Confusing and Unpredictable

Entering the woods, Wang Anfeng didn't descend the mountain. Instead, he walked toward the exit for a while, deliberately leaving many tracks. Then, he used the Nine Palaces Step to change direction and went back up. The others, unaware, simply followed the path in pursuit. They reached the plaque and saw the tragic state of the two guards, which caused a wave of gasps.

Meanwhile, Wang Anfeng had already grabbed his two friends and was sprinting, heading straight for Xue Qinshuang's residence. Xiahou Xuan, held by him, felt his heart pounding rapidly in the dangerous situation. Seeing this, he whispered, "You're going to hide at Xue Thirteen's place?"

"No, it's here."

Wang Anfeng replied, rushing straight toward Liu Wuqiu's house by the Jiangnan pavilion. He shouldered open the loosely shut door and burst in. He then carefully closed the wooden door before finally letting out a sigh of relief. He sat down on the ground, sweat beading on his forehead, panting, "Okay... okay, here, we can..."

Xiahou Xuan was silent for a moment and said, "The most dangerous place is the safest place, but many people know that."

Wang Anfeng glanced at him, catching his breath, and said, "I just need to find the antidote."

"Since it could fool you, this poison must be very valuable. The antidote will surely be carefully guarded."

Xiahou Xuan frowned, "But the antidote might be on him."

At this point, Wang Anfeng had already started rummaging through things, flipping through them at lightning speed, and said without looking back, "No, Uncle Li said that those who are deep, dark, and malicious often hide the antidote. That way, even if they are killed, the poisoned person will fall into deeper despair after their initial joy, and seven or eight times out of ten, they'll choose to take their own life."

"Only poisons used purely for threat might have the antidote on them. Besides, we have no other way. The two guards at the entrance blocking the main road, I'm no match for them." Although he had reacted instinctively to the situation, Wang Anfeng still felt something was off.

Earlier, he had misjudged the opponent's strength. Liu Wuqiu's palm strike had landed squarely on his back. The strike was fierce, but it only provided a gentle push to help him escape. He was unharmed, yet the old man had gasped in shock, talking about Qi-Protecting Armor.

The outer garment he was wearing was given to him by Xue Qinshuang, and the inner clothes were made from fabric he had torn himself. How could cloth that cost thirty wen per foot be Qi-Protecting Armor?

And the method of poisoning, combining alcohol and meat, although potent, would likely fail if someone, like him, didn't drink or didn't like these dishes, right? Wouldn't a poison mist be better?

Xiahou Xuan, unaware of Wang Anfeng's thoughts, felt that what he said made a lot of sense. Outside, shouts could be heard approaching, then receding. Wang Anfeng's movements became faster and faster. Even though he tried to keep his voice down, there were still slight rustles. Every faint sound of collision was like a thunderclap in Xiahou Xuan's ears, making his heart race.

He had lived for fifteen years but had never been as terrified as he was today.

The house had a front and back hall, not very large. Wang Anfeng quickly searched everywhere but found no medicine. There was only a jar of aged wine, left for who knows how long, which Wang Anfeng casually tossed onto the bed. Xiahou Xuan, watching Wang Anfeng's slightly furrowed brow, felt his throat dry and whispered, "Tap the walls, see if there are any hidden rooms."

Wang Anfeng nodded and tapped carefully, but there was nothing unusual. The walls were solid, causing Xiahou Xuan's heart to sink further. He thought bitterly, "I sent the guards away this time, but I didn't expect to trap myself in this situation..."

"Tanghulu, oh tanghulu... your husband is about to die here... Remember to remain a widow for your husband..."

Crack!

Just then, a crisp sound suddenly came. Xiahou Xuan trembled slightly, his heart instantly accelerating. Upon realizing that the sound hadn't attracted enemies, he let out a long sigh, his eyes shining as he looked at Wang Anfeng. The latter was carefully opening a hidden compartment by the bedside. Xiahou Xuan, no longer caring about his composure, asked with a hint of anxiety, "How is it? Is it medicine?! Bring it here, let me see..."

