Three days after awakening his dantian, Tang Yun stood at the edge of the Tang Clan's inner training grounds. Morning mist clung to the dirt like reluctant ghosts, and the air stank faintly of sweat, steel, and old blood.
The youngest disciples were already gathered. Their voices buzzed in mock confidence, and wooden weapons clacked with the rhythm of drills.
Tang Yun, still gaunt and pale, stepped onto the field. His presence was like a whisper in the wind barely noticed, easily dismissed.
"Oi, look who's here again," sneered Tang Fei, a senior disciple just barely thirteen. His arms were thick from spear drills, and his face bore the smugness of someone who had never been beaten down by life. "Didn't you cough up blood last week trying to do basic breathing techniques?"
Some of the others laughed. One spat on the ground, not even trying to hide the disdain.
Tang Yun didn't answer. His eyes swept across them not with fear, but with calculation.
In his past life, people like Tang Fei were insects. No, worse flies. Buzzing nuisances that hovered around filth, making noise but dying with a slap.
Yet now, he needed them.
They were test subjects.
Opportunities.
Building blocks.
He stepped into one of the open sparring circles.
"I want to challenge Tang Fei," he said.
The courtyard quieted.
Someone laughed nervously. "Is he serious?"
Tang Fei frowned. "You? You can't even lift a real sword."
Tang Yun didn't smile. "You're right. I won't need one."
Tang Fei's scowl deepened. "Fine. I'll beat some sense into your skull."
A wooden practice blade was tossed to Tang Yun, but he let it drop to the ground.
The circle widened. The others leaned in, hungry for entertainment.
Tang Fei lunged.
Fast. Predictable. Sloppy.
Tang Yun sidestepped not with the grace of a trained martial artist, but with the instinct of someone who'd dodged death countless times.
He tapped Tang Fei's wrist with two fingers. A small jab. Barely any force.
Fei turned to swing again.
But his body froze.
Eyes wide, Tang Fei dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach.
"W-what did you… do…?"
He vomited. First bile. Then blood.
The onlookers shrieked and backed away.
Tang Yun crouched beside him and whispered, "A dose so small even a rat might survive it. But your blood is slow. Your veins are weak. Don't worry it'll wear off… eventually."
He stood and turned to the others.
"If anyone else wishes to fight me, come forward."
No one moved.
For the first time, the courtyard was silent in fear, not boredom.
Later that evening, word spread like wildfire through the Tang estate.
The sickly twelfth son had crippled Tang Fei in a single move. No sword. No stance. Just poison.
It wasn't long before the family elders took notice.
Tang Yun was summoned to the Pavilion of Silent Judgment a stone hall surrounded by toxic lotus ponds. It was where the Tang Clan disciplined traitors… and sometimes discovered geniuses.
He knelt before four elders, their robes lined with dark silk, their eyes sharp and judging.
"Your file," one elder said, "marks you as unfit for clan duties. Yet you have stepped into the Qi Awakening Realm and used poison in direct combat."
Tang Yun kept his head bowed. "I was defending myself, Honored Elder."
Another scoffed. "With a forbidden internal toxin? Do you even know what you used?"
"'Heartmelt Powder.' Diluted with snake root. Applied via acupuncture point 12 on the wrist."
There was a long pause.
Elder Tang Mo raised an eyebrow. "Where did you learn that?"
"I read it."
"In a restricted scroll."
Tang Yun didn't flinch. "No, Elder. In a dream."
They didn't believe him. But they also didn't stop him.
Tang Mo leaned forward. "You show talent. But our clan is not a playground. You must prove your loyalty… and your worth."
He clapped once.
Two servants dragged a cage into the room. Inside was a howling beast, a Bloodfang Boar. Its red-tinted tusks dripped venom, and its eyes were wild with madness.
"A gift from the Black Swamp Sect," Elder Mo said. "Kill it with poison. Survive the process. Then we will speak of worth."
Tang Yun looked at the cage.
And smiled.
They gave him three hours.
He spent the first one extracting herbs from the elder garden. No one stopped him now.
He spent the second grinding them to powder, mixing them with fermented spider eggs he had secretly been cultivating for a week.
He spent the third luring the boar into a baited trap inside the outer courtyard's arena.
By the end of the trial, the beast was dead.
Not from a slash or blow.
But from the inside out.
Its guts melted. Its blood boiled. And not a drop spilled on the arena stones.
The elders, watching from the high balcony, said nothing.
But Tang Mo's fingers twitched in approval.
"Acceptable," was all he said.
But that night, Tang Yun was given access to the Second Hall a private library meant for only inner family alchemists and poison crafters.
His new life had begun.
Back in his chambers, Tang Yun studied the advanced manuals with growing intensity. His poison core pulsed stronger now. The qi in his meridians was slow, but steady. Still Early Qi Awakening. But stable.
He set a plan.
Within three months, he would reach Mid Qi Awakening.
Within a year, he would open his meridians.
But brute cultivation wouldn't be enough.
He needed influence.
Allies. Pawns.
Enemies to sharpen his blade.
Tang Yun's first target was Tang Wei one of the elder's direct sons, a promising disciple in the Tempering Realm, and a known bully who extorted outer disciples.
He watched from shadows for a week.
Then struck.
Not with poison.
But with a rumor.
That Tang Wei was using forbidden herbs.
That he had stolen from the elder's garden.
The rumor grew, warped, and twisted. Tang Yun dropped hints near the kitchens, whispered it near the bathhouses, let the servants carry the tale.
And when Tang Wei's quarters were searched… the herbs were found.
Planted by Tang Yun the night before.
The punishment was swift.
Tang Wei was lashed thirty times and demoted to outer disciple.
Tang Yun was promoted to inner disciple.
He stood at the edge of the punishment hall as Tang Wei screamed, watching the blood run down his rival's back with a cool, calm smile.
This time, he would not wait to be hunted.
He would strike first.
Late that night, as the estate slumbered, Tang Yun sat cross-legged beneath a lotus tree, absorbing the poison mist that hung over the ponds.
He drew in qi slowly, steadily.
He had walked through death.
Now, he would walk through power.
And this time, he would not walk alone.
He would build a shadow empire.
And the Murim world would tremble beneath his feet.
[Tags]: Reincarnation, Martial Arts, Poison, Scheming Protagonist, Cultivation, Weak to Strong, Anti-Hero, Cold Protagonist, Clan Wars, Hidden Identity, Revenge