[biu~]
A crisp, mechanical chime rang out only he could hear.
[Congratulations. The host's poison resistance has been raised to Level A. Host may now passively resist more than 95% of the known venoms across Douluo Continent.]
[Congratulations. Host has obtained 10 bottles of specialized antidote against the Bi-Phosphorous Snake Emperor Wuhun. Please consult manual for safe dosage.]
[Congratulations. Host has mastered Top Skill – Medicine-Poison Nerve. This includes: the collective antidote knowledge of all major herbologists, toxin compounding theories, yin-yang balance circulations, poison-forging and alchemy, detoxification methods, cultivation with medicinal overlays. Host is now an enlightened poison practitioner.]
A tidal wave of knowledge crashed through Subei's mind. His head throbbed, but not with pain—with ecstasy.
Herbal properties meshed, toxic attributes balanced, internal circulation mapped across his meridians, mysterious compounding diagrams lit up in his memory like constellations. Venoms whispered truths; antidotes spoke harmonies.
For a fleeting moment, he felt as if he could read the very bones of disease.
"Ha…" His body hummed, spine tingling with surging strength. "Strange knowledge… grows again."
A Kiss Too Bold
"Cough."
Dugu Bo cleared his throat loudly, rattling deep in his chest. His glare flew toward Dugu Yan, warning sharp as venom-tipped blades. For all his indulgence of her fiery spirit, he would never endorse her throwing away herself so recklessly.
"Yan'er."
The single word dripped with reprimand.
Flushed crimson, Dugu Yan forced herself to pull back slightly from Subei's radiant face. But she could not bear to look away long; her lips brushed with shame, she murmured:
"I… I am sorry. Yan'er offended. But his Highness… you look too good. I could not control myself."
On the boy's dazzling cheek glistened traces left by the reckless kiss—peach-pink lipstick, faint gloss of saliva, a hint of lavender tint from her powder. Under warm hall light it refracted like silver dew across flawless jade skin.
A grown man might've strangled her for such impropriety. A prince might've barked fury. But Subei only chuckled softly, lifting his pale fingers to wipe the traces away.
"It's quite alright. I'm used to it." His laugh was warm, gentle, disarming. "Besides… Sister Yan is beautiful herself. Hardly a punishment."
Poison Douluo's Bitter Heart
Dugu Bo's ancient eyes lingered on the child, a complex tide in his chest.
Accustomed? That spoke volumes.
Chased by countless girls, kissed, hugged, seized at whim—this boy had long passed the realm of ordinary youth. He was no stranger to adoration. For one so young to say such words with calm dignity… was this talent, or curse?
Ah… what scourge beauty is.
The Poison Douluo knew the weight of extremes. His venom, feared from borderlands to capitals, made him unchallenged. Yet it cursed him just as deeply.
When storms came and rains fell, numbness crawled through his ribs, agonizing itch that turned bone into fire. At noon each day, pain flushed like storm-tide through marrow, leaving him gasping. By midnight, sharp pricks skewered his skull and soles until he spasmed helpless, Titled Douluo strength shattered into convulsions of bitter weeping.
His martial spirit—the Green Phosphorous Snake Emperor—was hailed as ancestor of dragons' venom lineage. But it chained his bloodline in agony.
His son had died of it. His granddaughter Yan carried it, though still fledgling, destined to suffer.
Would she too die?
Then he truly would be alone.
The Royal Word
Gathering himself, Dugu Bo bowed his head slightly as he reported: "In addition to the Emperor's tribute gift, I was also entrusted by Prince Xue Qinghe. The prince begs pardon—he could not attend in person today. He requested if the Hall Lord finds leisure in future, that you might meet him in the palace to exchange words."
Subei's brows twitched, calm smile hiding chaos.
Familiar? Xue Qinghe and I?
Too familiar. Intimate familiarity.
He thought back with a private smirk—pressed against him in Spirit Hall halls, their bodies brushing, her secrets dancing beneath her prince's disguise. Qian Renxue, the golden angel masked in mortal silk. If anyone thought they'd only exchanged pleasantries, they did not know what territories he'd mapped with wandering hands.
But aloud he said lightly: "We crossed paths once, at the royal ceremony. Merely a conversation. Gentlemen's friendship is like water, plain but clear. A coincidence, nothing profound."
"Mm…" Dugu Yan watched his profile thoughtfully, awe carved ever-deeper. To her, even understatement sounded like poetry. He not only shines with divine beauty, he wields intelligence… a prodigy among prodigies.
Her heart starlit, she trembled. She wanted to peel the mask of dustless immortality deeper. What lies beneath that serene face?
The Problem of Attachment
Inside, though, Subei sighed.
How am I to see you, Xue'er? Tiandou lies provinces away. To travel means abandoning Shenyan Hall, leaving Teacher Bibi Dong fuming, Ziji and Brigitte raging. Step out one night and they'll chain me in cave and bed both.
This was a golden cage. Luxury, love, madness—yet a cage.
