Chapter 221: Anyone Want to Say Who They Are?
Chapter 221: Anyone Want to Say Who They Are?
That evening.
I practiced my martial arts in the mountains, a short distance from our lodgings. Even after leaving the Cult, I devoted myself to training whenever I found a spare moment.
Watching me, the Poison King initially gave me suspicious looks, wondering if I was just putting on a show. However, seeing me refuse to waste even the smallest scrap of time, he eventually shook his head, calling me relentless. But then, it wasn't as if my training was ordinary.
Martial arts only change when the practitioner does.
This was one of the ultimate principles of martial arts as I understood it, but it came with a condition: one must train to the point of death even while striving for that personal transformation. If the heart moves forward but the body does not follow, one's martial arts will remain stagnant even if the person changes.
I began by practicing the Thunder Asura Fist, followed by the Wind God Four Steps, and I did not neglect the Flying Heaven Sword Technique.
Finally, I practiced blending these three styles together. In a confrontation with a truly formidable foe, the key to victory would lie in how efficiently I could manifest these three distinct arts in unison.
As my internal energy increased thanks to the Ten Thousand Poison Supreme Divine Pill, its very quality shifted. It felt deeper, more refined. Consequently, even when using the same amount of energy to execute a technique, the resulting power was far greater.
I concluded my session standing atop a high crag, watching the sun dip below the horizon.
*
Having finished his training, Geom Mu-geuk stopped by the marketplace.
He entered the home of an old woman rumored to be the most skilled artisan in the village.
"Is it finished?"
"It’s all done. What do you think?"
Geom Mu-geuk smiled as he inspected what the old woman handed him.
"It’s magnificent."
After paying the agreed price, Geom Mu-geuk left the house.
Upon returning to their lodgings, he headed straight for the Poison King’s room.
The Poison King was pacing the room alone, lost in thought. Occasionally, as if struck by an idea, he would rush to his desk and pick up a brush. He would write fervently for a moment, then stop as if hitting a wall, getting up to pace again. Then he would sink back into deep contemplation before suddenly dashing back to jot something down.
"You haven't slept yet?"
As Geom Mu-geuk entered, the Poison King closed the manuscript he had been writing in.
"It’s late. What brings you here?"
"I came to give you something."
Geom Mu-geuk held out the item he had commissioned in the market. It was a pair of gloves.
"What is this?"
Even at a glance, the gloves radiated an extraordinary aura.
"They are made of Poison-Avoiding Heavenly Silkworm Thread."
The Poison King’s eyes widened in surprise. "Poison-Avoiding Heavenly Silkworm Thread?"
This material was incomparably more effective than the standard deerskin gloves used for blocking toxins. While Supreme Heavenly Silkworm Thread was prized for its resistance to physical impact, this specific variety was a treasure specialized against poisons.
"Where did you find something so precious?"
"I found the material in Ji-saeng’s secret storehouse. I took it to the most skilled artisan in the market to have it fashioned into gloves. Try them on. I had them made to the same size as the gloves you wore in the Thousand Poison Forest, so they should fit well."
The green cloth that had been wrapped around the fake Supreme Night-shining Pearl had, in fact, been Poison-Avoiding Heavenly Silkworm Thread. It had been used to shield the pearl from the potent energy of the Ten Thousand Poison Supreme Divine Pill hidden within. The predecessor who had hidden the pill must have been a master of the poisonous arts.
"Why give something so valuable to me?"
"Because it is valuable. It’s more surprising to me that a man of your stature didn't already own something like this."
"Have you ever seen a master calligrapher blame his brush?"
"A brush doesn't usually kill the person holding it. Please, use these whenever you handle potent toxins from now on."
Geom Mu-geuk then handed him the remaining fabric.
"I brought the leftovers as well, thinking you might have another use for them."
Having selflessly handed over the rest of the thread, Geom Mu-geuk turned to leave.
"Get some rest. We leave early tomorrow."
With a polite nod, Geom Mu-geuk exited the room. It had all happened so suddenly that the Poison King hadn't even managed to say thank you.
He stared blankly down at the gloves and the cloth. Then, something caught his eye. There was writing embroidered on the gloves.
On the back of one glove: Heaven Above, Heaven Below (天上天下).
And on the other: I Alone Am the Poison Sovereign (唯我毒尊).
It was a play on the famous Buddhist phrase, replacing the character for 'Honored' with the character for 'Poison.'
