Fragmented Poison Body

The scholar surnamed Feng continued, "That strategist's first disciple died after barely more than a month. That should also have been caused by improper cultivation. Though those herbs used to cleanse the body upon entering the path were not particularly precious or difficult to find, a few of them were exceedingly rare in the mortal world.

"But his second disciple passed the body-cleansing trial and cultivated to the first layer of the Qi Condensation Realm. Yet he too was afflicted with fire poison. Later, somehow, that disciple learned that he had been used for 'spirit absorption.' He then sought out the local army commander and another martial arts expert to ambush that strategist." As he spoke, a strange expression appeared on Scholar Feng's face.

The others all shook their heads upon hearing this. The dark, burly man with a golden compass embroidered on his cuff spoke up. "How could they possibly have won? Even if he was afflicted by fire poison, that strategist was already at the peak of the third layer of the Qi Condensation Realm. He was not someone a few martial arts experts could kill. Even several times more would have been futile."

The other cultivators, including the Daoist seated at the head, all expressed agreement with the burly man.

Scholar Feng merely shook his head. "Junior Brother Liang has guessed wrong."

"Oh? Did they kill that strategist? Not your Law Enforcement Hall?" Junior Brother Liang asked in surprise.

"That is precisely what I found rather unexpected. Not only did they kill the strategist, but the main credit did not belong to those two martial arts experts of the mortal world. Rather, it came from that strategist's disciple. That mortal disciple was only fifteen or sixteen years old, born into a farming family at the foot of Great Green Mountain. According to the reports from the disciples below, judging from the battle site, from the beginning of the ambush to the final killing blow, it should all have been his doing. His methods could be called calculating and decisive, his hand ruthless.

"By the time disciples from my peak arrived, everyone but that mortal disciple was already dead. The commander and the other martial arts expert had both died under the Fireball Art and the Wooden Thorn Art. That mortal disciple was also on the brink of death, so the disciples intended to finish the mortal boy off as well. Though he was innocent, he had indirectly stolen the immortal arts of our sect for cultivation. Besides, he was already dying. Why waste medicinal pills on him?"

Everyone nodded. In the cultivation world, there was no saying such as rescuing the weak and subduing the strong, much less any talk of sympathy.

"But just as they were about to take his life, they unexpectedly discovered that this mortal disciple had somehow begun displaying symptoms of a Fragmented Poison Body, so they brought him back."

"Oh? Have you confirmed it? Did he truly cultivate a Fragmented Poison Body?"

"Our sect has not had anyone cultivate a Fragmented Poison Body in nearly a thousand years. Without cultivating the corresponding technique, how did he manage it? Could it be related to improperly entering the path with the wood-element Black Night Curtain Green Technique?"

"Yes. This poison body ranks second among our sect's three great poison bodies. Since the sect's inheritance from ancient times, only a dozen or so people in total have cultivated these three great poison bodies. Which one had not endured countless hardships, combined with tremendous fortune, before succeeding?"

Everyone in the hall began discussing it at once, no longer caring how the cultivator surnamed Feng might answer.

"Enough, enough. What kind of behavior is this? Why are you like a marketplace in the mortal world? Since someone has already spoken of tremendous fortune, fortune differs from person to person. If he obtained it, then he obtained it. It seems that young friend must have encountered a stroke of good fortune. Junior Brother Feng," the stern-faced old Daoist at the head spoke, stopping the crowd.

The cultivator surnamed Feng looked at everyone and gave a bitter smile.

The stern-faced old Daoist frowned. "What? Was it not a Fragmented Poison Body after examination?"

Among the junior brothers and elders below, apart from Junior Brother Wei of Small Bamboo Peak, who wore an unconcerned expression, the rest could not help revealing disappointment.

"That is not the case. I personally examined this person yesterday. He indeed possesses a Fragmented Poison Body, and signs of it seeping through sinews and penetrating bone have already faintly emerged within him. It is only that this child has mixed spirit roots." The cultivator surnamed Feng shook his head with a sigh.

"A Fragmented Poison Body with mixed spirit roots? How is that possible? Fuck you, Immortal!"

"Mixed spirit roots? Such a constitution can cultivate an ancient body like this? Junior Brother Feng, are you truly certain?"

"Now this is interesting. I would quite like to take this boy in and study him properly, study him. Hehe."

