Chapter Fifty-One: The Power of a Prison!

In the Yu residence’s courtyard, Yu’s father and the woman he loved were playfully teasing each other beneath the sunlight, gazing at the shimmering surface of the pond, utterly at ease. Nearby, several camphor trees shed a cascade of leaves, shaken loose by traces of spiritual energy emanating from some unknown source.

“See that? Fallen leaves return to their roots, just as I return to you,” Yu’s father declared passionately to his wife. He could utter such flirtatious words without the faintest blush or hesitation—even in the height of summer, he spoke of fallen leaves with no thought for the season’s sensibilities.

His wife was clearly delighted, her mood radiant.

“Indeed, a carefree life for two—it's something truly worth remembering,” Yu’s father sighed, deeply moved.

Those two children had been accidents, pure and simple.

“Do you think they’ll be alright, going to the back mountain?” His wife’s brow furrowed with sudden worry.

“Don’t fret, those are our sons!” he reassured her, pride shining on his handsome face.

“Dao Yi came looking for us the other night,” his wife recalled, about to say more.

“That scoundrel! Always up to mischief. Who disturbs others in the dead of night? He deserved a beating.” Yu’s father’s expression soured at the memory.

“Scoundrel? That’s our son!” His wife knocked him on the head, adding, “Don’t pretend. You act indifferent, but you’ve been using your spiritual sense to watch over the courtyard the whole time.”

“Yes, yes, but you really needn’t worry. I’ve already given instructions—Eleven is with them now. If need be, he’ll step in,” Yu’s father replied, grinning ingratiatingly.

“That’s good, then.”

But as the words left her lips, Yu’s father suddenly froze. He shot to his feet, eyes dark and solemn, gazing toward the back mountain.

He muttered, just like Yu Yunfan, “Demonic energy.”

…

Back Mountain, bamboo forest.

The air grew stifling, as if making it difficult for everyone to breathe.

“What is he doing?” Song Qiuling gasped.

Just as Yu Daoyi had described, not only outsiders but even those who had known him for years now found him utterly unfamiliar, as though they’d never truly known him at all.

As the sky pressed down, the gale whipped so fiercely that eyes could barely remain open, and spiritual energy boiled on the edge of eruption, it felt as if time itself had halted.

Through narrowed eyes, the group saw the Phoenix-crowned Blood Python shrivel at a rate visible to the naked eye. Its few remaining black scales, battered by wounds, fell away; its eyes grew unfocused and dim, and within a few breaths, it was nothing but a dried corpse.

A deafening explosion followed. With a thunderous bang, the corpse shattered to dust—no bones remained.

A small, ink-black cauldron hurtled backwards, as if struck by immense force—the artifact Yu Yunfan had left with Yu Daoyi to protect him inside the python’s belly.

Then a crimson light burst out. Within that glow, Yu Daoyi’s features seemed almost otherworldly—his own face, yet subtly transformed, making him even more striking, his build more refined.

The change was slight, but undeniably real.

The crimson radiance gathered at a point on his right hand. His cold eyes locked onto a single direction—Song Yong.

…

At the moment when everything reached its limit, Yu Daoyi finally unleashed his punch. Crimson light flooded everyone’s vision in an instant, so dazzling it was impossible to keep one’s eyes open. Plants and stones in the punch’s path dissolved into nothingness.

Ancient Demon Transformation—Nine Layers of the Inferno!

The power of one layer!

A sound even louder than before shook the clouds. Bamboo snapped and splintered under the force, flung aside by the shockwave. Within several meters of Yu Daoyi, nothing remained.

As the crimson brilliance faded, the mysterious wind vanished, and looking skyward, the world seemed restored—sunlight once again poured down, bright and undimmed.

Bracing themselves after the blast, the group stared ahead in disbelief.

There, in the wake of that punch, was an eerie trench—hundreds of meters long, nine feet wide, stretching straight ahead, carving deep into the earth, erasing everything in its path.

Song Yong stared, aghast, at the trench beside him, his heart pounding with lingering fear. He realized he’d survived only because the punch had veered off at the last moment.

