Chapter Forty-Four: The Sound Brought by the Bees

After the deafening explosion, the Blood Python was caught in the powerful shockwave. It grew furious—the same method would no longer work, and the power of a single Dire Spirit Pill was hardly enough to harm it, serving only to distract it for a moment. Enraged, the serpent opened its bloody maw and lunged at Wang Meng, who had been thrown aside and injured by the blast. Yu Daoyi, witnessing this, steadily retreated; there was no need for him to intervene further.

He had long known that Wang Meng was only at the fifth level of Qi Refinement, a peripheral figure in the Wang family, which explained why he associated with the ostracized Wang Hongjun. A single Dire Spirit Pill was enough to wound him and provide the python an opportunity. By that logic, Wang Meng was destined to be devoured, and Yu Daoyi thought it best to leave the area as soon as possible.

Wang Hongjun and his group, much slower than the Phoenix-Crowned Blood Python, arrived only to see the aftermath of an explosion, smoke billowing to the sky. When the dust settled, the python could be seen raising its head, tearing at a corpse. The group was startled—judging by the clothing, it was clearly Wang Meng. What should have been a straightforward battle had now claimed a life, and a member of the Wang family at that. Wang Hongjun's face darkened.

As the dust cleared, a battered figure, blood streaming from his head, came running from a distance.

"Why did Wang Meng die at the hands of the Phoenix-Crowned Blood Python?" Wang Hongjun demanded as Yu Daoyi approached from afar.

"It was my fault," Yu Daoyi replied, "but now is not the time for explanations. Song Cheng and the others have gone to pick the Crimson Blood Fruit, and I’m wounded—if I go, I’ll only be a hindrance. The main thing now is to draw the python away!"

Noting Yu Daoyi’s disheveled state, Wang Hongjun could see that he’d clearly suffered a blow. He didn’t question him further; as for Wang Meng’s death, now was not the time to discuss it. The Crimson Blood Fruit was the priority.

Casting a deep glance at the injured Yu Daoyi, Wang Hongjun said nothing more, but led his group in attacking the Phoenix-Crowned Blood Python.

As Yu Daoyi brushed past, he and Yu Yunfan exchanged a meaningful look, nodding subtly, unnoticed by the others.

Sharp swords struck the python’s dark, armored scales, sending sparks flying and filling the air with the sound of clashing steel. The serpent, pained, lashed out with its jaws at the group. Dodging aside, Yu Yunfan seized the chance to smash the python’s head with his black staff, while Wang Hongjun’s three companions focused their swords on a single spot, gouging bloody holes in the creature’s body. Blood poured forth. Meanwhile, the Duan siblings played their flutes from afar, slowing the serpent’s movements.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. Wang Hongjun’s character might be lacking, but his talent is undeniable, Yu Daoyi mused from his hiding place in the grass, a stalk of wild grass in his mouth as he whispered to himself, utterly unconcerned. The guy looked like he was already at the seventh level of Qi Refinement, perhaps not far from the eighth, and those two wooden-faced followers at his side were formidable too—this could be tricky.

Though battered and bruised, having been struck by a boulder, Yu Daoyi was glad he’d practiced the Nine Transformations of the Ancient Demon. Honestly, the blow had left him looking a mess, but in truth, it hurt less than the daily whacks his father used to give him.

The battle was chaos. The Phoenix-Crowned Blood Python, sensing its life at stake, unleashed its full strength and fought back desperately. Amid the turmoil, Wang Hongjun’s attention seemed, intentionally or not, to linger on Yu Daoyi’s direction.

After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, everyone was gasping for breath, bruised and bloodied, while the Phoenix-Crowned Blood Python lay in a pool of its own blood, listless, its crimson pupils fixed on them with undying hatred.

Yu Daoyi approached slowly from a distance, Song Cheng and Song Qiuling following. Song Cheng carried a bulging package on his back, from which dense spiritual energy occasionally emanated.

