Ten Poisons Body
The five little ones of the Sichuan Tang Family were clearly intelligent.
No—more than that. They seemed to understand human speech.
Before the steaming bathwater the maids had prepared for me, I pointed to the wooden tub and spoke.
"Kids, I need to take a bath, but this water's hot—it won't be good for you. Can you wait right here for a bit? I'll wash up and be right out."
Flower petals floated on the surface of the steaming wooden tub as the five of them scurried down my arms. They clustered together at the rim, peering into the water with what looked like pure curiosity as I climbed in—heads cocked up just like a mongoose or a meerkat studying something strange.
Weird. Honestly weird.
Most centipede species have almost no eyes. Even the ones with eye-like organs usually lack the genes for true light perception. The latest research I knew of said they sense heat through their antennae and use that as a kind of substitute for vision—and even then, it's only enough to tell light from dark, not to form actual images.
On top of that, my five little ones hadn't even molted yet. They were still translucent and yellow. Even if they were some new species that happened to have eyes, transparent eyeballs wouldn't have retinas capable of reflecting an image. They shouldn't have been able to see me at all.
"It's embarrassing when you stare at a naked man like that, you know."
At my words they glanced at one another, then carefully coiled themselves into the space around the tub.
They really did understand me. No question.
Their uncanny behavior made me decide I needed to figure out exactly what kind of creatures they were. For now, though, I sank into the hot water for the first time in ages and let my thoughts drift.
I should ask Deputy Commander Gu Pae exactly what a spirit beast is. He kept calling them that, after all.
After soaking away the fatigue of the long journey, I sat in a pavilion in the rear garden, letting the cool breeze dry my damp hair.
That was when I heard it.
—Thud, thud, thud.
Footsteps, hurried, heading somewhere in a rush. The Young Mistress—the family head's daughter—cut across the path in front of me, making straight for my quarters. Then she spotted me sitting in the pavilion and froze, startled. The moment she recognized me she changed course and came toward me at speed.
Huh?
She stopped in front of me, cheeks faintly flushed, and spoke in a hurried voice.
"Forgive the intrusion, young hero. I'm in rather a rush—would you lend me your hand for a moment?"
Whoa… Don't tell me she's that kind of bold beauty?
Out of nowhere she was asking for my hand. We'd barely exchanged names, and already she wanted to hold it. By the standards of the life I'd lived before—this was an ancient society, the kind you saw in historical dramas—a woman's hand was serious physical intimacy.
Not that I minded. But the family head was almost certainly nearby, and getting caught would be… awkward. He was her father, after all. And no matter how urgent she was, people were supposed to get closer in stages.
I'd kind of hoped my first experience—hand or anything else—would come with actual feelings. I'm a romantic, okay?
"Ahem… I'm not sure why you're in such a hurry, but wouldn't it be better if we got to know each other a little more first? Not that I object, mind you…"
Her expression went blank. Then she flushed scarlet and nearly shouted.
"W-what did you just say?! Th-that's not what I meant!"
"Whoa! Y-you startled me!"
I flinched at her outburst. She glared at me, face beet-red and a little angry.
"I-it's nothing like that. I only wanted to take your pulse."
"Ah. R-right. Of course. Ahaha… I had no idea. S-sorry about that."
Pulse? Has she studied medicine too? Is she planning to brew me some restorative tonic after the hard journey? Damn it. First impressions thoroughly wrecked on every front.
My head had been so pink with romantic nonsense after meeting her that I'd jumped to the worst possible conclusion. Fortunately she seemed generous enough to apologize right away—though the apology itself was a little twisted, as if she'd been chewing on pretzels.
"I did ask for your hand out of nowhere, so I suppose a misunderstanding was possible. Though I'm not entirely sure what kind of misunderstanding it was?"
She looked at me the way one looks at trash. Probably thinking a little nobody like me had gotten far too full of himself.
"I-it was nothing much. Really. Nothing at all."
I brushed it off and resolved to kick myself under the blankets several times that night. That was when she spoke again, looking slightly reluctant.
