Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Three Corpses Powder

Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Three Corpse Powder

The Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons was utterly shocked—this was no ordinary fright. Never in all his years roaming the martial world had he encountered such a figure as King Ma of the Underworld, one who could neutralize his toxic miasma with nothing but a murderous aura that seemed to envelop his entire being. It was simply beyond comprehension!

The two clashed, old adversaries locked in fierce combat. The Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons was an expert in venomous assault; every corner of his body harbored deadly toxins, never relying on weapons. Even his inner energy was laced with poison, forcing any foe to be exceedingly cautious. Yet King Ma seemed utterly immune to all these deadly concoctions.

Thus, their battle became one of pure martial skill and strength. The Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons quickly fell at a disadvantage. King Ma’s half-broken saber danced through the air, the blade’s shadow flickering so swiftly that it was impossible to tell where steel ended and shadow began.

“Master—don’t worry about me! You must escape!” Li Ruolan, watching anxiously from the side, cried out in desperation.

The Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons, his face pale, swept a glance over the various martial artists gathered on the high platform. Though he had achieved the pinnacle of the postnatal stage in his cultivation and was on the verge of a breakthrough, his experience in direct confrontation was lacking. In the past, he’d relied on the secretive use of poison to kill, catching his enemies unawares.

Rarely had he engaged in a head-on contest like this. Moreover, King Ma’s every strike was lethal, his martial arts honed solely to kill. The Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons was gradually losing ground. Yet he was a man of loyalty and feeling; for his disciple, he had braved great danger to come here, hoping to use poison amidst the chaos to rescue Li Ruolan. But this required Wu Hong’s cooperation.

Who could have expected that Wu Hong would fail to appear, throwing all plans into disarray?

“King Ma, you leave me no choice,” the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons said coldly.

“Haha! Old man, your fearsome reputation is nothing but smoke and mirrors. If you have any tricks left, use them!” King Ma laughed arrogantly.

Suddenly, the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons thrust both palms toward King Ma. King Ma did not dodge; he met the attack head-on, palms colliding in a contest of inner strength. He was supremely confident that his inner force would not lose to his opponent’s.

There was a resounding smack as their palms met, colorful and blood-red streams of inner energy clashing and intertwining along their arms. Such a contest was taboo in the martial world—deadly, unforgiving, ending only in death or surrender.

The Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons felt a surge of killing intent invade his body. He resisted with all his might, but to little effect.

With a sudden exhalation, the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons breathed a gust of air at King Ma’s face. Instantly, his own body was flung backward with a swish.

In a contest of inner force, letting go of one’s breath was the thing most to be feared. All assumed the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons had realized he was overmatched and had voluntarily withdrawn. Though he would be severely injured, at least both would not be left completely drained and die as a result.

King Ma burst into gleeful laughter, “So much for your title of ‘Ten Thousand Poisons’—not a single toxin of yours could bring me down! Hahahaha!” He laughed heartily, feeling triumphant as he looked at the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons gasping for breath on the ground.

He remembered the days when he was but a novice, and the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons was a living legend. Who could have foreseen that, years later, he would have his old nemesis at his mercy, ready to deal the final blow? How could King Ma not feel proud?

“It seems that old poisoner wasn’t as formidable as he’s made out to be,” someone in the crowd remarked.

“Yes, in the past, just the mention of his name would make everyone blanch. But faced with someone immune to poison, his skills seem quite ordinary. In the end, evil can never triumph over the righteous way!”

The crowd conveniently forgot that King Ma himself was hardly a righteous figure.

The assembly buzzed with excitement, amazed by how quickly the contest had been decided. Only Li Ruolan seemed lost in thought. She said nothing, her expression calm—knowing her master was gravely injured and, unless something unexpected happened, both their fates were sealed. As for her senior sister, Madam Zhao, who had never shown herself, Li Ruolan had long since abandoned any hope of rescue.

King Ma picked up the broken saber from the ground and, with a sinister smile, strode toward the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons as he lay gasping for breath.

The Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons forced a grim smile and began to count, “One, two, three…” With each step King Ma took, he counted another number.

“Haha! Old fool, are you counting down the seconds to your own death?” King Ma sneered, though he was somewhat unsettled by the old man’s smile. He carefully checked his own inner energy flow, but found nothing amiss, which eased his mind.