The stern-faced old Daoist sat at the head without speaking. After a long while, he sighed. "Junior Brother Feng, are you certain?"

Scholar Feng rose to his feet, his long robe fluttering, and cupped his hands toward the elder. "Senior Brother Sect Master, I cannot be mistaken about this. At first, I also thought excitement had clouded my judgment, so I had several elders who went with me test him as well. But the final result was still mixed spirit roots."

"Then that is truly a pity. Mixed spirit roots... Even if we gave him more resources, he would likely only reach the Foundation Establishment Realm in this life. What a pity, what a pity, what a pity." The stern-faced old Daoist said "what a pity" three times in succession.

"Then how should this child be dealt with?" Scholar Feng looked toward his senior brother, the sect master.

"Kill him. Why keep him? He would only waste resources for nothing. Does someone like him deserve such fortune? Even with it, it would be of little use. It is infuriating merely to look at him. Better to make a clean sweep of it." The dark, burly man with the golden compass embroidered on his cuff spoke impatiently.

Several people immediately nodded in silent approval. Cultivation resources were meant for useful people. Those with no prospects could simply fend for themselves. The cultivation world had no room for human sentiment.

"Didn't Senior Sister Li just say she wanted to take him as a disciple? Hehe," someone said to the graceful, voluptuous beautiful woman.

"Yes, yes, I want to take him in. I have only heard of this poison body before. I so want to experience it for myself." The beautiful woman's eyes wandered, and her smile bloomed like peach blossoms.

Seeing her smiling face, everyone below felt a chill rise in their hearts. If that boy entered this old woman's sect, could he survive even one day?

The stern-faced old Daoist shook his head upon hearing this. "Junior Sister Li, you cannot. What kind of constitution is a Fragmented Poison Body? A single drop of its fluid or blood can transform into ten thousand poisons. How could I let you take him away?"

"Oh? You old ghost of a senior brother, what is wrong with me taking him? Can I not peacefully accept a disciple? I never said I would use him to make a gu." The beautiful woman immediately looked toward the Daoist at the head, displeasure rising on her face.

"Junior Sister, though this boy has mixed spirit roots, if we increase the resources spent on nurturing him, he still has hope of reaching the Foundation Establishment Realm. With that Fragmented Poison Body, if he reaches the late Foundation Establishment Realm, how many Golden Core Realm experts would dare claim they could defeat him? That powerful body and the ever-changing, endlessly breeding unknown poison substance cannot be underestimated. Therefore, even with mixed spirit roots, if used well, he can stand against a Golden Core Realm cultivator. Even at worst, once he reaches the late Qi Condensation Realm, few Foundation Establishment Realm cultivators could defeat him." The stern-faced old Daoist looked down at the crowd.

Those below had all cultivated for several centuries. Which of them was not clear-minded? They had merely been stunned out of calmness by the enormous gap just now. Only three people had cultivated the Fragmented Poison Body over several hundred million years, yet now someone had unexpectedly cultivated it while still in the Qi Condensation Realm. But he could only stop at the Foundation Establishment Realm. The blow was imaginable.

When the beautiful woman heard the old man say this, her expression tightened as she was about to speak. Suddenly, a clear voice rang out. "Senior Brother Sect Master, Senior Sister Li, I think this child should enter my sect. I will first accept him as a registered disciple." Everyone followed the sound and found that it was Junior Brother Wei of Small Bamboo Peak, who had remained smiling and silent all this time.

"Oh, Little Junior Brother, this is truly strange. You are a grand Golden Core Realm cultivator, yet you want to accept a Qi Condensation Realm disciple as your apprentice?" The beautiful woman smiled at the plump young man seated in his chair.

"Senior Sister, did you not also want to accept him as a disciple just now? Was that false? Or did you intend to take him away to make a gu? I have seven disciples under me. Do I not already have one Qi Condensation Realm registered disciple? One more does not make a difference. Once the two of them reach the Foundation Establishment Realm, I will formally accept them as disciples. Besides, you all just said he has mixed spirit roots. How many resources would it take to pile up for him? As for the resources of your other peaks, hehe..." The plump Junior Brother Wei gave a light laugh as he looked at the beautiful woman.

