I'm a Medicine Seller—So What If I Know How to Make a Little Poison?

At the exit, Yun Ye was lowering his head as he wiped the longsword in his hand. He was utterly unconcerned by Zhong Lin's departure, or by the two groups following behind him, as though nothing had happened.

Zhong Lin moved swiftly through the dense forest, the corners of his eyes sweeping over the shadowy figures behind him.

"So they came after all? When a tiger doesn't show its might, they really think I'm Hello Kitty." A trace of gloom flashed across Zhong Lin's face.

With a thought, he suddenly accelerated and vanished at a fork in the road.

"Not good, we've been spotted. Chase!"

Dong Yan of the Black Tiger Gang's expression changed. No longer bothering to hide, he broke into a sprint.

The four burly men behind him did not answer, but they too quickened their pace.

Dong Yan was the fastest. With his iron-tower build, he ran like a bear charging through the mountains, radiating an oppressive sense of power.

The four men behind him were only slightly slower. This alone showed that every one of them was a ranked martial artist.

On the other side, Skinny Monkey had also brought seven people and was following closely behind. The eight of them varied in speed, a mixed bag of fish and dragons.

Dong Yan chased for over a hundred meters. After rounding a corner, he discovered that Zhong Lin's figure had vanished from ahead.

His brow tightened, and his expression darkened.

"Damn it. Split up and chase him. I refuse to believe he can fly into the sky."

Whoosh!

A shrill tearing sound rang out. Before anyone could react, an arrow shot from the dense forest at a bizarre angle.

"An arrow? What a little rat."

Dong Yan wore a savage grin, paying the incoming arrow no heed whatsoever. As an Eighth Rank martial artist, his tendons and bones were strong, his skin like armored plating. He had long since ceased to fear such trifles. Unless it was an eight-stone powerful bow or a Divine Arm Crossbow, it could not possibly break through his defense.

He raised a hand to swat aside the incoming arrow, only to see it defy all reason, curve through an arc before him, and shoot straight toward a short man on his left.

Pfft!

Amid a muffled impact and everyone's incredulous stares, the arrow struck the short man squarely in the eye socket and pierced through his skull.

He was dead beyond saving.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Dong Yan's face finally changed. He shouted, "Everyone, be careful!"

Even as he spoke, his body twisted and shifted, his palm striking toward the arrows speeding at him.

Martial artists were exceptionally skilled at locating positions by sound. As long as they were prepared, they could easily evade an archer's hidden arrows.

The other three men, wielding either sabers or swords, did the same. Though the arrows could turn, it merely made things a little more troublesome.

Atop a large tree in the distance, Zhong Lin regretfully lowered the Iron Blank Bow in his hand.

"As strength rises, bows and arrows become less and less effective."

As long as Ninth Rank martial artists avoided their weak points, ordinary arrows could no longer pierce their defenses.

Eighth Rank martial artists had powerful tendons and bones, astonishing explosive strength, and even sharper five senses. Arrows could not even hit them.

Zhong Lin had never seen a Seventh Rank martial artist, but presumably arrows would be even more useless against them.

Thud!

A soft sound came from behind Dong Yan. A tall, thin man suddenly collapsed to the ground, foam spilling from the corners of his mouth.

"The arrows... the arrows are poisoned."

Only then did everyone notice that the man's clothing had been sliced open over his chest. On the exposed skin was a shallow wound, clearly inflicted when he had accidentally been grazed while dodging the arrows. Yet the wound had turned dark green, and black, foul-smelling blood seeped from it.

What vicious poison.

It had been no more than a small wound, yet it had claimed a life.

"Ah... I'll kill you!"

Dong Yan threw back his head and roared, icy killing intent flooding his entire body.

He had thought this was a game of cat and mouse, but before they had even seen their target, two of their men were dead.

Rustle!

Suddenly, a cloud of lime powder rained down from above, obscuring their vision and enveloping Dong Yan along with the remaining two men.

Windbreaker.

A tearing sound cut through the air. His vision blocked, Dong Yan instinctively dodged, while his large hand, dark as refined iron, lashed out in a fierce grab.

The martial art Dong Yan cultivated was called Mixed Iron Palm. More than half his skill lay in his pair of hands. Moreover, as an Eighth Rank martial artist, he possessed five hundred jin of strength. Combined with those iron palms, shattering steles and splitting rocks was nothing difficult.

Though his vision was obscured, Dong Yan had already pinpointed Zhong Lin's position through sound. A savage smile curled across his lips as he suddenly exerted force.

"Die!"

But in the next instant, his expression changed dramatically. He felt an enormous force from the other man's hand, not the least bit weaker than his own. In that instant, he could not move at all, and his once-steady breathing became rapid.

"You're Eighth Rank too? What a fragrance... poison, you despicable bastard."

As Dong Yan considered how to respond, he suddenly caught a whiff of fragrance. Then his head spun, and he immediately realized that the lime powder had been mixed with something like a bewildering incense.

Crack!

With the sound of bones breaking, Dong Yan's right arm was directly snapped by Zhong Lin.

Even so, Zhong Lin did not loosen his grip. The blade of the Ghost Head Saber in his right hand turned, and a flash of white swept past. Dong Yan's head flew into the air, while a stream of blood like a white ribbon sprayed from his neck, flying several feet before splattering to the ground.

By then, the lime powder had settled, and everyone's vision began to clear. Yet the first thing they saw upon opening their eyes was the head of their leader, staring in death with eyes that would not close.

"Boss Dong!"

The two surviving men cried out. Their hearts were filled with terror, but they had not forgotten the danger before them.

Zhong Lin flicked the Ghost Head Saber in his hand. Blood ran down the blood groove, and without pausing beneath his feet, he strode forward in pursuit.

The remaining two men had long since been scared out of their wits. Even Boss Dong, an Eighth Rank martial artist, had been cut down. How could they still have the courage to stay and fight? They immediately turned and fled.

Unfortunately, after only two steps, their heads began to spin and their limbs went weak.

"Poison."

Zhong Lin carried the Ghost Head Saber as he steadily drew closer, a half-smile on his face. "I'm a medicine seller. So what if I know how to make a little poison? Isn't that perfectly normal?"

Slash!

A flash of blade light passed by. A head flew up, blood spraying everywhere.

The sole remaining man was filled with terror. He kept begging, "Spare me... spare me... I have silver, let me go..."

Zhong Lin ignored him completely. Another slash, and another large head flew up.

The world was quiet again.

"Fool. Kill you, and the silver is mine too," Zhong Lin muttered.

He bent down and wiped his bloodstained hand on the man's clothes, then rose cleanly and decisively.

From beginning to end, the entire process had been a completely one-sided crushing defeat. It had taken only a few dozen breaths, yet who knew how many times it had been simulated beforehand.

Zhong Lin had already scouted this stretch of road countless times—which places were suitable for hiding, which for sneak attacks, which for escape, which for ambushes...

All of it had been mapped out through Zhong Lin's repeated scouting and simulations.

"Either don't make a move, or wipe them out completely. Since you don't want me to live, then I'll make sure you die first."

Zhong Lin's voice was low, filled with coldness.