A wave of emotion washed over the Poison King’s face. To become the Poison Sovereign had been his lifelong dream. It was a dream he had never shared with anyone—not even with Sangseon, who served him with absolute loyalty.
Eventually, the Poison King shook his head and sighed.
"This is why everyone falls for him even when they see it coming. He truly is a poison without an antidote."
Despite his words, he couldn't hide the pleasant warmth of gratitude shimmering in his eyes.
*
The snake tattoo on the man’s chest extended all the way up his neck, its long tail coiling once around his throat.
The man with the snake around his neck.
This was Aecha, one of the members of Ya Yul-han’s Four-Man Group. There was a reason he had chosen the snake among all animals; he possessed 'snake eyes.' If one were to look at his eyes in isolation, they were indistinguishable from those of a serpent. Furthermore, his cold and ferocious aura only added to his reptilian presence.
Reading a missive, Aecha spoke. "It seems Ji-saeng is dead."
The man sitting across from him, the True Poison Recluse, looked up in shock. "How?"
The True Poison Recluse wore the neat, orderly robes of a scholar, but his skin was dark and shriveled, ruining the refined image he sought to project. His voice was equally unpleasant—a harsh, cracking rasp.
"As you know, he used a double for a long time. Apparently, that fake killed Ji-saeng and fled with his fortune."
Aecha delivered the news calmly, devoid of any mourning. He reported only facts, not emotions.
"The man was so cautious; he wasn't someone who would die easily."
Ji-saeng’s death was truly unexpected. If anyone was going to survive, it should have been him. However, the investigation by the Alliance had concluded that it was undoubtedly the work of the double. Given Ji-saeng’s importance, the investigation would have been thorough.
The True Poison Recluse, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. "Perhaps it was inevitable."
He voiced the thoughts Aecha was likely harboring.
"He played the part of a coachman as if he were some great man of mystery, but in my eyes, he was nothing more than a coward. A coward’s end is rarely pleasant."
A faint, mocking smile touched Aecha’s lips. "Now that he’s dead, the honest evaluations are finally coming out."
It was a jab, mocking the Recluse for only speaking up now that the man was gone. Irritation flared within the True Poison Recluse.
If I’m saying what you’re already thinking, you should at least agree instead of spitting on me.
It was always like this. In situations like these, Aecha always made some unpleasant remark. The True Poison Recluse viewed it as a twisted desire for dominance. Aecha was the type of person who tried to gain the upper hand in a relationship by binding the other person with negative words. This was how he managed his subordinates.
Hiding his discomfort, the True Poison Recluse forced a smile. "Is it not always the dead who are most pitiable?"
Aecha was notoriously cruel; the Recluse had seen many people die simply for falling out of his favor. However, he had no intention of being intimidated.
Whoosh.
Aecha burned the missive in the flame of a lamp. He didn't offer a single word of condolence to the end. Once the paper had turned to ash, Aecha asked abruptly, "Have you still not fixed the side effects?"
The True Poison Recluse’s brow twitched. It wasn't easy to be this consistently annoying. This man surely lived as if he had three lives to spare.
"I am working on it."
"You must fix it quickly. There was an incident on the Demonic Cult’s side recently. If the family of a high-ranking official from the Cult or the Murim Alliance gets caught in the crossfire, it will become a headache."
In truth, Aecha didn't fear the Demonic Cult or the Murim Alliance. He feared the reprimand from Ya Yul-han that would follow such an incident. Ya Yul-han was the only person in the world he feared.
"I will resolve it as quickly as possible."
"How long will it take?"
"Give me six months."
"I will give you one."
The True Poison Recluse’s expression hardened. He had asked for six months, expecting Aecha to cut the time down. He had anticipated being told to finish in three months. But one month? This was a blatant act of disrespect.
A heavy tension settled between the two men. The True Poison Recluse felt a sudden urge to unleash a lethal toxin right into that face. For some reason, Aecha showed no fear of his poisons. Then again, that was likely why Ya Yul-han had assigned Aecha to keep him in check.
"I will resolve it as quickly as possible."
"See that you do."
The True Poison Recluse backed down for now. But he wanted it known: he wasn't retreating because he was afraid of Aecha, but because of Ya Yul-han.
"Then I shall take my leave."
"I’m counting on you, Recluse."
Aecha watched him leave with his cold, snake-like eyes. Uselessly high pride.
If the side effects of the Wild Rage couldn't be fixed, they would have to abandon the project. However, since most of their income came from Wild Rage, abandonment was not an option.
