Chapter Forty-Three: I Want You Back!

In the end, Song Qiuling managed to devour an entire grilled fish, leaving nothing behind. With a cold snort at Yu Daoyi, she found a tree and settled beneath it for a nap.

Yu Daoyi smiled faintly at the scene—he had survived, after all.

With a cheerful grin, he beckoned Song Cheng and led him toward a small grove. Don’t ask; if you must, it’s just the grove, ing.avi.

Soon, a chorus of anguished cries echoed from within.

“Hey, Brother Daoyi, what are you doing? Don't mess around, don’t hit me, don’t—don’t hit my face!”

Hearing this, Yu Daoyi paused, considering the logic. Song Cheng, seeing him stop, quieted his cries for a moment, staring at him in confusion before erupting again.

“Ah! If you’re not going to use your hands, you can’t kick me either!”

The next morning dawned bright and uneventful.

Sunlight filtered gently into the woods, accompanied by melodious birdsong, breathing life into what had seemed a dead, silent hillside. Dew sparkled on budding flowers, glistening with vitality.

Within a patch of forest on the mountainside, several figures moved swiftly in one direction. A youth, his face somewhat bruised and swollen, paused occasionally to inspect the trees, seemingly searching for some mark.

“It shouldn’t be far now,” Song Cheng turned to inform the group.

“Brother Song Cheng, I’ve wanted to ask since morning—what happened to your face?” Wang Hongjun inquired, puzzled by the change in Song Cheng’s appearance, which had been normal the day before.

“I fell. What, do you want to know exactly where I fell too?” Song Cheng replied with a sour expression.

“Haha, Brother Song Cheng is joking.” Wang Hongjun chuckled lightly, undisturbed by the response.

“Ahem, we’re almost at the domain of the Phoenix-Crested Blood Python. Does anyone have any thoughts?” Yu Daoyi coughed, sidestepping the odd look Song Qiuling gave him on behalf of her brother, and changed the subject.

“The Phoenix-Crested Blood Python is injured, so its strength is not a match for all of us. Still, even so, to kill such a creature without a clear plan would cost us dearly,” Wang Hongjun replied promptly.

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“Brother Hongjun is absolutely right. If possible, I’d like to discuss our plan with everyone.” Yu Daoyi nodded in agreement.

“My sister and I mainly excel at restraining techniques. We practice beast control, but it’s impossible to directly subdue a ninth-level Qi cultivator like the Phoenix-Crested Blood Python—even wounded, it’s unlikely. So, we can only assist from the sidelines,” the Duan siblings explained, surprising some in the group, as beast control was a rare cultivation art.

“I’ve witnessed their beast control firsthand. If they hadn’t held back the Phoenix-Crested Blood Python at the time, we wouldn’t have lasted until rescue arrived,” Wang Meng interjected.

“In that case, should the highest cultivators—my brother and you, Hongjun—take the lead?” Yu Daoyi asked Wang Hongjun sincerely.

Wang Hongjun was surprised. He and a few others were uninjured and the strongest in the group, with himself at the seventh level of Qi refinement. It was reasonable for him to lead, though he typically avoided being the spearhead and would find excuses to decline. Yet, Daoyi included his own brother in the suggestion, which puzzled him.

After brief consideration, he did not refuse. In all fairness, Yu Daoyi’s words were correct. Their group was now the strongest, and it wasn’t proper to reject outright. The weaker cultivators could be ignored, but the Duan siblings’ abilities were necessary; without them, killing the Phoenix-Crested Blood Python was almost impossible. With its monster physique and ninth-level Qi—almost at the peak—it would be troublesome for them alone.

With their combined strength and Daoyi’s brother on their side, things should go smoothly. Securing the Scarlet Blood Fruit quickly would allow him to begin his next phase.

After much discussion, they arrived at a ruined spot in the mountains. Trees were snapped, rocks scattered, and the ground riddled with pits. A blood python, several yards long, coiled atop a towering tree. The enormous wound along its body had begun to scab, but the exposed white bone was still visible. The python’s energy seemed wan, and beside the giant tree grew a small, inconspicuous red sapling, fiercely guarded by the blood python.

