips—something she had not seen before.

At first, Song Qiuling thought he was about to reveal some hidden trump card, but scarcely a moment later, he reverted to his usual exhausted state, still smiling foolishly. Song Qiuling was utterly baffled.

Three seconds of true heroism, she thought wryly.

Elsewhere, that furtive figure crept quietly behind the Phoenix-crowned Blood Python, edging toward a corpse. Fortunately, the body had not been pulverized by the falling stones or shattered by the chaos.

Yu Daoyi knew time was of the essence, exerting every ounce of his strength.

He muttered to himself, "You can’t see me, you can’t see me, I’m invisible, I’m your brother. As long as I keep chanting, you’ll be blind."

His mind had never run along normal tracks.

Luckily, he was only struck by a few moderately sized stones on the head, a few broken branches on his body, blinded by swirling dust, and tossed about by the sudden gusts.

Damn it—being weak is a crime against heaven!

But at least the python hadn’t noticed him. When he reached the corpse, he frowned and, without ceremony, rifled through its clothes and trousers, searching...

Ahem, only the first two steps, like a beast with a hint of reason.

The corpse was covered in wounds, the blood long since dried. Though injuries were visible, none were fatal. Beneath the throat, above the chest, a patch of dark black revealed poison—enough to kill, well concealed and only detectable after removing clothing.

Yet the Phoenix-crowned Blood Python, unlike other serpents, possessed no venom.

"Boiling Gu Powder," Yu Daoyi murmured, squinting, then pried open the corpse’s mouth for inspection. A cold smile tugged at his lips, his gaze icy as he bowed his head in thought.

After a moment’s deliberation, he shoved three Evil Spirit Pills into the corpse’s mouth, hoisting it onto his back. With a series of daring maneuvers, he edged closer to the python, wary and careful.

A pity there was no coffin, nor background music—otherwise, with his flamboyant moves...

He grinned: "With the coffin raised, life and death are uncertain; the world is just borrowed."

After much effort, Yu Daoyi finally managed to slip near the python. Song Qiuling, crouched nearby, spotted this dust-covered, furtive figure.

What rubbish is this? she thought, her disdain for the scoundrel as strong as ever.

Wait—oh, it’s him. Well, nothing’s changed, still annoying.

Yet seeing him appear in this chaos, Song Qiuling’s feelings stirred. For him to come here now, she must reconsider her opinion.

This guy’s brain is definitely defective!

At a time like this—did he come to die? Not only did he bring himself, he carried another body. Did he think the python would be hungry with just two? Or that two people would be too lonely, so he’d join them?

Song Qiuling was a whirlwind of emotions, her bright gaze fixed on him.

Yu Daoyi’s eyes locked forward, finally meeting Yu Yunfan’s gaze. Years of brotherly understanding manifested in that instant.

"You do this first," he gestured.

"..."

"Then I’ll do that."

"..."

"And finally, we’ll do that together."

"..."

The two brothers exchanged glances, Yu Yunfan watching his brother, not far away, winking and nodding as if immensely satisfied with his own performance—like an idiot. Yu Yunfan felt utterly drained.

What was he trying to express? The python couldn’t understand human language! Why not just say it outright?

Besides, this routine seemed strangely familiar.

Meanwhile, the Phoenix-crowned Blood Python, no fool itself, suddenly noticed a small platter—a literal appetizer—beneath it.

The python turned, opening its bloody maw, fangs dripping with viscous saliva, and lunged at the unappetizing snack.

It carried another on its back—its dim mind told it, "Eat them both together."

Double the food, double the pleasure, buy one get one free.

None of those who had provoked it would escape!