Tang San struggled to his feet, forcing himself to straighten despite the searing pain throughout his body. "Do I need to win a war of words against you?
What meaning would that have for me?
Your poison is indeed formidable, but it is still trash.
Poison arts are meant to poison one's enemies, yet even you have been poisoned. Isn't your poison still trash?"
"Ridiculous! My poison would poison me?
I am seventy-eight years old. All my life, I have only ever poisoned others—never has anyone poisoned me."
Dugu Bo looked coldly at Tang San, but this time, he did not attack again.
Tang San snorted disdainfully. "Is that really so?
Then let me ask you: whenever it is cloudy and rainy, do your ribs become numb and itchy, with the sensation gradually intensifying?
It acts up once at noon and once at midnight. Given your current condition, each episode should last for more than two full hours.
And every night, around the third watch, do the crown of your head and the Yongquan points on the soles of your feet feel as though they are being pierced by needles?
Your entire body convulses for at least an hour.
There is no need for me to describe that agonizing process, is there?
Would such symptoms appear if you were not poisoned?
Not only have you been poisoned, but the poison has already seeped into your bones."
"Y-you... how do you know?"
Dugu Bo cried out instinctively.
Tang San's description was as though he had witnessed it firsthand.
This could be called Dugu Bo's greatest secret. Even his beloved granddaughter had never known it.
Killing intent surged in Dugu Bo's eyes, his icy murderous aura seeming as though it would pierce straight through Tang San.
The killing intent released from Dugu