The beautiful woman was temporarily left speechless. The others also nodded. When it came to resources, which peak could compare with Small Bamboo Peak? Including servants, it had fewer than twenty people. Even though many resources had already been deducted every year, no other peak could compare. Over the years, as disciples of the other peaks grew more numerous and competition for resource allocation became increasingly brutal, newly admitted disciples now smashed their heads against the wall trying to enter Small Bamboo Peak. Even those who had once left Small Bamboo Peak regretted it until their intestines turned green. But how could they have known then that this peak master would ultimately keep only a few disciples, close the peak and lock its gates? Thus, although resources were still allocated per person, there was no competition.

The stern-faced old Daoist nodded repeatedly as well. He felt that this plump junior brother had finally considered the sect for once. "Junior Brother Wei, well said. Take him in and nurture him well. Perhaps he may become a great source of strength in the future. As such, we can loosen the annual resource deductions for your Small Bamboo Peak somewhat."

"Senior Brother Sect Master, Small Bamboo Peak has only those few people, and you still want to loosen things for them? How can you favor him so openly?"

"Exactly, exactly. Senior Brother Sect Master, we have several thousand people now, and we are stretched tight from beginning to end every year."

"Silence! What kind of behavior is this? Small Bamboo Peak may have few people, but which of you does not know exactly how much resources it receives each year? The extra amount will also be limited. It merely has less competition among disciples. Four years from now will be the time when the four sects seek the realm and gather herbs. At that time, from the various spiritual herbs and spiritual items brought out of the secret realm, each peak may claim another ten percent every year for the following ten years. Besides, when we clash with those so-called famed orthodox sects, do you think all we bring back will be things gathered during harvesting?" the stern-faced old Daoist said coldly.

When everyone below heard this, they were all invigorated. An additional ten percent each year—that is no small amount.

Then, thinking of the harvests from the past and the iron-green faces of those famed orthodox sects, they could not help beginning to calculate.

Afterward, everyone discussed several other matters. Half an hour later, they filed out of the great hall. Flashes of multicolored spiritual light flickered, and soon they had all departed.

Li Yan sat on the bed in a daze, staring out at the spiritual birds dancing beyond the window and the immortal mist winding over the pond. His mind still felt as though he were in a dream.

When he had awakened the previous night, a faint sandalwood fragrance had filled his nose. He slowly opened his eyes, only to see white bed curtains before him, tassels hanging overhead and swaying gently in the breeze. Beneath him was a soft wooden bed, its headboard adorned with exquisite carvings. He was covered by a brocade quilt. Looking around, he found that the room was not large. Apart from the bed beneath him, there was a table and chair near the window. The hollow-carved window looked out upon a scene like an immortal realm: small hills, a pond, green lotus roots, and pink lotus flowers. From time to time, golden fish leaped among the flowers, then fell back down, splashing water across the lotus leaves. The droplets formed crystal-clear beads that slowly slid toward the edges of the green leaves before dripping back into the pond.

He shook his head and looked around again in disbelief. It was still the same. He lay in a room, not in the forest of Great Green Mountain. He moved his body, only to discover that there was nothing wrong with him. With a sigh in his heart, he knew this was absolutely not a dream, much less within Divine Sense. One of his legs had clearly been injured and the other broken, while the fire poison within his body had flared up. Yet now he felt no pain at all. Had only his soul remained?

Where was this place? Last time, in the Divine Sense space, he had mistaken it for the Avici Hell and made a fool of himself. This time, he was certain he would not make such a blunder again. He moved his body and found that he could move freely, without any restriction. He immediately turned over and sat up, preparing to get out of bed. But when he lifted the quilt, he froze. He was not a soul body after all.

He still wore that same tattered black robe, and there were still many bloodstains on it. Hesitantly, he pulled the lower part of the robe upward and looked at his legs. The trousers were still the ones he had worn the day before, likewise stained with blood. Only the right calf and left thigh each had a long tear exposing the flesh beneath. He became even more confused. Using both hands, he tore the openings in his trousers wider and saw legs without a single wound.

He lifted his right leg. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it. He remembered using that very leg to kick Strategist Ji, only for Strategist Ji to borrow the force and break it afterward. Yet there was no injury left now. Looking at his left thigh, there was likewise not the slightest scar, nor any trace of the Wind Blade Art's cuts. Had killing Strategist Ji been a dream, or was this dream? He raised a hand and pinched his own face.

"You're awake." As pain flared across his face, a voice sounded beside his ear.