Chapter 40: There Is No Such Thing as a Free Python Meal

"To counter the ferocity of the Thunder Fusion Beast, the martial arts masters of the past devised a strategy: they raised a creature capable of restraining the Thunder Fusion Beast—namely, the Golden Battle Python," Han Mo explained.

"Golden Battle Python?" Chu Feng was startled, then asked, "So that enormous python wasn’t wild? It was actually bred by your Storm Thunder Martial Hall?"

"Precisely so! Not only was it specially raised, but it was also fed rare medicines from childhood, cared for with exceptional attention. By now, this Golden Battle Python is nearly one hundred and twenty years old," Han Mo said.

Chu Feng was utterly shocked, never having imagined the truth behind the python. He’d assumed it was just a wild beast, never considering it belonged to the Storm Thunder Martial Hall, much less that it had been raised for over a century.

"As one force restrains another, the Thunder Fusion Beast fears nothing but the python—especially a Golden Battle Python raised on spiritual medicine. This python, now in its prime, was meant to play a crucial role in the upcoming tenth Storm Thunder Cataclysm. But on a recent night of the full moon, it went berserk, broke free from its cage, and escaped from the martial hall," Han Mo continued. "At that time, our master immediately dispatched our top experts to capture it, declaring that live capture was preferred, but if that proved impossible, even the corpse must be recovered. Unexpectedly, after devouring our expert Tang Dong, the python slipped into the Heavenly Wolf River, drifting downstream for a thousand miles until it suddenly leapt ashore and died, where it was found by Young Lord Chu, who happened to be practicing his martial skills by the riverbank."

Han Mo’s words thus revealed the Golden Battle Python’s fate and what transpired.

"Your sect desired its return alive or dead, but after I dismembered the python and ate much of it, did I not ruin your plans?" Chu Feng asked at once. "I still have about three hundred pounds of python meat in my storage pouch. If I hand it over now, is it still of any use?"

"It’s too late," Han Mo replied with a wry smile. "While alive, the Golden Battle Python could completely suppress the Thunder Fusion Beast’s ferocity. After its death, only its gallbladder, the size of a wine jar, retained its value. A warrior consuming a piece of gallbladder meat would gain an advantage against the beast. But you, Young Lord Chu, have already consumed the gallbladder. The remaining python meat, though valuable to you, is now worthless to our martial hall."

"I see..." Chu Feng was at a loss for words.

What’s eaten is like water spilled—he certainly couldn’t cough up the gallbladder now.

"Uncle Han, is there any way to make amends?" Chu Feng asked ruefully. He had unwittingly sabotaged the martial hall’s plans by feasting on a chance-found python, and guilt weighed heavily on his heart.

Mu Zhentong also looked anxiously at Han Mo, sensing that whatever remedy Chu Feng referred to was indeed the reason for Han Mo’s visit that day.

"There is but one way," Han Mo declared, "and it is precisely why I’ve come. Signs of the tenth Storm Thunder Cataclysm are already emerging, and our only hope of overcoming it was the Golden Battle Python—which, as fate would have it, you have consumed. So—our humble request is this: that you, Young Lord Chu, come to the Storm Thunder Martial Hall, and join our experts in entering the Storm Thunder Grotto to help us resolve this tenth cataclysm!"

"Ah?"

Though Chu Feng had already suspected as much, hearing it confirmed left him uneasy. The Storm Thunder Grotto—just the name evoked dread. With only his fourth-tier Body Refinement strength, would he not be risking his life by entering?

Chu Feng was not reckless; he hesitated, unable to give an immediate answer.

"Brother Han, your Storm Thunder Martial Hall has long been ranked first among the ten perils of the eighteen ridges and nine mountains. Even with the python’s power to restrain the Thunder Fusion Beast, how could Chu Feng possibly withstand the storms and lightning within the grotto?" Mu Zhentong interjected.

Hearing this, Chu Feng felt a warm surge in his heart. He had never known what it felt like to be cared for by an elder; Mu Zhentong’s concern was deeply touching.