But his shock quickly turned to disbelief. Glancing down at his body, he felt as if he no longer owned it, unable to move. Just then, a gentle breeze swept by. Song Yong watched as his body crumbled to fragments, scattering on the wind. His gaze, conflicted, tried to speak, but no words emerged.

Finally, the wind died. The man was gone.

Song Qiuling watched, stunned by how quickly it had all transpired, and sighed softly, “In the end, you were still a dog—a dog for Lin Tao. You never truly saw yourself.”

When the dust settled, all eyes turned to the empty, devastated ground, where a lone figure stood. They heard him mutter softly,

“Lushan Rising Dragon Strike! Let’s see you call me daddy now!”

Then he collapsed. Dashing for only three seconds, his clothes in tatters, body covered in wounds, his right hand bloody and mangled.

The oppressive aura had vanished, but everyone knew its source was the man lying there.

Song Qiuling snapped from her daze and rushed to check Yu Daoyi’s injuries, while Yu Yunfan watched coldly as four figures emerged from the distance.

Besides Lin Tao and the Foundation Establishment elder, there were also the two wooden men from Xiao Yue Pavilion who had been with Wang Hongjun.

“Well, you’ve certainly given me a shock. I admit it—you’ve truly stunned me. Your brother is terrifying,” Lin Tao said.

“Even at the peak of Qi Refining, I wouldn’t dare face that punch head-on. Even Foundation Establishment cultivators would dread it. And that’s only because his cultivation is at the third stage of Qi Refining.”

“Yu Yunfan, I’m actually a little afraid now. Both you and that so-called useless brother of yours grow at a terrifying speed. So, will you grant me one request?”

“Could you please… just die?”

Deep in the bamboo forest, Lin Tao’s low, hoarse voice rang out, thick with anger and fear.

“That was close. If that punch had been aimed at me, if I hadn’t brought Lin Bo today, I probably would’ve died.”

“It was just that close.”

“Lin Bo, I don’t want to play anymore. This game has gone beyond my expectations—it’s no longer fun.”

“Lin Bo, and you two from Xiao Yue Pavilion, end this. Now.”

In the patchy sunlight, Lin Tao’s body trembled, his words restless, his gaze at those before him full of loathing.

…

“Cough, cough—two at the seventh stage of Qi Refining, one Foundation Establishment. Cough. You really don’t hold back, do you?” Yu Daoyi, not quite unconscious, forced out a mocking cough through the pain.

“Don’t talk. Just look at yourself!” Song Qiuling gently propped him up, her tone anxious and flustered, at a loss for what to do.

“You’re really hard to kill, aren’t you?” Lin Tao’s eyes blazed with anger.

“No one dares take my life that easily!” Yu Daoyi snapped between coughs.

“For giving me such a spectacle, I’ll let you say a few last words,” Lin Tao declared loftily.

“Last words? Fine. Qiuling—”

“Hm?” Song Qiuling, seeing him turn toward her, answered, puzzled.

“Could I rest my head in your lap?” His small face was full of hopeful anticipation.

“My lap?” Song Qiuling was confused.

“Yes, just like this, and then this, and finally my head here—yes, that way I’ll recover much faster!”

Before he finished, a sharp flick to his forehead rang out.

“Why’d you hit me?” His innocent expression was almost comical.

“If you weren’t so badly hurt, you’d still be lying there! Believe me, I can make you lie on your back, your stomach, or your side if I want!” Song Qiuling, brows knit, was exasperated by his glibness, but her worry lightened all the same.

“Are you mocking my intelligence?” Lin Tao clenched his fists, feeling deeply insulted.

“None of your business! Want me to punch you too?” Yu Daoyi shot back, ignoring the dire situation.

“Looking at your state, do you still have the strength?”

“No.”

“…”

So straightforward.

“But I still have a younger brother, don’t I? Care to take a gamble?”

“Passing down the bloodline, are you? The Yu family hides deep indeed,” Lin Tao mused, watching the cold, distant Yu Yunfan. The recent shock made him wary with every step.

“Oh, you’ve got it wrong. I was bluffing—my brother can’t do that.”

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