Chapter Forty-Eight: Dawn Moon Pavilion

Buzzing filled the air as the venomous swarm of bees gradually dispersed before them. Yu Daoyi, standing to the side, recounted the events of the night before they ventured into the back mountains. Of course, he left out the peculiarity of his spiritual power and that shameful episode he’d rather forget.

The satisfaction on his face was unmistakable as he watched the curious and occasionally perplexed expressions of those around him.

At last, Song Cheng, who seemed to have been holding it in for quite some time, blurted out, “So, did you really go to the outhouse for a feast afterward?”

What??

“Qiuling, go home and tell Elder Song to have another son. Leave this one to me for a merciful end,” Yu Daoyi retorted, expressionless, itching to give him a punch right then and there.

Song Cheng blinked in confusion. “What???”

“So, you’re saying Lin Tao intended to target us from the very beginning?” Song Qiuling ignored the banter and steered the conversation back on track.

“It’s not just an intention. From the start, he already considered us dead men,” Yu Daoyi replied with indifference.

“And what does this have to do with the Wang family?” Song Qiuling pressed.

“Are you familiar with the Moon Pavilion?”

“Of course.”

“Then do you know what all the assassins of the Moon Pavilion have in common?” Yu Daoyi turned to her.

“Deathsworn,” Song Qiuling answered after some thought.

“Exactly. Everyone who joins the Moon Pavilion becomes a deathsworn. Their assassins are ranked into three tiers: Heaven, Earth, and Mortal. Only those who surpass these three can shed their status and become key figures within the Pavilion.

“But regardless of rank, so long as they are deathsworn, each carries a poison capsule beneath their tongue. None will ever betray their employer, not even in death. This is the foundation of the Moon Pavilion’s lasting strength in these lands.

“Where there is light, there is always shadow. Those who walk in the light but operate in the shadows are many in this world—hence the Moon Pavilion’s success.”

Yu Daoyi briefly described the Moon Pavilion, speaking earnestly to Song Qiuling and the others.

“So, about what you mentioned earlier—venting your anger?” Song Qiuling seemed to have realized something.

“Funny thing is, I’ve always known this, but I never knew how they’d approach us—until I examined that corpse,” Yu Daoyi mused.

“When you stripped his clothes, what did you find?” Song Qiuling prompted.

“Perhaps he was struck hard by the Crimson-crowned Blood Python and accidentally bit through the poison capsule, or maybe it was another violent blow. Either way, when I went through his effects, I found his throat and chest were blackened—a clear sign of the Pavilion’s Boiling Gu poison. After all, the blood python isn’t venomous,” Yu Daoyi analyzed.

“So then…”

“Wang Er was a Wang family member, but he had Moon Pavilion poison. That’s suspicious. Whether he was from the Wang family or the Pavilion doesn’t matter now—what matters is that Wang Hongjun, who was with him, is almost certainly involved.” Yu Daoyi shrugged. “Thinking back, those two wooden-faced followers behind him were likely Pavilion agents too.”

“It seems the Wang and Lin families have already joined forces,” Song Qiuling frowned, realizing this was troubling news for the Song family.

“That Lin Tao is cunning, but convincing the entire Wang family to side with him? I doubt it; he’s not that capable. Most likely, Wang Hongjun has some private deal with him,” Yu Daoyi said, glancing at the dispersing bees. “Let’s go see if that guy’s really dead now.”

With a wave, Yu Daoyi beckoned the others to follow. By now, the Duan siblings had grasped something of the situation—they’d been unwittingly drawn into the mess.

As they spoke, the venomous bees, having gotten what they wanted, returned to their hive and soon vanished from sight.

Leaving the forest, they moved toward the clearing, where a corpse lay sprawled on the ground.

The gruesome sight defied description—even Yu Daoyi felt waves of nausea. Unable to look, Song Qiuling and Duan Yin quickly turned away after just a glance.

“Well, brother, rest in peace. Even your closest kin could never recognize you now. This is more effective than burning you to ash,” Yu Daoyi muttered with a curl of his lip.

