Mist Valley Village was supposed to be a haven for bandits and fugitives.
A place that was rough, noisy, and soaked in cheap alcohol.
But when Yan Kesh and He Qiu reached the hills overlooking the village, what greeted them was suffocating silence.
And the color green.
The mist in the valley was no longer milky white.
It was moss-green, thick, and carried a stench like rotten eggs soaked in vinegar.
"The Black Vein Sect," He Qiu whispered, his face turning pale. He recognized the black banner with a crimson vein pierced through its center, planted at the village gate. "They… they're performing a Gu Harvest."
Yan Kesh narrowed his eyes. He knew that term.
A Gu Harvest was a heretical practice of turning living humans into vessels for poisonous insects. The villagers were already doomed.
"Our path is blocked," Yan Kesh muttered. He did not care about the villagers' fate. He cared because this village was the only resting point marked on the map.
"We should detour, Master. Fighting them is suicide. Their poisons melt bones," He Qiu said, his voice trembling.
"A detour will take three days. My body needs rest tonight," Yan Kesh rejected calmly. He had just suffered severe neural trauma from Yu An's illusion. If he forced himself to march another three days, his mind would collapse.
"We're going in."
"Master?!"
Yan Kesh offered no explanation. He walked straight down the hill and into the green mist.
At the village gate, three disciples of the Black Vein Sect stood guard. Their skin carried a purplish hue, a sign that their blood had long been mixed with cultivated poison.
"Halt!" one of them barked, leveling a green-tipped spear. "This area is being cleansed. Outsiders are forbidden—wait, you look like a walking corpse."
Yan Kesh did look dreadful. His robe was torn, his body gaunt, his eyes sunken.
"I came to trade," Yan Kesh said flatly, raising Yu An's spatial pouch that he had looted earlier. "I have goods from the Thousand Faces Sect. I need a bed and some antidotes… for my companion."
He pointed at He Qiu behind him. It was, of course, a lie.
The disciple laughed, revealing blackened teeth. "Trade? We don't use money here, Beggar. We use flesh."
Without warning, the man exhaled a cloud of green mist from his mouth.
Whoosh!
The toxic fog slammed directly into Yan Kesh's face.
"Master Yan!" He Qiu cried out.
Yan Kesh did not dodge.
He inhaled it.
His breath instantly felt like fire. His lungs blistered from within. Lung-Corrosion Poison worked fast, designed to liquefy internal organs within minutes.
Yan Kesh coughed violently, black blood spraying from his mouth.
[AUDIT WARNING]
[Foreign Substance Detected: Corrosive Poison, Tier 2]
[Estimated Time to Death: 120 Seconds]
The Black Vein Sect disciple burst into laughter. "See? He doesn't even have protective Qi! Trash!"
Yan Kesh staggered forward and dropped to his knees before the disciple. His hand clutched the man's robe as if begging for mercy.
"It hurts…" Yan Kesh whispered weakly.
"Of course it hurts! Enjoy it!" the disciple mocked, leaning closer to savor Yan Kesh's suffering.
That was when Yan Kesh lifted his face.
There was no fear in his eyes.
Only the cold calculation of an accountant adjusting his ledgers.
Inside his mind, The Audit roared.
[ACTIVE TECHNIQUE: DEFERRED RETRIBUTION]
[Mode: Liability Redirection]
[Source: Organ Damage – Yan Kesh]
[Target: Nearest Physical Contact]
Yan Kesh seized the disciple's wrist with the last of his strength.
"You're right," Yan Kesh whispered, black blood dripping from his lips. "It hurts like hell. So… take it for me."
Zrrrt!
The law of cause and effect twisted.
The destruction ravaging Yan Kesh's lungs suddenly halted. The poison still lingered in his body, but its destructive effect was forcibly transferred through the point of skin contact.
The Black Vein Sect disciple's eyes bulged.
He clutched his chest.
"Ugh—!"
Black blood—identical in amount to what Yan Kesh had vomited—erupted from the man's mouth.
"What… what did you—"
The disciple's lungs melted in an instant.
He was a poison cultivator, resistant to toxins—but this was not poison. This was consequence.
The world had already "recorded" that lungs must be destroyed.
Yan Kesh had merely changed the delivery address from "Body A" to "Body B."
"ARGHHH!"
The disciple collapsed, clawing at his own throat as it dissolved. The remaining two disciples stumbled backward in terror, unable to comprehend the sorcery before them.
Yan Kesh rose slowly. His breathing was still labored, but he was no longer dying. He wiped the blood from his chin.
"Law of reciprocity," Yan Kesh said calmly to the two remaining disciples. "Your friend just agreed to shoulder my debt."
He Qiu stared at Yan Kesh's back in growing horror.
His master was not a powerful cultivator.
His master was an anomaly that twisted the rules of the world itself.
"Kill him! He's a devil!" one of the remaining disciples screamed, hurling an explosive powder talisman.
Boom!
A small explosion erupted. Yan Kesh was blown backward, his shoulder charred black.
This time, he had no target to redirect his injury to.
He grimaced, enduring real pain. Deferred Retribution had strict conditions: physical contact was required, and the damage had to be ongoing. For an instantaneous explosion, he was too late.
"He Qiu!" Yan Kesh barked as he rolled away from a spear thrust. "Finish them! Their minds are already broken!"
He Qiu snapped back to reality. The enemies were terrified. This was his chance.
Sword in hand, He Qiu charged the two panicked disciples. The fight turned even because the enemies had lost their nerve after witnessing their companion's mysterious death.
While He Qiu fought, Yan Kesh leaned against the village gate, suppressing the pain in his shoulder.
He checked The Audit.
[STATUS: POISON DEBT – DEFERRED]
[Note: Fatal effect redirected. Poison residue remains.]
[Consequence: Permanent chronic damage if not neutralized within 24 hours.]
Yan Kesh smiled bitterly.
He had escaped instant death, but now there was a ticking bomb in his bloodstream. If he could not find an antidote inside the village, he would die slowly once the deferred effect expired.
He Qiu finished off the last disciple. The young man stood among the corpses, breathing heavily.
"Master… they're dead," He Qiu reported.
"It's not over," Yan Kesh said, staring into the green-shrouded village. "We're going in. I need antidotes. And you…"
Yan Kesh looked at He Qiu, who was slowly becoming accustomed to killing.
"…you need somewhere to bury your fear."
They stepped into the dead village.
Not as saviors—
but as desperate scavengers.