Chapter Forty-Three: Lost in the Bamboo Grove

The Lost Bamboo Forest was one of the eleven major territories within the Northern Beast Domain, and it bordered the lands of humanity at the northern edge of the continent. There, an endless ocean of bamboo stretched as far as the eye could see—no one knew its true vastness. Bamboo, a rarity in many human kingdoms, grew everywhere in that place.

Within the emerald depths, spirit beasts were beyond counting; as for the third-tier Scarletflame Serpents, their numbers were even greater. Yet these serpents, aggressive and venomous as they were, possessed inner cores of little value. The risk outweighed the reward, and so few ventured to capture them.

Moreover, Scarletflame Serpents had a peculiar habit: they lived in swarms, seldom wandering alone. A single serpent was already terrifying, but when thousands attacked together, even cultivators at the Four Symbols level dared not provoke them lightly.

Their venom was not fatal, but if over a hundred bit a person at once, the paralytic poison would flood the body in an instant, suffocating the victim before death swiftly followed.

Thus, slaying one or two Scarletflame Serpents was not difficult, but capturing one was far from simple. Unless one found a solitary serpent, few would ever take on such a task.

When Ye Zihan and Yan Chen brought this assignment to the registry, the guild’s steward could not help but be astonished, remarking that the task had languished for nearly a year, with few willing to accept it—and none who had succeeded.

The swarm nature of the Scarletflame Serpents was common knowledge. If the task were to kill them, one could simply escape after dispatching two. But to capture them alive, without harm, meant a drawn-out struggle, which would only draw more serpents and endless trouble.

“Are you sure you want to accept this task?” the middle-aged registrar finally asked.

Yan Chen frowned slightly. “Is there a problem?”

“No, since you’re certain, I’ll register you. If you succeed, there’s a city at the border called Clear River City. Our guild has a branch there. You may deliver the task and claim your reward directly.”

“Thank you.” With the registration complete, the two walked out into the wide open square.

In the distance, Ye Xiang’s departing figure grew smaller, and a cold light flashed in Ye Zihan’s eyes. He clenched his fists, having already decided to seize this opportunity to wash away the humiliation of being mocked as a useless fool years ago.

This was Ye Zihan’s way: vengeance was never left unclaimed. He was no sage, never one to talk of magnanimity.

Beside him, Yan Chen bared his teeth. Ye Xiang’s arrogance had already provoked his ire; were it not for the power behind the guild, he would have taught Ye Xiang a lesson with his fists. Though Ye Xiang was a descendant of the Ye clan, the hidden Yan family was not to be slighted either!

Having taken the task, Ye Zihan and Yan Chen wasted not a moment, heading north toward the Lost Bamboo Forest.

Fortuitously, Ten Directions City lay at the northern edge of human territory, only a few hundred li from the Beast Domain, with two cities in between. At their pace, they would reach their destination by dusk on the third day.

Meanwhile, Ye Xiang’s group was already riding swift horses, moving at more than twice their speed. By noon on the third day, they would surely arrive at the Lost Bamboo Forest.

But in Ye Zihan and Yan Chen’s estimation, Ye Xiang’s party would likely rest for a night before attempting their task.

“These people, with their lofty status, hardly care for the reward. I suspect they’re merely seeking to temper themselves,” Yan Chen said quietly, then frowned as a thought struck him. “Zihan, do you know Ye Xiang?”

This time, Ye Zihan did not conceal it. “Not only do I know him, we share a history—one might even call it a grudge.”

“A grudge?” Yan Chen’s curiosity was piqued; from their shared surname, he had already sensed something unusual. Now, hearing there was a feud, he was even more intrigued, and a little excited. “Heh, then all the more reason not to let them off lightly. Let’s make sure they suffer for it.”

He asked no further, instead plotting with his companion as they journeyed north, discussing how best to disrupt Ye Xiang’s plans and make him taste defeat.

Though their acquaintance was recent, the two were kindred spirits. Yan Chen reasoned that if Ye Zihan wished to tell him more, he would do so without prompting.

Their journey was dull, much like the path of cultivation itself; but with a goal ahead, even a winding road promised an interesting outcome to those who persevered.

Time slipped by as they traveled, and three days passed in the blink of an eye.