Old man, shouldn't you admit you made a mistake first?
The True Poison Recluse had yet to admit that the flaw lay in his own creation. Aecha had his own grievances piling up.
Stepping outside, the True Poison Recluse questioned a waiting subordinate. "How many subjects do we have left for the experiments?"
"Seven remain, sir."
"And the next batch?"
"They are on their way."
The Unorthodox Path Alliance provided martial artists for the Recluse’s experiments. They were all prisoners from the Alliance’s dungeons—men who had crossed the line so far that even the Unorthodox Path Alliance had locked them away. They were the dregs of the earth.
"When are they expected to arrive?"
"It should take about twenty days."
"Too slow! You go and bring them here as fast as possible. Use whatever means necessary to get them here within ten days!"
"Understood, sir."
The subordinate hurried away. He carried out his mission faithfully. His only failure was neglecting the fact that he was being watched.
*
Ten days later.
"Aaaargh!"
A man was thrashing about in a frenzy. Blood leaked from his eyes and nose. Watching this, the True Poison Recluse sighed again.
The last of the seven remaining subjects had failed. No matter how he altered the herbal combinations, he couldn't prevent the side effects.
The problem was tolerance. Initially, a single pill produced sufficient results, but as the subjects continued to take them, they developed a tolerance that required higher doses. As the dosage increased, so did the side effects. Currently, this happened to about one in every few hundred users who overdosed, but as tolerance became more widespread, it could become one in every few dozen. If that happened, the Murim would turn into a literal hellscape.
Just then, a subordinate arrived to report. "The new subjects have arrived."
"How many?"
"Twenty."
The True Poison Recluse stepped outside with his subordinate. Two large carriages stood in the courtyard, and prisoners were being unloaded. The carriages had no windows; the men had been transported like mere cargo. Furthermore, they all wore black sacks over their heads. Since their internal energy had also been suppressed, their discomfort must have been immense.
Martial artists went around and yanked the sacks off their heads. The prisoners looked around. Though the aura of the warriors surrounding them was formidable, not one of the prisoners looked intimidated.
And as is often the case when twenty or so desperate criminals are gathered, there was bound to be one who spoke out recklessly.
"You bastards! I am the Blood Snake, Yang Gwang!"
He was a villain who had once been notorious in the Unorthodox Faction.
"No matter how much honor has faded from the Jianghu, is this any way to treat a senior?"
He was furious at being transported like luggage. Moreover, having covered a twenty-day journey in just ten, their physical suffering had been extreme. Under normal circumstances, such a complaint might have been ignored since they were short on test subjects.
But Yang Gwang was unlucky. In fact, several strokes of bad luck had converged upon him at once. First, the True Poison Recluse was in a foul mood after another failed experiment. Second, Aecha happened to be watching the scene from the other side of the courtyard. And the final stroke of bad luck was that his title contained the word 'Snake.'
The True Poison Recluse walked toward him. "So, you are the famous Blood Snake."
"That’s right, it’s me. And who are you?"
"I am this kind of person."
The True Poison Recluse gave a casual flick of his hand. While everyone was watching, wondering what he was doing—
"AAAAAAAGH!"
The Blood Snake suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream. He collapsed and writhed on the ground, unable to endure the agony. It was a level of pain beyond human endurance.
Even though most of those present were criminals who had committed all manner of atrocities, they had never seen anyone in such excruciating pain. They couldn't even begin to imagine what was happening inside his body.
"Kill me... please!"
The plea for death escaped the Blood Snake’s lips. The True Poison Recluse looked down at him coldly.
The Blood Snake begged again. "...Please, just kill me!"
The True Poison Recluse flicked his hand once more. At that, the Blood Snake’s body began to melt. With two simple gestures, a man had been reduced to a puddle of gore. This was the terrifying power of the Unorthodox Path’s greatest master of poison.
No one dared to even breathe loudly.
The True Poison Recluse glanced at Aecha in the distance and gave a slight, mocking bow. His posture was polite, but the message was clear: Cross me, and this happens to you.
Aecha gave a disdainful snort and turned back toward his quarters. Watching his back, the True Poison Recluse let out a satisfied chuckle and spoke to the remaining prisoners.
"Anyone else want to say who they are?"
No one dared to step forward.
However, the True Poison Recluse had no way of knowing. At that very moment, there was indeed one person who desperately wanted to reveal his identity.
The warriors began leading the prisoners toward the building. Among those being led away in feigned terror were Geom Mu-geuk and the Poison King.