Chapter Forty-Nine: The Second Piece

As time slowly passed, the mysterious melody drew to a close.

A bamboo grove of blue-green hue, a bamboo flute of the same shade, and a flowing robe in matching color—his face unseen, his silence full of meaning, ethereal and elegant.

A song from the secluded mountains, from the verdant depths, a sentiment that even the white clouds do not know.

Song Qiuling was anxious and flustered, desperate to learn the identity of the figure before her. Yet each time she tried to rush forward, Yu Yunfan at her side held her back.

“So, who are you really?” Song Qiuling demanded coldly, her voice crisp and clear, tinged with anger.

She was the daughter of the Song family patriarch, and yet the person before her, clad in the Song family’s blue robe, had raised a hand against her. This meant that traitors had long since arisen within the Song clan, those who had betrayed their ancestors and sought to destroy the family.

“Song Yong,” said Yu Yunfan calmly, before the masked figure could reply.

Song Yong removed his mask, never intending to conceal his identity—otherwise, he would not have worn the Song clan’s blue robe.

“Cousin?” Song Cheng’s face betrayed disbelief, for the aura emanating from the man revealed a cultivation level in the eighth stage of Qi Refinement, solid and stable, while his cousin, whom he recalled struggling to reach the sixth stage, had always lingered at the edge, barely advancing.

“Your brother must have discovered something,” Song Yong remarked coldly, glancing at the others.

“You were too foolish,” Yu Yunfan responded, his tone indifferent.

“This Song Yong hid his cultivation,” Yu Dao Yi had told Yu Yunfan this after Song Yong left, and Yu Yunfan had always remembered it, trusting that his unusual spiritual strength would uncover something amiss.

“Is it so strange? Then why is it not odd that Song Yong entered the rear mountain with those from the Wang family?” A low, chilling voice echoed from the empty bamboo grove.

It was not only deep but tinged with a sinister coldness. The wind stirred the bamboo, leaves drifting down, the stalks swaying gently, their rustling filling the air.

“I had thought to capture all of you in one net this time, but alas, someone must have leaked my plan. Truly, I must activate another pawn.”

“If only Wang Hongjun had been a little smarter, this would have ended long ago. Sadly, he was too foolish—failed to eliminate you, and instead was eliminated himself.”

“But perhaps it’s just as well. If you all die here, whatever the outcome, I have gained. The Wang family has more than one pawn; losing him won’t change the grand scheme. He was nothing but a useless piece.”

“Speaking of which, he was a pitiful soul. With my help, he almost saw his day in the sun, endured for so many years, only to die so senselessly.”

“Tell me, is this all your fault? I despise violence and bloodshed most of all.”

He wore white, his features gentle and handsome—a figure befitting the image of a refined gentleman, warm and serene as jade.

Lin Tao narrowed his eyes, holding a black paper fan, gently flicking it open, as he sauntered toward the group as if he had all the time in the world.

Against the wind-blown bamboo leaves, his elegant white attire and handsome face formed a beautiful tableau, spoiled only by the aged figure trailing behind him.

Unlike a sage with hair white as snow and the face of a child, this old man’s eyes were clouded and lifeless, his body frail, exuding none of the vitality of youth—one foot already in the grave. Yet the spiritual energy radiating from him made everyone tremble: he was at the Foundation Establishment stage!

Lin He, in the eighth stage, had a Foundation Establishment cultivator as his guardian.

“Your reach is truly long, Lin Tao,” Song Qiuling glared at him, anger burning in her eyes but cautious not to act rashly—even one at Foundation Establishment was far beyond the Qi Refinement juniors.

“You do me an injustice. I am but a law-abiding commoner. Wang Hongjun and Song Yong simply found in me what they desired, and willingly served me,” Lin Tao replied, feigning innocence.

“To become your lapdogs and still speak so grandly?” Song Qiuling retorted, her fury growing.

“Look at you. Relationships are always transactional. They aided me, so naturally I must reward them.” Lin Tao folded his fan, his narrow eyes drifting toward Song Yong with a smile. “Isn’t that right, Song Yong?”

“Why! As a member of the Song clan, what has my family ever done to wrong you?” Song Qiuling confronted the traitor, unable to hold back.

“Wronged me? Young lady, there is something I wish to tell you: the Song clan will always belong to you and your kind. I have never considered myself one of you.”

Song Yong stood at a distance, beside him the severely wounded Crimson Crown Python under his control. His gaze was cold as he looked at Song Cheng and Song Qiuling, his voice icy.

“You and your brother have lived in luxury since childhood, carefree and always basking in the sunlight, never seeing the darkness of this world. That is because your great patriarch arranges everything for you, keeps the best for you, shields you from every shadow!”

“And us? Merely because we are distant branches of the Song clan, we are doomed to have nothing? Doomed to be at your mercy from birth?”

“In the Song clan, we have always been inferior—even your household’s servants look at me with contempt! They gossip, laugh, act without restraint!”

“Why? Why! I bear the Song name! I was born into this clan! Why must I endure their scorn? Why should a pack of servants dare to shout at me?”

“My parents told me from the start: being born into this family is our tragedy. No matter what we do, we must bow to you; no matter how perfectly we perform, it is always taken for granted!”

“We are like the Song clan’s dogs, summoned and dismissed at will, not a shred of dignity!”

“My dear young lady, wake up. In this world, no one is truly good—not even your father. Those unspeakable deeds, those he would never dirty his hands with, who do you think handles them?”

“Who do you think cleans up his messes when something is exposed?”

“His hands are stained with blood! The conflicts within the clan are far more vicious than you imagine! For the sake of that position, they will do anything—my own parents became scapegoats, forced to bear the blame for your father, without any choice!”

“I have lived humbly, bowing and scraping, careful in everything, just hoping to finally stand before you with dignity, to lift my head and declare: I, Song Yong, am a man—not someone’s dog!”

“Song Qiuling! Song Cheng! Do you know how much I loathe your naïve expressions? How much I despise the way you pity others? Your self-righteous airs disgust me!”

“I will take your heads and personally deliver them to Song Tianhan, to tell him that my parents and I owe the Song clan nothing! I will avenge them myself! I have never feared death; so long as I see Song Tianhan’s despair in his final moments, I will have what I wish!”

His words grew louder, his face twisted with rage and hatred, years of suppressed fury erupting in an unrestrained rush, wild and liberating.

“Look, listen—how heartfelt his words are. Song Qiuling, did you hear? This is your Song clan, built on another foundation, no longer bright and noble, but stained with your family’s blood, gnawing on your bones—how, how enchanting.” Lin Tao closed his eyes, breathed deeply, intoxicated, murmuring softly, “How utterly captivating.”

Song Qiuling bowed her head in silence, unable to find words to refute him. She could not tell how much of Song Yong’s story was truth or falsehood, but she knew of some family matters—she simply had never wanted to dig deeper, never wanted to face them.

Song Cheng looked at his silent sister, something stirring within him. Their father had never wanted to tell them the darker side of things, only wished to protect his son and daughter, to shoulder everything himself and show them only a world of dazzling sunlight. But some things must be faced.

He understood it was his responsibility to bear these burdens before his sister. Someone once said that the world is never simply good or evil; villains or heroes, none of it mattered compared to his own sister.

That same person, right before him, had said his sister was a fool, a simple fool, so long as she smiled everything would be well—he would protect her.

Song Cheng smiled gently, revealing his broad white teeth—so much like him.

Once, their father stood before them; from now on, it would be him.

Because he was her brother.