With every strike of the poison staff, the poison embedded within it would sink deep into the body—far faster and more thoroughly than any medicine taken by mouth.
Luocha stuffed two balls of cotton into his ears and stood quietly to one side, self-aware enough to prepare for what was coming. The old man of the poison den watched Shiliang with amusement, then let out a sudden, eerie “Heh…” of a laugh. At once, the monkey-thin death warrior at his side leapt into motion.
Indeed—leapt, not walked, not ran, but leapt.
He bounded over to Shiliang’s side, one hand gripping the poison staff, the other seizing her by the collar and yanking her upright without hesitation. With a puff, he exhaled a cloud of black mist—no one knew exactly what kind of vapor it was, but it was foul enough to offend gods and men alike, and it jolted Shiliang awake instantly.
The moment she saw the figure before her, Shiliang had no room left to register the stench. She screamed at once, eyes clamped shut. “Ah… no! I don’t want this, help me!”
Her scream was piercing enough to burst an eardrum. Luocha shook his head helplessly, while the old man of the poison den looked positively delighted, rising from his rocking chair and leaning forward eagerly to watch.
“No! I’m begging you, please, no!”
“Let me go, I’ll do anything, just let me go!”
“Venerable elder of the poison den, please show mercy—I was foolish to talk back to you earlier, I’m willing to discuss this properly with you, whatever it takes!”
…
Shiliang’s face had gone deathly pale with terror; she didn’t even dare open her eyes, unable to tell whether the thing gripping her was some kind of monkey or an actual person!
She didn’t dare shout anymore, didn’t dare move a single limb, terrified that the moment she moved, the monster before her would lunge.
But no matter how much she screamed, the death warrior showed no reaction at all, only glancing back at the old man of the poison den.
The old man was thoroughly delighted, clapping his hands and laughing loudly. “Little girl, grandfather absolutely loves the sound of your screaming. Go on, scream again—louder this time! Hahaha!”
“Monkey, get started. Grandfather can hardly wait!”
His face was hidden from view, but from the way his skeletal hand kept twitching and poking about restlessly, one could easily imagine just how eager an expression must be plastered across it.
The moment the death warrior called Monkey received the order, he spun around and released his grip. With a resounding thud, Shiliang hit the ground hard, her head spinning, but there was no time to dwell on the pain—she scrambled, half-crawling, half-stumbling, trying desperately to flee.
But almost immediately, she realized all the strength had drained from her limbs!
“You’re despicable!” she couldn’t help but curse. That black mist earlier—it had been poison! She lay collapsed on the ground, unable to take even a single step toward the door just ahead of her.
“Heh heh, little girl, how about this—you scream for me, and if grandfather likes what he hears, maybe grandfather won’t hit you. How does that sound?” the old man of the poison den said cheerfully—his tone alone was so gentle, so kindly, as if making a reasonable proposal. But the content of what he said was nothing short of despair-inducing.
“What exactly do you want from me? What have I ever done to offend you?” Shiliang cried out.
“You were born with a constitution capable of cultivating poison. Grandfather likes that very much. If it were anyone else, grandfather wouldn’t even want them,” the old man said with a smile.
At those words, Shiliang blurted out hastily, “Han Ziqing is already immune to all poisons—she doesn’t even need cultivating! I can help you find her! Let me go, and I’ll help you lure her here!”
The moment those words left her mouth, the old man of the poison den’s smile vanished entirely. He stared at Shiliang for a long, long moment, then suddenly barked, harsh and sharp, “Beat her! In proper order!”
There were many methods for administering the staff-flogging—targeting the buttocks specifically, or the arms, thighs, calves, back, and so on—or striking every part of the body in sequence, one after another.
And the poison staff, naturally, had its own designated order of body parts—though with the poison staff, each spot was struck twice in succession.
The upper portion of the staff was solid bamboo plank; when it struck, the damage came in broad, flat sheets. The lower portion was bamboo skin; when it struck, the damage came in thin, narrow strips.
Striking with the flat plank was, naturally, somewhat less painful, and faster to administer.
Striking strip by strip, then following up with the flat plank, took considerably longer—but it guaranteed that every single spot on the body was struck, thoroughly, until it was pulverized.
The very first step of using the poison staff to cultivate poison was to pulverize every inch of flesh on the body, while preserving the skin, the bones and sinews, and the major blood vessels, keeping the person alive throughout.
As for the second step—that could wait. Just this first step alone was something almost no one could survive. But with the old man of the poison den personally overseeing it, there was naturally a way to ensure Shiliang endured it.
The moment the old man gave the order, the death warrior sprang into action. Shiliang’s entire body went rigid at once, and she squeezed her eyes shut—unable to stop herself from screaming despite every effort not to.
But the death warrior didn’t strike immediately—he moved his feet first. He leapt straight up into the air, and at the very same instant, the poison staff rose high as well, the leap carrying him a full body-length off the ground before he came crashing back down—and as he fell, the staff fell with him.
Using the full momentum of a leaping body to bring the staff down was, without question, far more terrifying than any amount of raw strength applied by hand alone.
“Crack!”
The first strike rang out, deafeningly loud.
“Ahh… ahh… ahh…”
That single blow alone was enough to strip Shiliang of every capacity for speech, leaving nothing but an instinctive, wordless cry of “Ahh.”
What followed could well be imagined.
Shiliang’s agonized screams filled the entire chamber without pause. Even Luocha couldn’t help but wince, unable to bear it fully—while the old man of the poison den listened with keen relish, occasionally letting out little clicks of appreciative admiration.
Whether from the pain or from the screaming itself, Shiliang eventually lost consciousness entirely.
“Monkey, wake her up and keep going!”
At the old man’s command, Monkey obeyed at once, using the same trick to jolt her awake with the black mist, and then another round of agonized screaming began.
This went on, over and over, through the entire night—and by the end of it, only Shiliang’s legs had been thoroughly pulverized.
Finally, as dawn broke, the old man of the poison den grew weary. He rose lazily from his seat, stretched several times, and without another word, turned to leave.
“Master…” Luocha reminded him hurriedly.
“Oh, right, right. Once every inch of flesh has been beaten to pulp, toss her into the poison pool to soak. Luocha, keep watch personally. Don’t bother me unless it’s necessary.”
Once the flesh had been completely pulverized and submerged in the poison pool, the toxic water within would transform all that shattered flesh into poison-flesh, incapable of ever decaying—one of the most virulent poisons in the world. No matter what other poison came into contact with it, its potency would be suppressed entirely.
And once that transformation was complete, a body cultivated to be immune to all poisons—achieved through artificial means rather than born of nature—would finally emerge.
Nearby, Monkey continued his work. Shiliang, having only just been jolted awake again, no longer even had the strength left to scream. In silence, without a sound, only she herself knew the full extent of her agony.
“Master, will you be returning to seclusion?” Luocha asked timidly.
“Returning? Hasn’t this venerable one been in seclusion this entire time?” the old man of the poison den asked, perfectly earnest.
Luocha startled at once, hurriedly replying, “Yes, yes, of course, Master has been in seclusion this whole time. Master never came out at all!”
The old man of the poison den glanced back once at Shiliang—barely alive, and yet stubbornly refusing to die—then hummed a little tune and shuffled off at an unhurried, ox-like pace…
Jun Beiyue wasn’t searching for Shiliang—but plenty of others were.
The Empress of Eastern Qin, making her way home to Eastern Qin by sea, asked after the matter constantly along the way. Xuanyuan Lige, having discovered Wuzheng was a fake, immediately caught up with Jun Beiyue’s carriage.
By then, Jun Beiyue and the others were just passing through Da Zhou’s southern gate.
…