He paid the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons no further heed and continued his approach. When the count reached six, King Ma’s face suddenly twisted in agony. Clutching his scalp, he screamed, “Ahhh!” and began to writhe and roll on the ground. “Old man, what have you done to me? This can’t be! I am immune to all poisons!”

King Ma thrashed about, pounding the ground with his fists, shattering thick stone slabs to pieces.

The Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and struggled to his feet. “King Ma, you’re still too green. How could you know the true power of my Three Corpse Powder?”

At the mention of the Three Corpse Powder, the faces of all present turned grim. How could they have forgotten—this was the very poison that had made the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons infamous throughout the martial world! It was said to be incurable, with only the old poisoner himself capable of concocting an antidote.

Within moments, King Ma’s fingernails had torn into his own flesh, his face twisted into a hideous mask, blood streaming everywhere. His agonized writhing and screams chilled the blood of all who watched. The poison’s potency was horrifying. King Ma was famed for his resilience and had even practiced a technique to render his body impervious to all manner of poisons—the very reason he could stand unafraid in the treacherous martial world.

Yet, even he had succumbed to the Three Corpse Powder.

What few understood was that the Three Corpse Powder was crafted from three types of corpse-eating insects, each bred over many years and having devoured the remains of countless martial artists, their bodies saturated with the most virulent toxins. The Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons had further fed them daily with new poisons, making them more potent still. Once this poison entered the body, only those who had attained communion with the heavens in the innate stage could hope to expel it.

“Ah! Old poisoner, you’ve beaten me today—just give me a quick death!” King Ma howled in torment.

“Hmph, I have no time to deal with you. Take your time and savor it,” the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons replied, staggering to Li Ruolan’s side.

Tears streaming down her face, Li Ruolan sobbed, “Master, you shouldn’t have come!”

“Foolish child. Even the one you love hasn’t come to save you. If your master didn’t come either, should I just stand by and watch you be executed?”

“Everyone, attack! Seize the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons! There’s news of Wu Hong—we must act quickly before he escapes!” Xiao Dongfang barked orders, having just received a report that Wu Hong had been seen atop the mountain in the lake deep within the Blackwood Forest. Witnessing the deadly effect of the Three Corpse Powder, she could not afford to hesitate.

Dozens of black-clad figures immediately surged toward the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons at the foot of the platform, eager to capture him.

“Hahaha! For my disciple and I to die at the hands of so many martial masters is an honor in itself!” the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons declared, placing himself protectively before Li Ruolan and ceasing all resistance.

This crowd consisted of the most elite postnatal masters in the entire martial world—if the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons were ten times more skilled, he still would not stand a chance. Only by catching them unawares with his poison could he hope to prevail.

Unsurprisingly, the crowd swarmed, capturing Li Ruolan and the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons, sealing their acupoints and locking them in an iron cage.

Xiao Dongfang descended gracefully from the high platform, her movements light as air. Her revealing attire, whipped by the wind, exposed more than was proper, causing the martial artists below to stare with unconcealed desire.

Seeing their lecherous faces, Xiao Dongfang felt a wave of inexplicable irritation. She snorted coldly, her mood a complex mix of annoyance and excitement—an excitement she could neither welcome nor resist, uncertain even of its nature.

The crowd, led by the messenger, swept through the forest for many miles, frightening the native beasts of the Blackwood Forest into fleeing.

They arrived at the lake and were stunned to see the mountain at its center. The mountain’s summit had been shorn flat by some tremendous force, leaving it bare and exposed. From the smooth mountaintop radiated a dazzling golden light, its source a single point at the peak.

The assembled masters focused their inner energy into their eyes, straining to see what lay at the heart of the radiance. They were all astonished to discover that the golden light enveloped a young man.

“Wu Hong!” many could not help but cry out in shock. The youth bathed in golden light was the very same who had stolen up Blackwood Cliff that night and escaped unscathed—calling himself Hong Wu.

Now, however, no one cared whether he was truly Wu Hong or an imposter. All that mattered was one thought: to cultivate with such grand spectacle—this Wu Hong was truly extraordinary. If not eliminated, he would surely become a grave threat to the martial world in the future.