From afar, everyone watched intently, suppressing their aura to avoid detection.

“The injury hasn’t healed, but there’s bad news,” Yu Daoyi frowned.

“What is it?” Wang Hongjun asked.

“One of the Scarlet Blood Fruits is missing. There were eight on the tree before, now only seven remain. The Phoenix-Crested Blood Python’s recovery is faster than I expected—I suspect it devoured a fruit to heal itself,” Yu Daoyi’s brows knitted, realizing this could bring unexpected complications.

“So even though it’s still wounded, eating a Scarlet Blood Fruit has brought it closer to a breakthrough,” Wang Hongjun said, frowning.

“Exactly. It’s ruthless enough. These fruits were meant for its foundation-building. Losing one makes the process much harder, but it seems convinced more will come to seize the fruit,” Yu Daoyi smiled lightly.

With ninth-level Qi strength and a Scarlet Blood Fruit, it was only half a step from foundation-building, though that last half-step remained elusive.

“Regardless, its injury is real. We stick to the plan,” Wang Hongjun whispered.

Everyone nodded. At his words, Yu Yunfan and Wang Hongjun, along with two others, strode forward, drawing violent hisses from the Phoenix-Crested Blood Python. Sensing a threat, it uncoiled from the giant tree and lunged at them, its speed kicking up clouds of dust.

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In an instant, the Phoenix-Crested Blood Python was entangled with four people. Wang Hongjun and two others wielded three magical swords, slashing at the python’s body, while Yu Yunfan fought with a black staff instead of his previous ink-colored cauldron.

Meanwhile, the Duan siblings appeared on the battlefield, each drawing a vertical flute and playing a strange melody. The Phoenix-Crested Blood Python’s power clearly diminished, dizziness apparent. As the group fought, they deliberately drew the python away from the Scarlet Blood Fruit tree.

“The Scarlet Blood Fruit truly lives up to its reputation. With just one, the Phoenix-Crested Blood Python hasn’t weakened—it’s even stronger, perhaps approaching genuine foundation-building power,” Yu Daoyi murmured.

He then led the remaining few to stealthily circle behind the Scarlet Blood Fruit tree. Whether or not they could subdue the python, the fruit was their true goal. This had been an unspoken agreement among them—the fruit mattered more than killing the beast.

Now, the remaining four—Wang Meng, the Song siblings, and Yu Daoyi—prepared to seize the last seven Scarlet Blood Fruits.

Amidst the swirling dust, they crept toward the tree. Yu Daoyi glanced at Wang Meng, who accompanied him, and smiled faintly. Spotting a large stone hurtling toward them, he covertly signaled Song Cheng and Song Qiuling, then secretly collided with the stone.

A scream rang out. Wang Meng stared in astonishment at the source, bewildered, while Song Cheng and Song Qiuling immediately sped toward the tree. At that moment, a fierce hiss echoed—the python, sensing something amiss, broke free from the others and charged toward Yu Daoyi’s position.

Luckily, the dust obscured everything. Wang Meng, seeing Yu Daoyi deliberately crash into the stone, was baffled, then angry, as he realized the python was heading straight for them.

“What are you doing!” Wang Meng shouted.

“Sorry, brother,” Yu Daoyi replied softly, tossing a Lethal Spirit Pill in his hand.

This pill, naturally, had been pilfered from Song Qiuling, since his own supply had run out the previous day.

“Wang Meng, run! Don’t worry about me! Don’t sacrifice yourself just because I saved you! The python is coming!” Yu Daoyi shouted, seeing the ferocious python’s head emerge from the dust.

He hurled the pill at Wang Meng, gaze cold as ice. He didn’t know if Wang Meng and Wang Hongjun had ulterior motives or were in collusion, nor if Wang Meng was truly good or evil. But he couldn’t gamble—too many unforeseen changes had occurred in this expedition. If blame was needed, it was simply because they were both from the Wang clan.

This world is full of injustice. I’ve never considered myself a good person. So, let me be the villain!

I saved your life; now, I want you to return the favor!

A thunderous crash echoed.

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