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Right on cue, the wind changed direction. He Lingchuan flicked his wrist, scattering a stream of powder from a bamboo tube that sent thick waves of yellow smoke rolling across the web.
This was Willow’s custom poison smoke. It was great for driving off insects, birds, and people. He had gotten his hands on the formula for it a long time ago, and over the past few days, he had casually recreated several batches of his own.
His version definitely was not as pure as Willow’s, but he did not need it to be. As long as he could get about seventy percent of the original’s punch, which should already be enough to knock groups down or at least leave them half-paralyzed, then that would already be plenty.
Once the smoke spread, whole clusters of birds and bats wilted on the net, struggling to move and failing.
Speed and efficiency-wise, it beat throwing bamboo skewers by a mile.
He Lingchuan and the three mandrills went through them one by one, picking them up and tossing them off the web.
Another two hours passed, and the first bucket was finally full of imperial nectar. Grinning from ear to ear, He Lingchuan poured it into a container inside his storage ring, emptied the bucket, and set it back in place.
By the second half of the night, the flow picked up noticeably. Some of the syrup even carried faint red threads.
He was exhausted, but a single...
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