“Brother Hongjun, you’ve all worked hard.” Yu Daoyi smiled and nodded to the group.

“No wonder this beast was about to form a Foundation. Even wounded, it was tough to handle, but this is as far as it goes. Besides, we have what we came for, don’t we?” Wang Hongjun said, one hand gripping his sword, its blade planted deep in the python’s tail.

“Yes, it’s done.” Yu Daoyi gestured to the package on Song Cheng’s back.

A heavy silence descended. The Duan siblings suddenly felt something was wrong.

“Now, can we talk about why Wang Meng died to the python?” Wang Hongjun finally asked.

“It’s quite obvious, isn’t it?”

“Even so, I’d like to hear it from you.” Wang Hongjun’s voice was low, his head bowed.

“It’s simple. I was injured by a falling boulder and the python found me. Wang Meng died saving me from the beast—a real pity.” Yu Daoyi spread his hands, as if helpless.

“And that explosion?” Wang Hongjun looked up.

“A Dire Spirit Pill, of course. When Wang Meng was in danger, I used it to try and save him—but in the end, he couldn’t escape.” Yu Daoyi sighed and shook his head.

“When I saw your battered state, I took it at face value and thought nothing of it. Looking back now, there are so many inconsistencies,” Wang Hongjun said, his dark eyes cold. “I didn’t expect you all to turn on us so quickly. We all pretended ignorance, but you might have survived longer if you’d kept up the act.”

“Huh? Brother Hongjun, what nonsense are you talking about?” Yu Daoyi tilted his head, feigning innocence and confusion.

“You really don’t know?” Wang Hongjun sneered, an edge of anger in his voice.

“Of course I do.” Yu Daoyi’s confusion turned to a faint smile, then he looked at Wang Hongjun as if he were a fool. “I know perfectly well. If not for that accident, you’d have made your move sooner. Losing Wang Meng must have annoyed you—after all, his promise to you was more important than the Crimson Blood Fruit, wasn’t it?”

“So, there’s no need for me to hide anything now? You’ve figured it all out?” Wang Hongjun sounded surprised, but not concerned.

“I know what I need to know,” Yu Daoyi replied with a nod and a grin.

Song Cheng, Song Qiuling, and the Duan siblings were utterly confused, but they sensed the tension in the air.

“That fool thought everything was under his control, never realizing you’d seen through him,” Wang Hongjun mocked.

“Well, he’s a fool, and so are you. Birds of a feather flock together. Maybe he’d sell you out and you’d still help him count the money. But thanks to that unlucky wretch, I figured things out sooner.” The “unlucky wretch” was, of course, the late Wang Er.

“No wonder you refused to answer directly before. Even in death, that useless man brings us trouble. But do you really think you can win against me? Or do you expect those two to help you?” Wang Hongjun gestured at the Duan siblings.

They frowned, distinctly uncomfortable, realizing they’d been used as pawns.

“Hardly. I don’t have that much influence. Besides, the fairy is still here—I wouldn’t want to lose her.” Yu Daoyi smiled at Duan Yin like a mischievous boy, then turned and pointed at his brother. “Besides, the strongest among us are right by your side. Look—you’ve let them surround you without even realizing it.”

Yu Yunfan, dressed in black, his long hair falling freely, stood with a heavy iron staff in hand, expressionless as he surveyed the crowd. On either side of Wang Hongjun were his two followers at the seventh level of Qi Refinement. Feeling Yu Yunfan’s cold aura, they both felt their own presence instantly suppressed and frowned deeply.

“You’re not as stupid as you look. But do you really care so little for your own brother?” Wang Hongjun pointed at Yu Yunfan.

“How could I not? My brother’s meant to protect me for life. I’d never abandon him. Besides—” Yu Daoyi lifted his chin, savoring the mountain breeze, then continued softly, “You really are a fool.”

“Hm?” Wang Hongjun was puzzled.

“Listen to the wind,” Yu Daoyi smiled. “No, wait—it’s not the wind. It’s the sound of bees.”