"Fine." Dugu Bo pulled a porcelain bottle from his robes and tossed it over. "I won't stop you. But take this with you."
Bing Yekong caught the bottle, pulled out the stopper, and sniffed it, his brow furrowing slightly. "What medicine is this?"
"It's not medicine," Dugu Bo said. "It's poison."
Bing Yekong raised an eyebrow.
"I looked into Slaughter City when I was young." Dugu Bo sat up straight, his expression turning serious. "There's a kind of chronic poison there, supposedly formed from the bloodlust of the entire Hell Slaughter Arena eroding the place year after year. It's colorless and odorless, killing without a trace. Anyone who stays inside for more than a month will gradually start having hallucinations, become irritable and short-tempered, and eventually lose all reason, turning into a madman who only knows slaughter. Even if you can withstand the hundred-win challenge, if that poison corrodes your mind, you'll come out a cripple."
Bing Yekong held the porcelain bottle without saying a word.
"These are antidote pills I made myself. They can slow the poison's erosion." Dugu Bo gave a bitter laugh. "But honestly, I haven't fully figured out that poison's properties either. These pills can only last two or three months. Beyond that, I can't say. If you can't get out within three months..."
"I understand." Bing Yekong put away the bottle. "Thank you."
"What are you thanking me for?" Dugu Bo waved a hand. "If you die in there, that old hag Shui Qingrou will burn every herb on this mountain. Go in alive and well, come out alive and well, and that'll be thanks enough."
Bing Yekong smiled and rose to take his leave.
As he walked out of the valley, he heard Dugu Bo call from behind him, "Kid, remember this: the God