"I heard from Father a short while ago. You already know, of course?"
"From the family head? Know what, exactly?"
"That Father is considering you as my match."
"Ah. That. Yes, earlier, out in front of the Sichuan Tang Family…"
So that was why she'd come looking for me so suddenly—she'd just heard from her father that I was a candidate for her husband. Of course she'd be rattled. If your father suddenly dragged home some orphan and announced he was marrying you off, anyone would be.
"You may not realize it, young hero, but I'm not particularly pleased about this. You saved Father's life and mine as well, so of course I will repay that debt. But being handed over like a gift is not exactly a pleasant feeling. Father's heart seems to have tilted rather heavily in your favor, though."
Definitely angry. I tried to soothe her with a little self-deprecating chatter.
"Of course you'd feel that way. If my father suddenly hauled in some half-starved orphan and told me to get married on the spot, I'd start wondering whether the old man had gone senile. Absolutely."
"What?!"
My carefully delivered joke. I'd expected a laugh. Instead her face twisted with sudden panic, and she bowed her head at once.
"I-I'm sorry. That wasn't what I meant at all. It has nothing to do with your appearance or the fact that you have no family… It's simply a matter of internal affairs within the Sichuan Tang Family…"
She must have realized her words could have sounded like she was looking down on me, and she was sorry for it. A genuinely kind person, then.
"I know. You're not the sort who'd think that way."
"…? How could you possibly know that? We've only known each other for a few hours."
She blinked her large eyes at me. I smiled.
"I just get the feeling. If you weren't, you wouldn't have apologized."
There's an old saying that beautiful people are kind. By that iron law of the universe, she was somewhere between Mother Teresa and an actual angel.
She stared at me for a moment, then carefully sat down beside me. She apologized again for her rudeness and began to explain, slowly, why she had come looking for me in the first place.
"Well… let me start with an apology. I came here and behaved rudely without warning. You're not even of age yet, but you seem thoughtful, so I'll be honest with you about why I came and acted the way I did."
"Huh? Ah—yes. Please."
From her explanation I gathered that the Sichuan Tang Family was composed of the direct line and the collateral branches. In this generation, she was the sole direct descendant. Many people had urged the family head to take a second wife so the line could continue, but he had refused out of love for his late wife—because he already had a daughter.
"But a woman can't continue the family line, can she?"
"No. Not if you bring in a live-in son-in-law. The Sichuan Tang Family has a tradition of that."
"Ah. A live-in son-in-law…"
So the duty of continuing the line had fallen to her. The Tang Family dealt in poisons and kept many secrets, which was why the tradition of live-in sons-in-law existed. With the family head refusing a second wife, the task of producing the next generation had passed to her. If she took a live-in husband and bore a child, that child would inherit the Sichuan Tang Family.
But she had been harassed for years by the collateral branches, and what she wanted—whether in martial arts or marriage—was something that would thoroughly flatten their noses. My help would solve the martial arts problem. That left only a husband. She wanted, at minimum, a match with outstanding martial talent.
Talent, huh? Natural aptitude, basically.
There was a reason she wanted a husband with exceptional martial talent. Part of it was her own ambition—but part of it was for the man's sake as well. Martial talent, she explained, was essentially a ceiling: the limit of what a person could reach. Since martial arts were the most valued thing in the murim, talent itself was highly prized. A man's standing within the family rose or fell with his martial level, so even a live-in son-in-law needed outstanding talent if he wanted to walk around with his head held high. The pressure from the collateral branches was no joke.
"…Which is why—and I apologize for saying this—I want to confirm your talent. Of course, even if your talent falls short of what I hope for, I won't drive you out. You're my benefactor, so naturally you'd remain a guest. Or better yet—what about sworn siblings? I don't know you well yet, but you don't seem like a bad person, and you strike me as thoughtful. I'll ask Father to take responsibility for your entire life within our Tang Family as my sworn brother. So…"
In short, she was practical. She didn't need a man who had already achieved great things—just a husband with real potential in the one thing the murim valued most: martial arts.
