The scholar surnamed Feng continued, "That strategist's first disciple only lived for a little over a month before dying. This was likely caused by improper cultivation. Although the herbs for this kind of introductory body-cleansing are not particularly rare or hard to find, a few of them are extremely scarce in the mortal world."
"However, his second disciple managed to pass the introductory body-cleansing stage and cultivated to the first layer of Qi Condensation, but he also suffered from Fire Poison. Later, for some unknown reason, this disciple learned that he was being used for 'spirit absorption' and sought out the local army's marshal and another martial arts master to ambush the strategist." As he spoke, a strange expression appeared on the scholar's face.
The others shook their heads upon hearing this. The dark-skinned, stout man with the golden compass on his sleeve spoke up, "How could they possibly win? Even if he was afflicted with Fire Poison, that strategist was at the peak of the third layer of Qi Condensation. He's not someone a few martial arts masters could kill. Even several times that number would be futile."
The other cultivators, including the Daoist at the head, all voiced their agreement with the stout man's words.
The scholar surnamed Feng just shook his head. "Junior Brother Liang has guessed wrong."
"Oh? You mean they killed the strategist? It wasn't your Law-Enforcement Hall that killed him?" Junior Brother Liang asked, surprised.
"This is what I find quite unexpected. Not only did they kill the strategist, but the main credit does not belong to those two worldly martial arts masters. Instead, it came from the strategist's own disciple. That mortal disciple of his is only fifteen or sixteen years old, born to a farming family at the foot of the Great Green Mountains. According to the report from the disciples below, judging from the scene of the fight, from the initial ambush to the final killing blow, it seems to have all been his doing. His methods were cunning, decisive, and ruthless."
"When my peak's disciples arrived, everyone except for this mortal disciple was already dead. The marshal and the other martial arts master were both killed by the 'Fireball Art' and the 'Wood Thorn Art.' That mortal disciple was also on the brink of death, so our disciples planned to finish him off as well. Although he was innocent, he had indirectly stolen and practiced our sect's immortal art. Besides, he was a dying man, hardly worth wasting medicinal pills on."
Everyone nodded. In the cultivation world, there was no such thing as saving the weak or helping the strong, let alone sympathy.
"But just as they were about to end his life, they unexpectedly discovered that this mortal disciple, for some unknown reason, had developed the symptoms of the 'Fragmented Poison Body,' so they brought him back."
"Oh? Have you confirmed it? Did he really develop the 'Fragmented Poison Body'?"
"It's been nearly a thousand years since anyone in our sect has successfully cultivated the 'Fragmented Poison Body.' He didn't have the corresponding cultivation manual, so how did he manage it? Could it be related to the improper practice of the wood-attribute 'Night Curtain Art'?"
"Yes, this poison body is ranked second among our sect's three great poison bodies. Since the sect's founding in ancient times, only a dozen or so people have ever cultivated these three great poison bodies. Which one of them didn't go through countless hardships and rely on great fortuitous encounters to succeed?"
The people in the hall broke into a flurry of discussion, not waiting for the Feng scholar's reply.
"Enough, enough! What is this behavior? This is like a mortal marketplace! Since someone already mentioned great fortuitous encounters, and everyone's encounters are different, if he obtained it, he obtained it. It seems that little friend must have had a great fortune. Junior Brother Feng..." the solemn-faced old Daoist at the head shouted, silencing the crowd.
The Feng scholar looked at the crowd with a bitter smile.
The solemn-faced old Daoist frowned at this. "What? Was the examination result not the 'Fragmented Poison Body'?"
Below, his junior brothers and some of the elders, except for Junior Brother Wei of Little Bamboo Peak who looked as if it had nothing to do with him, all showed a hint of disappointment.
"That's not it. I personally examined him yesterday. It is indeed the 'Fragmented Poison Body,' and it's already showing faint signs of permeating his tendons and bones. It's just that this child has a Miscellaneous Spirit Root," the Feng scholar said, shaking his head and sighing.
"A Fragmented Poison Body with a Miscellaneous Spirit Root? How is that possible? Curse the High Immortals..."
"A Miscellaneous Spirit Root? How could such a constitution cultivate this ancient body? Junior Brother Feng, are you absolutely certain?"