At dusk, as the sun dipped low and golden light spilled across the world, the evening clouds painted beauty across the sky like poetry come to life.

Arriving at the border city called Clear River City, Ye Zihan and Yan Chen quickly found an inn. Whether by chance or design, Ye Xiang’s group had chosen the same lodging and were currently dining.

Yan Chen shot Ye Zihan a look, a glint of mischief passing between them as he nodded, plotting his move.

They found seats and ordered food. The inn’s service was brisk, and soon wine and dishes were brought forth.

Yan Chen rose from the table, wine bottle in hand. After only a sip, he feigned drunkenness, weaving unsteadily through the common room.

“How bright the moon tonight? Where waits the lovely lady in her chamber?” he slurred, wandering in the direction of Ye Xiang’s table.

Ye Xiang’s companions scowled.

“Damn drunk, ruining our mood!”

“Hey, you drunkard—if you want to recite poetry, take it outside, or you’ll taste my fists!”

Though Yan Chen cut a handsome figure, his scholarly air and white robes marked him as a frail, penniless scholar.

Ye Xiang sneered. “When traveling, peace is the highest virtue. If a mad dog barks, best to ignore it.”

He did not even deign to look at Yan Chen, his face full of self-importance, as if he were a cloud in the sky and the other mere grass on the ground.

Yan Chen had been looking for an excuse to approach them, and their provocations were just what he needed.

Shaking the wine bottle, he feigned anger. “Who are you calling names, you turtle-bred bastards?”

“What? You bookworm dare insult us? You must be tired of living!” roared a burly man at Ye Xiang’s side, rising to his feet. Broad-shouldered and scarred from eye to chin, he was clearly not one to cross.

Another companion, thin as a reed and shifty-eyed, would have made a decent-looking woman but as a man was merely a laughingstock.

“I... I...” Yan Chen stammered, fear plastered across his face.

Ye Zihan’s eyes flashed. Stepping in, he said, “Gentlemen, this is my brother. He gets loose-tongued after a drink. If he’s offended you, I beg your pardon. Please, show mercy.”

With that, Ye Zihan grabbed Yan Chen by the ear. “You wastrel! Drinking all day, causing trouble—Father died of rage because of you, and now you’d drive me to my grave as well?”

Yan Chen yelped in pain, the wine bottle crashing to the floor.

“Go apologize to the gentlemen at once!”

Yan Chen nodded meekly and, with a drunken hiccup, staggered to Ye Xiang’s table. As he bowed in apology, a sprinkling of fine, crystalline powder slipped from his sleeve—hardly noticeable without catching the candlelight.

The scarred man cursed, “You little bastard, ruined our mood. Think an apology is enough? Take a couple punches first!” He raised his fist, but Ye Xiang stopped him.

“Spare the mad dog. On the road, magnanimity is key. No need to stoop to the level of such mongrels,” Ye Xiang said loftily. Having recently placed tenth in the Five Elements Gathering—even if by a slim margin—he reveled in his superiority, especially here in this backwater town.

“He’s right. On Young Master Ye’s account, we’ll spare your life. Kneel and thank him!” the scarred man declared, revealing Ye Xiang’s status as the leader.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you, young master,” Ye Zihan interjected, striving to smooth things over. He could see Yan Chen’s face hardening; though this was an act, being so insulted and humiliated chafed at his proud spirit.

Yan Chen was pulled away, his drunkenness convincing to all who watched.

“Keep a tighter leash on your dog of a brother, or you may not meet such tolerant dog-lovers again. Two mutts heading to the Beast Domain’s border—are you courting death?” Ye Xiang’s sudden jibe drew laughter from the townsfolk.

Ye Zihan halted abruptly. He could bear insults to himself, but not to his brother. Fury flared, and he was about to act when Yan Chen muttered through gritted teeth, “Don’t be rash! I’ve already doused them with Golden Fragrance Powder. They’ll be running to the privy all night. Once we’re in the Lost Bamboo Forest, we’ll settle the score for good!”

Suppressing his anger, Ye Zihan and Yan Chen returned to their room, both breathing hard with rage. But at least the retribution awaiting Ye Xiang’s party had already begun to take effect.

(The home internet is fixed—two updates daily to make up for the missed chapters.)