Rumble-
Muffled thunder rolled across the sky, and the downpour drowned out every stray sound in the wilderness.
Inside an abandoned mine several miles from Little River Town, an old poison master from the Gu Poison Sect had built a fire and held a rabbit roasting on a wooden spit. Even now, fear still lingered in his heart.
Disciples of the Gu Poison Sect had a hard time traveling Jianghu in Great Qian. To put their standing politely, they straddled good and evil. Less politely, the Yamen wanted to deal with them, and so did the evil heretics. Even dogs despised them.
When he had stopped at the Iron Lady Inn that afternoon, the old poison master had figured that, on Jianghu turf, he could at least get a hot bowl of noodles, right?
And what had happened? First, seven ruthless bastards wearing official skins had come charging in. Then killing intent had soared into the sky above Ironthorn Ridge. One glance had told him Immortal Officials were besieging some heretical patriarch.
To avoid being a fish caught in someone else's disaster, the old poison master had displayed the Gu Poison Sect's signature specialty-covering his head and scurrying away like a rat!
Only now, hiding in this rat hole, had the old Poison Master found a little of home's warmth. He had even begun secretly worrying about what had become of that fellow disciple who had turned himself in.
Poison masters excelled at harming groups. Even a beginner apprentice could slaughter villages and wipe out settlements with poison, killing more efficiently than practitioners of the Demon Path. But they really had little ability in single combat. In a fight between ordinary cultivators, a poison master either hid until the end without a chance to show his face, or showed his