Chapter Forty-Three: The Tuī Family

A sudden gust of wind rushed through the cavern, thinning the faint scent of blood in the air as it swept away fragments of bee carcasses and clumps of earth. Dusk was falling, and the stone walls within the cave intermittently flickered with a subtle red light, casting a stifling and ominous glow over the dim interior.

A pale red blade, now stripped of its former sharpness, flashed through the air. Its crooked arc resembled the idle scrawl of a child. The exhausted Blood God Bee twisted mid-flight, and the blood-reeking blade slid past its venomous stinger. Still struggling to stay aloft, the bee’s feeble mind could not fathom why the figure below pursued it relentlessly.

It had dodged such strikes more than a dozen times. Had the cavern’s ceiling not limited its flight, had its brethren not vanished without a trace, it surely would have—

The thought was abruptly cut short. The Blood God Bee tried to climb higher, hoping to evade the cold gleam from below, but perhaps that unbidden thought made it hesitate for a split second. The tip of the blade collided with its stinger.

The force of the blow passed from the stinger to the bee’s body. Had the man below not been utterly spent, the bee would have been sent flying and gravely wounded. Now, such a clash only made it stagger back a few steps.

But those few steps were all it took. The bee’s head struck the rock ceiling. Bits of stone tumbled down—not enough to injure, but enough to leave the Blood God Bee dazed for a heartbeat.

Seizing the moment, the man on the ground, his face caked with dust, glimpsed a spark in his weary eyes. He swung his blade, splitting the dazed bee open from its belly.

Had anyone looked closely, they would have seen his lips moving as though muttering under his breath.

“The seventh one… wait, was it the eighth? Where did I leave off counting?”

No sign of another bee lingered within sight. Finally, Chen Qi sheathed his blade and, dragging his fatigued body, rejoined the others.

His mission progress now read:

Current Beast Spirit Resentment: 77/100

This was the result of Chen Qi’s chaotic pursuit; many of the kills had been from panicked bees crashing into him in desperation.

It was a curious thing: the moment their leader died, the Blood God Bees seemed to sense something in the air. Their formation collapsed, reason gave way to panic, and in the end, they broke apart completely—a stark contrast to their initial frenzy.

As he approached, Chen Qi saw the team leader, Senior Sister, unleash blasts of vital energy. Several streaks of green light shot out, blasting a shallow pit in the cavern floor.

Nearby lay the corpse of the sly-eyed outer disciple. His clothes were utterly shredded, his exposed skin riddled with wounds from venomous stingers. Yet his face still bore a look of satisfaction.

With a quiet sigh, the team leader summoned her vital energy, lifting the corpse gently into the pit. A soft motion of her arm, and nearby earth swiftly filled the grave.

At some point, all the disciples had gathered at the pit's edge. Their faces were solemn and heavy, some tinged with sorrow. The round-faced young woman pressed her palms together, mouthing prayers.

Catching sight of Chen Qi, Sun Ruohai stepped closer. His robe was nearly in tatters, his face pale and drawn, yet the faint scent of medicine on his breath was so soothing that even Chen Qi felt his mind clear.

With a tone of remembrance, Sun Ruohai spoke, "The disciple who died was named Zhang Wei—a common name, matched by his ordinary background and meager talent."

Before Chen Qi could fully process this, Sun continued, "He struggled for more than a decade to rise from menial duties to the outer sect. Knowing he would never make it to the inner sect, he took this risk for the hope of a story to tell after leaving the order.”

The tall disciple at the back added, “Brother Zhang knew his own limits. Among the outer disciples, he ran a few small businesses, sometimes selling gossip. He’d managed to save a fair number of contribution points. He…”

His words trailed off into silence. As a traveler from another world, Chen Qi felt little personal grief, only a faint pang of fellow-feeling for those struggling along the path to strength.

The lives of the weak are always marked by helplessness. Chen Qi had set foot on this road in hope of more choices, in times of crisis, in monotony and exhaustion, in the loneliness of being set apart from the world.

At that moment, he felt a complex gaze fixed on him—bitterness, gratitude, confusion, pain—all sharp enough to pierce his soul.

He turned and met the gaze of the one-armed disciple named Ao, saying nothing.

A long silence passed. Just as the clawed disciple nearby was about to intervene, Ao finally spoke, his voice so parched and hollow it seemed lifeless:

"Your blade should have severed my neck, not my arm."

He did not wait for a reply, merely turned away to face the wall, lost in his own thoughts.

Watching, a question flickered through Chen Qi’s mind:

"What, in the end, does strength mean to a living being? And when that strength is stripped away, what remains?"

His thoughts tumbled. Chen Qi smiled wryly and shook his head. With the life he’d lived so far, he was in no position to answer. Yet he had a sense that when he finally found the answer, his life’s evolution would shake the very heavens.

“All right, let’s find the Blood God Bees’ nest, wipe them out, and set up camp for the night,” the team leader declared, her voice suddenly vibrant as if swept up by the mood. No longer gentle and clear, it rang with energy.

By the dim red light, the group pressed on in order. The team leader led, her delicate nose twitching as she adjusted their path.

Soon, Chen Qi saw a red sphere nestled in a recess of the rock wall, glowing with a depth beyond the surrounding stone.

The sphere was as large as four or five grown men; its outer shell was formed from the cave’s own earth—far greater in size than any hive Chen Qi had seen on Earth.

Without a word, the team leader raised her sword. A streak of violet sword energy split the hive in two.

It parted along the fissure, revealing a spiral structure within, layers of red honey growing darker toward the center, until at the very heart it turned pitch black.

Strangely, the hive was utterly silent. Not a single Blood God Bee remained, as if it were nothing but an abandoned nest.

The team leader frowned slightly and thrust her sword again, aiming for the hive’s core.

The black inner wall was torn open, and violet light illuminated the scene:

Inside lay a bee even larger than the Blood God Bee leader. Its black and crimson fur was dense and long, making it look from afar like a small velvet rug. Its body was bloated and round, but its abdomen had been completely hollowed out—it had been dead for some time.

Behind the corpse was a small pool formed of honey, filled with a viscous, black semi-solid that exuded an indescribable odor.

The scent was so thick with blood it became sweet, stirring each person’s blood to race, every cell in their bodies suddenly yearning for the substance.

A third of the pool’s surface was gone, and in the rear of the hive, traces of that black semi-solid could be seen dripping to the ground.