Dizziness Is Normal

At an empty street corner, before a familiar stall and in a familiar seat, Yang Ling sat down, twisting his neck.

"Boil me a pound of wontons!"

"Right away, sir. Please wait a moment."

The peddler, with a long beard and a felt cap, bent over and busied himself.

The sky was still dark, and there were barely any passersby nearby.

Yang Ling was the snack stall's first customer of the day.

Before long, the wontons came out of the pot, and the peddler hurriedly brought them over with both hands.

As he walked, the peddler's thumb inevitably touched the soup in the bowl.

But this was a roadside stall to begin with; there was no need for so many niceties. Clean and sanitary was enough.

Naturally, Yang Ling did not care. He had spent the entire night shouting incantations at the gambling den and was starving out of his mind.

Ignoring the heat, he impatiently stuffed two wontons into his mouth.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—"

"So hot!"

But even more than that, it was comforting.

This was the taste... No, wait!

Had something else been added to the seasoning today?

Why was there an extra burst of intoxicating sweetness compared to before?!

Martial artists had keen ears and sharp eyes, their senses greatly enhanced in every respect, including smell and taste.

He came to this wonton stall about once every two or three days.

Whether he had spent the night chanting spells at the gambling den or listening to songs at the pleasure house, coming here for a bowl of wontons in the morning had become Yang Ling's habit.

So even the slightest change in flavor was immediately apparent to him.

Perhaps noticing Yang Ling's confusion, the peddler quickly came closer.

"Sir, what's wrong?"

Yang Ling frowned instinctively. "What's with your wontons today... Mm!?"

He had never expected the peddler to suddenly strike, locking him up from behind.

At the same time, a jet-black palm, sickeningly sweet-smelling, clamped over his mouth.

Yang Ling was both shocked and enraged. He immediately tried to unleash all his strength and burst into resistance.

But the moment he tried to circulate his power, his whole body went limp and weak, while his head began to spin unbearably.

The feeling was like listening to five women singing at once in a pleasure house.

"Poison!"

"There was poison in the wontons, and this hand is even more poisonous!"

Yang Ling realized it in an instant, but it was already too late.

With his mouth covered, he could not even beg for mercy. All he could do was kick his legs wildly in vain.

The next moment, a low voice, deliberately made hoarse, sounded beside his ear.

"Take a deep breath. Dizziness is normal!"

"Sleep..."

As soon as the words fell, Yang Ling completely lost consciousness.

After taking down Yang Ling, the peddler quickly searched out Yang Ling's winnings from the gambling den the night before.

Then he left without lingering in the slightest.

Only after making sure he was safe did the peddler remove his disguise, toss away the felt cap and fake beard, and reveal his originally plain yet handsome face.

That handsome face could rank among the best in all of Yuan Guang County. Who else could it be but Zou Feng?

He had waited a long time for this opportunity and prepared for it just as long.

He had studied Yang Ling's schedule and observed all his habits.

Yang Ling already enjoyed nighttime activities. If he was not listening to songs at a pleasure house, then he was chanting spells at a gambling den.

That gave Zou Feng great convenience.

All he had to do was sneak out of Yang Estate in the dead of night and follow Yang Ling from afar.

And today, the opportunity Zou Feng had been waiting for had finally come.

One look at Yang Ling as he left the gambling den told him that he had won money.

It was the perfect chance to make his coins burst forth.

So Zou Feng immediately went ahead to the wonton stall, knocked the peddler unconscious, and changed into his clothes as a disguise.

Using this method to ambush Yang Ling had naturally been planned long ago. The peddler had a similar build to his, and he carried the fake beard with him at all times.

In truth, even if he had not resorted to such underhanded tricks, Zou Feng was confident he could take down Yang Ling.

After all, Yang Ling was already in a state of chronic poisoning from the side effects of the Five Poisons Palm.

On top of that, he had stayed up all night gambling himself ragged. Exhausted as he was, he probably could not even bring out seventy percent of his original strength.

Yet Zou Feng considered himself a cultivator of evil arts, destined to be an evil cultivator. So why should he not play dirty?

Only then could he reduce any possible unexpected developments to the bare minimum.

He only wanted to safely make Yang Ling's coins burst forth. He had no intention of killing him.

After all, Yang Ling still had to continue carrying the burden forward for him.

Thus, Zou Feng had exercised restraint with both the poison he slipped into the wontons with his thumb and the poison he used when covering Yang Ling's mouth and nose.

It would make him faint, but not kill him.

This ambush had gone extremely smoothly.

Though they had not truly exchanged blows, Zou Feng had gained a new understanding of his own strength.

"Though I struck with intent against one who had none, once I made my move, Yang Ling, despite being a trained fighter, could not react at all."

"That means my speed is already no less than that of the martial instructors guarding Yang Estate..."

Zou Feng had once happened to pass by and see Yang Ling spar with one of the estate's martial instructors.

At the time, the speed Yang Ling displayed when striking had only been slightly greater than that of the instructor.

Thinking about it that way, had he been a little too cautious?

No. It was never wrong to be more cautious!

He had to remember at all times: he was an evil cultivator.

An evil cultivator should have the style of an evil cultivator...

By the time Zou Feng returned to the woodshed, dawn was only just beginning to break.

It was worth mentioning that Zou Feng's ability to come and go through Yang Estate unnoticed was also thanks to cultivating the Five Poisons Palm.

The several vicious dogs raised by Third Young Master Yang Yanpeng were far more useful at guarding the gate than the estate's martial instructors.

Thus, after nightfall, practically no one patrolled Yang Estate. Only those vicious dogs prowled along the courtyard walls.

But vicious dogs also feared poison. The moment they caught the scent emitted from Zou Feng's palms when he circulated his power, they fled from far away.

That greatly facilitated Zou Feng's comings and goings at night.

Next came the joyous time of counting his spoils.

Yang Ling had truly won quite a lot over the course of that night.

Twelve taels of silver in cash, plus a one-hundred-tael silver note.

He had struck it rich!

Sure enough, this was the proper way for an evil cultivator to make money.

Thinking back, his previous plan of saving through kickbacks and profit shares would have taken until the monkeys grew old and the horses died just to scrape together a hundred taels.

With this money, he could finally try his luck at the Ghost Market.

But he could not rush it yet.

Though the Ghost Market supposedly had local gangs keeping watch and maintaining basic order, it was still an unsafe place in the end.

To be safe, he should wait until the Five Poisons Palm advanced to its next stage and his strength rose again. Only then would he feel secure.

With that in mind, while it was still early, Zou Feng brought out the urine jar filled with venomous liquid and began cultivating again.

Poor Yang Ling was still deeply unconscious, yet Zou Feng still had to stand on him and pedal.

Once Yang Ling woke up this time, he would likely be in for a serious illness.

That morning, when Yang Ling was carried back, the Yang Family head naturally flew into a rage.

After all, in Yuan Guang County, no one had dared provoke the Yang Family for a very long time.

Not only because his youngest daughter, Yang Qianqian, was exceptionally talented, had just entered the ranks, and had hopes of being selected by a sect.

There was also his eldest son, Yang Zhengfei, who had long since entered the ranks of martial arts and served in the Great Yan Dynasty's army.

Furthermore, the family head himself, as well as one of his younger brothers, were also ranked martial artists.

It was only that both men were already advanced in years, their blood and vitality declining, no longer possessing the courage of their prime.

If they truly fought, they could at most unleash a brief burst of power; they could not fight a prolonged battle at all.