"Brother Mu, you may not know: once Young Lord Chu and our experts enter the Storm Thunder Grotto, they won’t confront the storms head-on. Instead, with map in hand, they’ll reposition certain stones according to the markings. By shifting the boulders, the storms and lightning will gradually neutralize each other, lessening until the cataclysm is dispelled," Han Mo explained.

"Oh? So there’s no danger for Chu Feng in entering the grotto?" Mu Zhentong asked, still skeptical.

"I wouldn’t go that far. Though not a death sentence, some danger is inevitable. Nevertheless, I can assure you, on behalf of the Storm Thunder Martial Hall, that Young Lord Chu’s safety will be guaranteed," Han Mo said with utmost sincerity. "Brother Mu, you and I have known each other for many years; you know my character. Allow me to share this: our hall master, Lei Yingfeng’s own daughter, Lei Jianqin, will also enter the grotto with Young Lord Chu. If the journey were truly perilous, would the hall master risk his daughter’s life?"

"Indeed," Mu Zhentong nodded.

From what he knew of Han Mo, who as Lei Yingfeng’s junior handled all external affairs reliably, the man’s word was trustworthy. Moreover, the hall master’s daughter would personally accompany Chu Feng, which set both Mu Zhentong’s and Chu Feng’s minds at ease.

Though Chu Feng wished to make amends for consuming the Golden Battle Python, it did not mean he was willing to risk his life for the martial hall.

Seeing Mu Zhentong’s lingering hesitation, Han Mo added, "Brother Mu, I know you care for Young Lord Chu as your own. Allow me to make a promise: if any harm comes to him in the Storm Thunder Grotto, I will compensate the Mu family tenfold. If I go back on my word, may I be struck by lightning, and may disaster befall the Storm Thunder Martial Hall year after year..."

"Enough! Brother Han, there’s no need for such oaths. I trust you completely," Mu Zhentong said with a broad smile. "With your assurances, I am at ease. Chu Feng, if you have any doubts, you may consult your Uncle Han. And of course, if you truly feel unable to help, your Uncle Han is a reasonable man—he won’t force you."

At these words, Han Mo’s heart clenched with anxiety.

He had thought that Mu Zhentong’s agreement meant Chu Feng would comply, but that was not the case. The final decision rested with Chu Feng alone. If Chu Feng refused, and Han Mo tried to coerce him, Mu Zhentong would surely intervene.

"Young Lord Chu, what is your decision?" Han Mo steadied himself and asked.

"Uncle Han, there’s no such thing as a free meal, let alone python meat! Since I have eaten the Golden Battle Python raised by your martial hall for a century and more, I am willing to lend my aid in this time of need," Chu Feng replied readily.

Now that he understood the true nature of the dangers within the grotto, he was willing to go without further excuse.

"Excellent! There are no free meals, nor is any effort unrewarded. Once this tenth cataclysm is overcome, the Storm Thunder Martial Hall will properly thank you, Young Lord Chu," Han Mo replied cheerfully.

"Very well," Chu Feng nodded in agreement.

Four months from today would be the decisive battle against the Xiong clan of the Dread Gate. Currently, Chu Feng’s strength was far below that of their experts. With such a short time, following the usual paths of cultivation would never let him catch up. If he hoped to surpass the Xiong clan, he needed a fortuitous encounter.

If he could assist the Storm Thunder Martial Hall through this tribulation and earn their gratitude, it could be a blessing in disguise—and perhaps, the supposed calamity of entering the grotto might not be a calamity at all.

"Uncle Han, when should I depart for the martial hall?" Chu Feng asked.

"The sooner, the better! Could you set out now?" Han Mo replied eagerly.

"Not quite yet—I have a few personal matters to attend to. In three days, I will head for the Storm Thunder Martial Hall. Will that suffice?"

"Three days?" Han Mo frowned slightly, then removed a token from his belt and handed it to Chu Feng. "Take my waist token. Wherever our martial hall has influence, present this token and our disciples will escort you straight to the hall. It will save you both time and hardship."

"Thank you," Chu Feng said, accepting the token.

Han Mo, being a man of action, having made his arrangements with Chu Feng, bid farewell to Mu Zhentong and departed swiftly with his men.