Hmm… She's more realistic than I expected.
I supposed that was natural for the daughter of a great family. In houses like this, marriage was basically a business arrangement.
"I understand what you're saying. Go ahead and check, then."
I nodded and held out my arm. She blinked at the offered wrist, startled all over again.
"Y-you mean it? Is that really all right?"
"You said you wanted to check. Check as much as you like."
"What if I dislike you and lie that your talent is low?"
"You wouldn't do that."
She stared at me for another long moment, then carefully reached out and took my wrist.
The instant her fingers touched my skin, something flashed behind my eyes. My mind blanked for a second and came back, and I had to shake my head. Something strange and subtle had slipped deep into my body.
"What's wrong?"
"N-nothing. You're not finished yet, right?"
"I haven't even started."
"Then please do."
It was odd, but I collected myself. She closed her eyes and focused. A faint tingling sensation followed, and something began to push from her hand into my body through the wrist she held.
What a strange feeling.
She examined me carefully for about as long as it takes to drink a cup of tea. When she finally spoke, her first words were surprisingly hopeful.
"Not just anyone can learn the Tang Clan's martial arts. Some people can cultivate poison arts; others simply can't. Fortunately, young hero, your body is capable of learning them."
Oh! That's promising!
But beginner's luck is still luck. What came next was a good deal less encouraging.
"However, your limit appears to be the Ten Poisons Realm. Within the Tang Clan we classify bodies capable of poison arts in several ways, and yours seems to be a Ten Poisons Body."
What?! T-Ten Virtues Realm? Ten Virtues Body? I spent my past life fanboying over venomous insects and snakes, sure, but can that actually be measured?
I nearly jumped out of my skin—until I realized it wasn't "ten virtues" but "ten poisons." In other words, a body that could handle only ten kinds of poison.
"Five Poisons, Ten Poisons, Hundred Poisons, Thousand Poisons, Ten Thousand Poisons. The Tang Clan's poison arts require you to absorb matching toxins as your internal energy deepens, or you'll never reach true mastery. Your body can accept only ten kinds of poison. Given the nature of Tang internal energy, the more poisons you can take in, the higher and faster your realm rises—and you can't do that. To be fair, a Ten Poisons Body in someone who isn't even of the Tang Clan is impressive. But measured against the murim's ordinary ranks, first-rate is your ceiling. It's simply the highest level a person without real talent can reach. So… ah…"
It was a blow, honestly. Being told to my face that I had no talent for something. Ten virtues or ten poisons—whatever. Setting aside the fact that I wasn't husband material for her, the news itself left me rattled. The family head had said I'd need something like the Ten Thousand Poisons level to capture a Poison Feather Bird. Ten Poisons left two whole stages in between. Even by the numbers it felt like a thousandfold gap.
My dream had just flown out the window.
She saw my expression, quietly bowed her head, and withdrew. She must have sensed I needed time.
Once she was gone, I noticed the sky at dusk turning red. The five little ones, usually so quiet, poked their heads out from my collar.
—Tsrrr…
A sound that somehow managed to convey pity. I muttered under my breath.
"Kids. She says I'm Ten Virtues—no, Ten Poisons… Anyway, never mind that. Is this for real? I got rejected without even confessing?"
Come to think of it, my post-reincarnation record now stood at zero confessions and one rejection. Felt a little unfair.
At dinner that evening, no one said a word about it. I'd assumed she would speak to the elders separately, but they seemed completely unaware. The meal was warm and lively, and she gave no particular sign of anything.
And that night—
I was certain I had fallen asleep in the quarters the Tang Family had prepared for me. Instead I woke in a forest, and the Young Mistress appeared before me, prostrating herself in a deep bow, tears streaming down her face.
"Hic… Thank you for your profound grace, Benefactor."
In my arms, three little girls sucked their fingers and clung to my clothes, staring at her with frightened eyes.
What the hell is going on?