Chapter Twelve: The Lord of a Thousand Poisons

Outside the tavern a hundred miles away, the wind and snow began to swirl once more.

Inside the room, the oil lamp on the table danced desperately, its flame swaying like a seductive waist. Dantai Mingjing and a monk sat at opposite ends of the table, eyes closed, quietly gathering their energy.

The monk's brows, hair, and beard were all white, presenting the appearance of a venerable master deep in meditation.

Liao Buping and Chief Yellow stood nearby, silent.

After a long while, a chilly breeze slipped through the crack beneath the door, causing the lamp’s flame to flicker.

The monk pressed his palms together, murmured a Buddhist chant, and said, “Amitabha. Brother Dantai, you have pursued this humble monk for dozens of days. It has been a strenuous journey for you.”

“Amitabha. Mingjing does not find it strenuous; it is you, Brother Withered Leaf, who has endured hardship. But I wonder, did you steal the Golden Arhat Statue?” Dantai Mingjing replied calmly.

Withered Leaf smiled, “You chased this humble monk across thousands of miles just for the Golden Arhat Statue?”

“I didn’t expect you to succumb to greed as well.”

He sighed with a bitter smile. All along the way, he had evaded countless pursuers from other factions, but never managed to shake off Dantai Mingjing. Perhaps, from the very beginning, Mingjing was the one he feared most.

“This humble monk is just an ordinary man. All I seek is wealth and glory. Whether Buddha or Dao, in my eyes, there is no difference.” Withered Leaf raised his gaze to Dantai Mingjing. “All people in this world pursue profit; I merely did what needed to be done.”

Dantai Mingjing sneered coldly, “If all you wanted was wealth and glory, why risk bringing the Golden Statue back to Southern Zhou?”

His words struck directly at the heart. If Withered Leaf only desired riches, selling the statue to the Northern Kingdom would have been far easier. Why go to such lengths to deliver it to Southern Zhou? Clearly, Withered Leaf had his own motives, though he was unwilling to reveal them to Mingjing.

There was no further need for conversation between them.

Dantai Mingjing’s staff quivered in his hand, multiplying into countless shadows, sweeping straight for Withered Leaf’s head—a blow as heavy as Mount Tai. The immense pressure made Liao Buping and Chief Yellow beside them struggle for breath.

Only now did they realize that at the inn earlier, Dantai Mingjing had not displayed his full strength.

Withered Leaf was prepared. The instant Mingjing struck, his palm was already moving, and both men retreated several steps as if they had rehearsed it countless times.

A second exchange followed: their palms and staff collided again, making the oil lamp on the table tremble violently, the room flickering between light and shadow.

Dantai Mingjing stepped back once more.

“Oh? The Tribulation Realm?” Mingjing gazed intently at Withered Leaf.

Withered Leaf pressed his palms together and said, “Fewer than one hand’s worth of people in this world know my true cultivation. Now, three more are added in this room.”

“Brother Dantai, you are known to defeat opponents in three moves. Only one remains now. I hope you take care.”

Dantai Mingjing sighed, “In truth, there are no three moves—I have only one.”

The technique he cultivated was the Buddhist Demon-Subduing Pestle: overwhelming force, a single decisive move. The reason for three moves was that he never used his full strength in the first two. But seeing the situation before him, even if he unleashed his full power, he likely could not kill Withered Leaf.

Withered Leaf smiled, “If you cannot kill me, Brother, I hope you will cease pursuing me in the future.”

Dantai Mingjing said nothing.

He could admit defeat, but to cease pursuing him was impossible—unless Withered Leaf handed over the Golden Arhat Statue.

Withered Leaf was troubled as well. He held a definite advantage in cultivation, but he knew Mingjing had a powerful technique; killing him would not be easy.

Unless... poison?

Wait—something was wrong with his vital energy.

His expression changed suddenly, and he turned to Liao Buping and Chief Yellow, “You poisoned me?”

Liao Buping saw Withered Leaf’s expression change and finally relaxed.

