Sixty-Nine Frames

Pei Ling landed in the courtyard with an arm around Qiao Ranran just as the Demonic Cultivator finally forced the Poison Fog clinging to him to disperse. Qiao Ranran gauged his strength and felt the effect had worn off a little too quickly. There was still room for improvement—though the fact that she had not kept strengthening the Pills during that time was part of the reason.

The Demonic Cultivator's face had turned a sickly green. Gone was his swagger, and the look he gave Qiao Ranran was hard to read. He had taken her for a dodder vine clinging to the male Cultivator, with nothing but her fresh, pretty looks to earn a second glance. He had never expected her to have a trick like this.

"A Poison Cultivator?"

Cultivators who followed the path of poison were usually ravaged by all manner of toxins. Most bore at least a few flaws—the sort that made it obvious at a glance that they dealt with poisonous things day in, day out.

But Qiao Ranran looked nothing like that.

Even a high-level Poison Cultivator could only conceal their aura and keep others from judging their depth. They could not achieve what Qiao Ranran had. Her aura was utterly clean. She seemed less like a Demonic Cultivator or Poison Cultivator and more like a Spiritual Cultivator—or a Medicine Cultivator.

The well-traveled Demonic Cultivator narrowed his eyes and fixed Qiao Ranran with a searching stare.

Qiao Ranran, meanwhile, was questioning herself over his accusation. How had she become a Poison Cultivator? The Pills in her hand could hardly be called Poison Pills, so how had that made her a Poison Cultivator? These Demonic Cultivators had no eye for such things!

Still, it was a decent way to hide her identity. Playing a Poison Cultivator