The body was covered in swollen blisters, oozing black pus, distorted beyond recognition, the entire form swollen several times its size from the bees’ stings.

If anyone could still identify him, let them name him! I’d give them a taste of the same!

Then—

Retching and gagging erupted nearby.

“What are you staring at? I just had a bad lunch, that’s all!” Yu Daoyi snapped at Song Cheng, who was barely stifling his laughter.

Again, the sound of retching filled the air.

“…Looks pretty bad,” Song Cheng joked.

“Shut up, or I’ll put you out of your misery right now!” Yu Daoyi shot him a fierce glare.

“You’ve been hiding things from us from the start,” Song Qiuling said, turning her back to the corpse.

“To fool the enemy, you must first fool your own,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Aren’t you afraid we might all die out here because of this?” Song Qiuling’s anger showed—she’d been kept in the dark about something so important.

“Relax. It’s not that I wanted to keep things from you, but the more people who know, the more unpredictable things get. But rest assured—even if it costs my last breath, I’ll protect you.”

As usual, he flashed his bright smile, dazzling in the sunlight. Yet for once, Song Qiuling sensed his sincerity, not his usual lightheartedness.

“And about your family—I don’t know what their deal is, but Lin He was right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If anyone wants my brother and me dead out here, my unreliable parents would be the first to object.”

…That’s a suspiciously odd thing to say, Song Qiuling thought.

“Don’t be so doubtful. I’ll say it here and now: whether it’s the Moon Pavilion’s assassins, venomous bees, or a blood python, nothing will happen to me! My father and mother would never stand idly by. They must have laid down…”

Before he could finish, Yu Daoyi suddenly noticed the sky darken overhead. Looking up, he saw a blood-soaked Crimson-crowned Blood Python leap from the forest, jaws wide open, descending upon him.

…

Are you kidding me? Is fate really this literal? I didn’t even set up a flag!

The python swallowed him whole, then slithered away at lightning speed, catching everyone unprepared.

“Did I just see Brother Daoyi get… crunched?” Song Cheng stammered, still in shock.

“That guy just can’t give anyone peace of mind!” Song Qiuling snapped out of her daze and dashed after the python.

Yu Yunfan’s face darkened, a terrifying aura radiating from him. The spiritual energy around him surged with dangerous instability, as if he were about to explode. The Duan siblings were stunned as well. Duan Yuxuan glanced at his sister—when she nodded, they both joined the pursuit.

Brother Cai is truly a legend, Song Cheng thought, shaking his head, at a loss for words.

“How could this happen? That blood python was so badly wounded—why would it attack us now? Is it so desperate for life?” Song Qiuling was anxious. The thought of that guy only having the third stage of Qi Refinement made her wonder how long he could survive inside.

“I don’t know,” Yu Yunfan replied tightly, his twisted expression betraying his inner turmoil. He seemed on the verge of losing control.

“If I’d known, I’d have killed the beast myself!” Perhaps influenced by Yu Yunfan, Song Qiuling’s refined features hardened with a trace of fierceness.

They gave chase. Fortunately, the python’s injuries slowed it down, and they caught up in less than half a quarter of an hour. The serpent had fled into a bamboo grove, where it fell still.

“It’s stopped?” Song Qiuling questioned.

Then, a faint flute melody wafted through the air—mournful and lingering, flowing like the curves of the ocean, clear and graceful, yet full of hidden meaning.

On hearing it, the Duan siblings’ faces changed dramatically, disbelief written across their faces.

Song Qiuling, too, turned to look at them, suspicion in her eyes.

A figure emerged—a masked person in a blue robe, hands caressing a flute, long hair dancing in the wind, exuding effortless elegance among the bamboo.

Duan Yin hurriedly explained, “He’s not from our Duan family. The flute art is indeed ours, but only the main branch can cultivate it, and there are fewer than ten in this generation who know it. We’ve never seen him before.”

“I believe you,” Song Qiuling replied, not turning back as she fixed her gaze on the blue-robed figure.

“Why?” Duan Yin was surprised, thinking their relationship wasn’t that close.

“Because he’s wearing a robe from our Song family.”