He looked at Dugu Yan and murmured: "I cannot promise time. Setting up Shenyan Hall brought… friction. Too many duties to leave lightly. But tell the Prince: should he wish, my hall forever leaves a chamber for him."
The Refusal
"Understood." Dugu Bo inclined stiffly. "Then, with respects paid, I shall take my leave."
But his glance snapped to his granddaughter, voice brooking no argument: "Yan'er. Enough. You've kissed, you've seen—satisfied? Come. Go home."
Her eyes widened. "Grandpa, I— I cannot."
She boldly clutched Subei's sleeve, trembling but fierce: "Yan'er… wants to stay. Yan'er wishes to remain by the Lord of the Hall!"
Gasps swept through attendants.
Even Subei blinked.
Had they… crossed a line? One hug, one kiss turned into this declaration?
"Absurd!" Dugu Bo's fury cracked. "Do not mistake impulsive fire for fate. You think a single stolen kiss is innocence given away?"
Tears shimmered in her pale eyes. "But… but didn't Your Highness and I… hold, embrace, kiss? In Yan'er's heart… that is already all my innocence!"
"…Huh?"
Even Subei couldn't suppress dry amusement. What strange equation of passions. Some women shared beds with him and called it "mutual indulgence." And here, one brush of lips had tethered her soul for life.
Truly… appearances turn icebergs into stoves. Nothing is safe when beauty burns this high.
The Antidote
The quarrel snapped Subei's memory: Dugu Bo's curse, left unsaid.
"Elder Dugu," Subei interrupted gently, "is your fear not precisely her carrying your venom? The backlash of bi-phosphorous snake poison?"
Eyes darting, Dugu Bo froze.
From his sleeve, Subei withdrew a small white vial, etched with painted serpents. A black skull sat upon their heads, characters on its belly: "Shehuang Powder – Anti-Venom."
Calmly, Subei set it down. "An antidote. Tailored. At the least, relief. At best, a cure."
Instant suspicion flashed. "Your Highness jests. My venom… I cannot cure it after decades. Do you, a child, dare claim so?"
His words dripped thunder—yet a faint stir of panic lurked.
Subei's smile never wavered: "You limp at moments, Elder. Your breath hitching, your joints stiff—symptoms plain to read. Yan'er is young, yet already shows traces. Without remedy, she will drown deeper in your torment. Knowing and doing nothing—is that love?"
The words cut like knives.
"Presumptuous!" Dugu Bo barked, gripping Yan'er's wrist. "You think poison shallow water to scoop by hand? Medicine and toxin are oceans. A youth cannot fathom them by glances!"
But as he shouted, Subei softly cracked the bottle.
At once, fragrance shifted.
It wasn't perfume. It wasn't food. It was clean medicine. Sharp, bitter, profound—yet layered, balanced in ways medical masters rarely achieved.
The scent tickled every corner of Dugu Bo's bones. Instinct recoiled, heart constricted. His pride as peerless poison master shattered against simple inhalation.
"Impossible—!" He wrenched closer, snatched a tiny pellet, orange gleam flickering in its shell. His hands trembled as he set it into his mouth.
Within seconds, warmth surged down his meridians, blossoming across bones gnawed by years of agony. Pain—so constant he no longer felt it—quieted. The venom strain recoiled like shadow under dawn.
Too strong! Too precise!
"Magical…"
His whisper cracked into stunned cry. He collapsed to one knee, head bent, cupping empty hands toward Subei.
"I… Dugu Bo… blind and arrogant… offended Your Highness. Forgive me! This cure—this grace—how can poison repay beauty? Give me this formula and my life is yours!"
A Titled Douluo bowed ninety degrees to a child. Elders in the hall gasped, slack-jawed.
Subei smiled faintly, refusing the pull of pride to gloat. "No formula—for I did not refine this myself. A reclusive master gave me limited supply. His whereabouts are difficult. But…" His eyes softened toward Dugu Yan. "I have treatment enough for her. In time, perhaps even cure fully."
In his mind, though, his thoughts twirled. Or perhaps it depends on how close your 'granddaughter' grows to me, Poison Douluo.
A Faithful Madman
And far outside Shenyan Hall's splendor—
Steam thickened over a hot spring. Tang San stripped away his rags, plunging himself in icy cleanse, scrubbing soil until flesh bruised, washing again and again, until skin gleamed raw. He donned neat new robes, every fold aligned.
Mirror in spring revealed a slender youth's face, exhausted but determined.
"Yes," he whispered hoarsely to his reflection. "Now I am cleansed. Now I can stand before Teacher."
Clutched at his chest: the Yama Token, soul-chaser hidden weapon steeped in fatal poison; and the Xuanyu Hand Manual. Gifts forged with his life. Revelations to beg forgiveness.
Teacher must glance at me once again. Even if he hates me. Even if he scorns me. Let me guard him once more.
His teeth gritted. His lips parted in sick devotion.
"Teacher… here comes your faithful disciple."
And in his heart boiled the single mad mantra:
I lick. I lick. I lick.
--
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