"Well, this is interesting. This humble girl wouldn't mind taking this boy in to study him, hehehe."
The solemn-faced old Daoist sat at the head, silent. After a long while, he sighed. "Junior Brother Feng, are you sure?"
The Feng scholar stood up, his long robe billowing, and bowed. "Sect Master, your junior brother would not be mistaken on this point. At first, I also thought I had misjudged in my excitement, so I had several of the elders who went with me also test him. But the final result is a Miscellaneous Spirit Root."
"Then that is a true pity. A Miscellaneous Spirit Root... even if we give him endless resources, he would likely only ever reach the Foundation Establishment stage in his life. A pity, a pity, what a pity," the old Daoist said, repeating "a pity" three times.
"Then how should we deal with this child?" the Feng scholar asked, looking towards the Sect Master.
"Kill him. What's the point of keeping him? It would just be a waste of resources. A person like that is not worthy of such a great fortune. Having it but being unable to make great use of it is just infuriating to look at. Better to just end it," the dark-skinned, stout man with the golden compass on his sleeve said impatiently.
Several others nodded in silent agreement. Cultivation resources were for those who were useful. Those with no future were left to fend for themselves. There was no room for sentiment in the cultivation world.
"Didn't Senior Sister Li just say she wanted to take him as a disciple? Hehe," someone said, looking at the voluptuous, charming woman.
"Yes, yes, I want to take him. This humble girl has only heard of this poison body; I'd love to experience it," the beautiful woman said, her eyes full of charm, her smile blooming like a peach blossom.
The men below looked at her smiling face and felt a chill run down their spines. 'If that boy became this woman's disciple, would he even survive a day?'
The solemn-faced old Daoist shook his head upon hearing this. "Junior Sister Li, you must not. The 'Fragmented Poison Body' is a unique constitution. A single drop of its fluid or blood can transform into myriad poisons. How can I let you take him?"
"Oh, you old ghost of a Senior Brother, what's wrong with me taking him? Can't I just peacefully take a disciple? I didn't say I was going to turn him into a gu-insect," the beautiful woman said, looking up at the old Daoist with displeasure.
"Junior Sister, although this boy has a Miscellaneous Spirit Root, if we invest heavily in his training, there's a chance he could cultivate to the Foundation Establishment stage. With that 'Fragmented Poison Body,' if he can cultivate to the late stage of Foundation Establishment, even a Golden Core master would have trouble claiming victory against him. That powerful physique and the ever-changing, self-generating toxins are not to be underestimated. Therefore, even with a Miscellaneous Spirit Root, if used well, he could be a match for a Golden Core expert. Even at his worst, if he trains to the late stage of Qi Condensation, he would rarely meet his match in the Foundation Establishment stage," the old Daoist said, looking down at the others.
The people below had all cultivated for several hundred years. They were all sharp-minded individuals. They had only lost their composure due to the immense disappointment. The 'Fragmented Poison Body' had only been cultivated by three people in hundreds of millions of years. Now, someone had actually cultivated it at the Qi Condensation stage, but unfortunately, he could only stop at Foundation Establishment. The blow was immense.
The beautiful woman's expression hardened as the old man spoke, and she was about to speak when a clear voice rang out. "Sect Master, Senior Sister Li, I think this child should join my peak. I'll take him as a Disciple-in-Name for now." Everyone looked towards the source of the voice. It was Junior Brother Wei from Little Bamboo Peak, who had been smiling silently all this time.
"Oh, Little Junior Brother, this is strange. You are a grand Golden Core cultivator. Why would you take a Qi Condensation disciple as your student?" the beautiful woman asked with a coy smile, looking at the chubby young man sitting primly in his chair.
"Senior Sister, weren't you just about to take him as a disciple yourself? Was that a lie? Or did you want to take him and turn him into a gu-insect? Of my seven disciples, don't I also have one at the Qi Condensation stage as a Disciple-in-Name? One more won't make a difference. When they both reach the Foundation Establishment stage, I will formally accept them as my disciples. Besides, as you all just said, he has a Miscellaneous Spirit Root. Think of the resources that will take. Your other peaks' resources... hehe," the chubby Junior Brother Wei said, chuckling as he looked at the beautiful woman.
