County Town bustled every day, but its northern district was livelier still.
Every day, martial artists gathered in groups and set out from the northern district for the Clear Radiance Mountains, hoping to hunt variant beasts there and exchange them for martial resources, paving themselves a smooth road ahead.
Failing that, they at least hoped to discover the whereabouts of a few variant beasts. Even if they could not defeat them, selling their locations would still bring a handsome return.
Yet... those who gained anything were few and far between, and whenever they brought back a variant beast, it caused a sensation in the northern district.
Far more, however, died in the mountains, and only a handful of those fallen martial artists could be brought back.
Almost every day, someone came to claim a body beside Zhao Er's new home, then wept for a while. As for those nobody claimed... they merely added another fresh grave to the Mass Burial Ground outside town.
Quietly, another month passed.
Living here, Zhao Er had long since grown accustomed to the occasional cries and sobs. They could not affect his cultivation progress at all. On the contrary, the deaths of martial artists only drove him to cultivate harder.
That day, Zhao Er finished practicing his halberd art early. After wiping away his sweat, he entered his private cultivation chamber.
Zhao Er opened a wine jar on the table, then carefully tilted it.
He kept tipping the jar until its mouth was almost level with its lowest point. Only then did a stream of foul, fishy-smelling poison wine slowly flow out.
Rather than catch the poison wine in a cup, Zhao Er held his palm beneath it.
Just as the poison wine was about to touch his palm, Zhao Er circulated his cultivation method,