Wang Anfeng sighed softly, causing Xiahou Xuan's heart to sink. The former had already stood up and walked over, holding nothing more than a folding fan.

A short poem was written on it in a delicate script, clearly by a woman. The fan surface had already turned yellow, an old item from who knows how many years ago. Xiahou Xuan reluctantly took it but couldn't discern anything unusual. With his eyesight, he could only tell that the fan was likely an old item from sixty or seventy years ago.

A false hope dashed, Young Master Xiahou finally fell into despair, feeling powerless. He casually threw the fan down and sighed, "There's nothing we can do. I'll make some noise later, and you should leave first. We're still worth some silver, me and this idiot. Go down the mountain to the county town, find a consumptive person holding a zither in the largest inn. If you hurry, we might still have a breath left..."

Wang Anfeng was silent for a moment, his gaze falling on the withered folding fan. It had been kept very well, without a single scratch. Only on the poem had four characters been circled with bright red cinnabar, as if admired. But besides that, there was nothing special. He looked up at Xiahou Xuan and said, "...Be careful yourself, don't make a sound. I have my own way to escape."

"Hold on."

Xiahou Xuan was slightly startled and said urgently in a low voice, "What are you going to do?!"

"I'm going to burn their stables. The horses of those noble family members are enough to cause some chaos."

Wang Anfeng took off his slightly oversized outer robe, wearing only his fitted attire. He tightened his wrist guards and placed his hand on the door. "Be careful with everything, don't worry about me."

"You..."

Before Xiahou Xuan could finish speaking, Wang Anfeng opened the door with extreme agility, rolled into a patch of grass, and then crouched low, heading towards the stables he remembered passing by today. If it weren't for the Green Dappled Horse's fierce nature, he might have put it in the stables then.

In the dead of night, Wang Anfeng walked swiftly alone in the enemy's lair, extremely cautious. But for some reason, the more he walked, the clearer the poem on the fan became in his mind. The four newly circled characters in cinnabar were glaringly red, like fresh blood...

Wait, newly circled?!

Wang Anfeng's steps suddenly halted, his pupils contracting slightly. The feeling of unease that had just surfaced became increasingly apparent.

It was an old item... something treasured very dearly. Why would it have newly circled cinnabar?

It circled four words... "Serious illness will surely cause drunkenness."

Poem... poem...

Wang Anfeng's brow furrowed even tighter. The increasingly strong sense of unease made him anxious. Just then, two sets of footsteps could be heard not far away. His pupils constricted, and he pressed himself down, his breathing as subtle as a forest creature's. His right hand rested on the dagger at his waist. Two middle-aged men, holding long sabers, walked over, talking.

"Father's plan today has completely backfired..."

"Who says not? The guards at the mountain pass were killed, and those two brats are probably gone. And he bought a poem to impress the Altar Master. Hmph, all his efforts were in vain, and it's you and I who suffer... that old geezer!"

Kinoe and the other person were long gone, but Wang Anfeng remained frozen as if struck by lightning. His eyes gleamed slightly as a series of unsettling thoughts surfaced in his mind. They quickly connected, forming a clear picture.

"I am but a humble servant, I have written a poem myself. I hope my young nephews will offer their critiques."

The new poem, the fresh vermillion ink, the unlocked door, the method of poisoning where both wine and meat were indispensable, and the palm strike that appeared to be an attack but was merely a push.

"Sickness and Conviction," these four words perfectly corresponded to the four lines of the poem.

The Great Dao is inherently difficult for man to comprehend. Sickness nurtures the spirit, better than medicine. Where is the Altar Master He who calms the scene today? Drunk, seeking tavern wine in the night rain.

If these four lines were arranged normally, they wouldn't follow the rules of poetry. But if the first character of each line corresponded to the last character of each line, then those four words would be...

Wang Anfeng's pupils contracted sharply. He remembered the aged wine he had casually tossed onto the bed.

"The antidote is in the wine!"

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