The beautiful woman was momentarily speechless. The others also nodded. When it came to resources, which peak could compare to Little Bamboo Peak? Including the handymen, they had fewer than twenty people. Even though a large portion of their resources was deducted each year, no other peak could compare. This was also why, over the years, as the number of disciples on the other peaks grew and the competition for resources became more brutal, newly admitted disciples would now break their heads trying to get into Little Bamboo Peak. Even the disciples who had previously left Little Bamboo Peak were green with regret. But back then, how could they have known that this Peak Master would eventually just keep a few disciples and close his peak's gates? Although resources were still allocated per person, there was no competition.
The solemn-faced old Daoist nodded frequently. He felt that this chubby junior brother had finally thought of the sect for once. "Junior Brother Wei's words are very true. You take him and cultivate him well. Perhaps he can become a great asset in the future. In that case, we can ease up on the resources deducted from your Little Bamboo Peak each year."
"Sect Master, Junior Brother Wei's Little Bamboo Peak only has a few people, and you're still easing up? How can you be so biased?"
"Exactly, exactly! Sect Master, we have thousands of people now, and we're scraping by all year..."
"..."
"Silence! What is this behavior? Little Bamboo Peak may have few people, but you all know in your hearts how many resources they receive each year. The extra amount is limited. It just lacks the competition among disciples. In four years, it will be the time for the Four Sects' Realm-Seeking and Harvesting Period. For the ten years following that, each peak will receive an additional ten percent of the various spirit herbs and items brought back from the secret realm each year. Moreover, when we clash with those so-called reputable and orthodox sects, do you think it's only about what we bring back from the harvest?" the old Daoist said with a cold face.
Hearing this, everyone below felt a jolt. They thought, 'An extra ten percent each year, that's a lot!'
Then, they thought about the results of past harvests and the ashen faces of those from the reputable and orthodox sects, and they began to calculate.
Next, the group discussed some other matters. Half an hour later, they filed out of the great hall. Streaks of colored light flashed, and they were all gone.
...
Li Yan sat on the bed in a daze, staring out the window at the dancing spirit birds and the immortal qi swirling over the pond. His mind still felt as if it were in a dream.
When he had woken up last night, the faint scent of sandalwood filled his nostrils. He slowly opened his eyes, and what greeted him was a white bed curtain with tassels hanging from it, swaying gently in the breeze. Beneath him was a soft wooden bed with exquisitely carved decorations on the headboard. He was covered with a silk quilt. Looking around, the room was not large. Besides the bed he was on, there was a table and a chair near the window. The window had hollowed-out carvings, and outside was a scene of a fairyland: a small mountain, a pond, green lotus roots, and pink lotus flowers among which golden fish would occasionally leap, then fall back, splashing water onto the lotus leaves, forming crystal-clear droplets that slowly slid to the edge of the green leaves and dripped back into the pond.
He shook his head and looked around again in disbelief. It was still the same. He was lying in a room, not in the forests of the Great Green Mountains. He tried to move and found that there was no discomfort in his body. He sighed. This was definitely not a dream, and certainly not within his sea of consciousness. One of his legs had been injured and the other broken, and the Fire Poison in his body had flared up, yet now he felt no pain at all. Was he just a soul now?
Where was this place? Last time in his sea of consciousness, he had made a fool of himself thinking he was in Avici Hell. This time, he was sure he would not make the same mistake. He moved and found he could act freely, without any restrictions. He immediately sat up and prepared to get out of bed. When he lifted the quilt, he was stunned. He could not be just a soul body.
He was still wearing the same tattered black robe, which was still stained with blood. He hesitantly pulled up the black robe on his lower body and looked at his legs. His pants were the same ones he wore yesterday, also stained with blood, but his right calf and left thigh each had a long slit torn open, revealing the muscle underneath. He grew even more confused. With both hands, he pulled the slits in his pant legs wider and saw that his legs were completely uninjured.
He lifted his right leg. No problem at all. He remembered that was the leg he had kicked Strategist Ji with, which had then been broken by Ji's counterforce. Now, there was no sign of injury. He looked at his left thigh. That area was also completely scar-free, with no trace of the cut from the "Wind Blade Art." Was killing Strategist Ji a dream, or was this a dream? He raised his hand and pinched his own face.
"You're awake." Just as he felt the pain on his face, a voice sounded next to his ear.