“That’s right. To uproot the weeds, you must pull out the roots. We can’t let our lives remain in your hands. Once you’re dead, the treasure and the statue are mine.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his sword moved like a flash of lightning, slicing a rainbow arc. Chief Yellow’s throat was pierced.

The sword was so fast that as Chief Yellow died, his eyes still held a question, his corpse remained upright, leaning against the wooden pillar without falling.

He must have had many questions, but Liao Buping had no intention of answering.

“Now it’s your turn...” Liao Buping sighed, “My brother was too troublesome. Keeping him around was bound to bring disaster eventually. I’ve helped you two by removing him; you should show some gratitude in return.”

“How about with your heads? What do you think?”

Withered Leaf could never have imagined that after pecking at swallows all his life, today he’d have his eyes pecked out by one.

Dantai Mingjing felt even more frustrated. It seemed the man earlier was right—his intelligence was indeed lacking.

Clearly, Liao Buping dared not delay. He needed to eliminate the two before the master of the kitchen knife arrived, take what he could, and escape as far as possible.

He stabbed his sword straight at Dantai Mingjing without hesitation.

A metallic clang rang out. Liao Buping’s wrist trembled, his sword flew from his hand, and a kitchen knife embedded itself in the table beside him.

A man’s voice sounded abruptly, “Sorry, my hand slipped again.”

Dantai Mingjing heard the familiar voice and, inexplicably, felt a great sense of security—as if, the moment the voice sounded, the feeling of being on the brink of life and death vanished completely.

“You... who are you?” Liao Buping tried to speak loudly, but his voice was trembling.

Lu Zhou walked in from outside, smiling, “You don’t recognize me?”

Liao Buping shook his head, “I know you, but I don’t know who you are. A nameless man shouldn’t be meddling in these affairs.”

Lu Zhou said, “Funny, I know you too. Thirty years ago, you ranked tenth on the Evil Men List—Fast Sword Huang Yisheng, right?”

Liao Buping—no, Huang Yisheng—stepped back twice.

He had hidden his name for years, never expecting to be recognized by this man.

“No one would’ve guessed that Huang Yisheng, the notorious villain, is actually the elder cousin of Gold Lion Escort’s Huang Sanshi. Both of you have a trait: speed. Huang Sanshi’s spear is fast, and yours is the sword.”

A flash of the blade, and the kitchen knife on the table pressed against Huang Yisheng’s neck.

Lu Zhou stood with his hands behind his back, as if the hilt of the knife was held in his palm.

Lu Zhou smiled, “How many years have you spent on the Evil Men List?”

Huang Yisheng didn’t know why this man suddenly asked such a question. He hesitated, forced a smile, “Sixty years.”

“Sixty years—you must know who ranks first on the Evil Men List?” Lu Zhou stepped closer, and his face suddenly shifted and changed rapidly.

Huang Yisheng’s face turned pale; he wanted nothing more than to flee as far as possible, for he had realized who this man was.

No wonder he was not afraid of the Thousand Mechanisms Powder earlier, and could instantly identify it; besides the cultivation of a Primordial Immortal, there was another crucial reason.

He was the one who ranked first on the Evil Men List: the Thousand-Faced Poison Lord.

“I’ve been curious. You schemed so much—was it really just for treasure? Or was your goal the Golden Arhat Statue as well?” Lu Zhou smiled.

Huang Yisheng gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with terror.

Lu Zhou said leisurely, “I have many ways to make people speak the truth, but I don’t like to use them. I suspect you don’t want to see them either. So, why not just tell me honestly?”

Huang Yisheng finally sighed, “Very well. Since the Thousand-Faced Poison Lord asks, I shall speak.”

Lu Zhou said, “Best to start from the beginning.”

Then, Lu Zhou sat calmly at the table, flanked by the now powerless Withered Leaf and Dantai Mingjing, while Chao Jin’er stood by the door, the corner of her mouth slightly upturned.

Sitting between two monks, Lu Zhou seemed more like a monk himself.

At least, Lu Zhou never killed without reason.