Chapter 49

“Jiang Zhishi, you must be extremely careful with these fire centipedes.”

Seeing Jiang Ye silent, Lü Ming assumed the new senior zhishi was intimidated by the words “fire centipede,” and quickly lowered his voice, his expression grave as he continued his warning:

“These fire centipedes are nocturnal—they hide underground during the day and only emerge at night.”

“Unlike ordinary centipedes that flee at the sight of humans, these are naturally violent and will actively bite people!”

“Several Qi-Condensation disciples from Tianyangfeng have been bitten before—suffered terribly, and some… didn’t survive the poison.”

Here, he sighed, a hint of helplessness on his face:

“The worst part is, they’re terrifyingly sensitive—they can sense our qi from far away.”

“The moment we show up, they ‘whoosh’ back underground. We simply can’t catch them.”

“Even Elder Qin himself once tried to clear them out of the herb garden—ended up accomplishing nothing.”

He paused, then looked at Jiang Ye with solemn gravity:

“So, Jiang Zhishi, if you ever catch one gnawing on the herbs, don’t bother trying to kill it—that’s too hard. Just drive it away in time and protect the herbs. That’s success.”

Jiang Ye nodded slowly, feigning deep thought, “So that’s how it is…”

In truth, Jiang Ye was already silently laughing inside.

Sensitive perception?

He, Jiang Mou, was the master of concealing his qi.

These fire centipedes had just walked straight into his blade.

“By the way, young brother,” Jiang Ye mused a moment, then asked, “If pests eat the herbs, does the herb garden have yield requirements for us?”

“Hehe, Jiang Zhishi, you’ve hit the nail on the head.”

Lü Ming’s eyes lit up, grinning with a knowing look: “Because of the pests, some herbs are inevitably lost.”

“So the garden’s rule for us guards is—maintain at least ninety percent yield.”

He counted on his fingers: “Say your Tiankui herb patch—harvested every six months, planted with a thousand plants.”

“Then after six months, you must submit at least nine hundred plants to pass inspection.”

Jiang Ye’s aged eyes suddenly gleamed.

Minimum requirement: ninety percent…

That left plenty of room to maneuver.

If he could protect all thousand plants, he could legally “embezzle” a hundred for himself.

Seeing his expression, Lü Ming chuckled knowingly: “Jiang Zhishi, that’s exactly what you’re thinking.”

But he quickly added, dousing the old man’s enthusiasm: “But your Tiankui herbs attract fire centipedes more than other herbs—so even hitting ninety percent will be tough.”

Jiang Ye’s aged face broke into a faint smile, nodding calmly: “Old man… can only do his best.”

As they walked and chatted, they soon reached the southern edge of the Tiankui herb garden.

A small wooden hut stood there, similar in layout to the one at the entrance but far more secluded.

“Jiang Zhishi, since fire centipedes only come out at night, our vigilance must focus on nighttime. This hut is your lodging.”

Lü Ming pushed open the hut’s door.

Inside, it was small but clean and tidy.

A simple wooden plank bed stood against the wall, covered with dry straw mats.

In the corner lay sacks of rice, flour, oil, salted vegetables, and dried meat—supplies provided by the sect for herb garden guards.

Though small, it had everything needed.

“Good, good—this is a fine place.”

Jiang Ye glanced around, nodding slightly, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

As a sect zhishi, he could have applied for a cave dwelling on Tianyangfeng anytime.

But that cave dwelling couldn’t match the quiet solitude of this secluded little hut.

“As long as Jiang Zhishi is comfortable here.”

Lü Ming grinned: “I live in a hut beside the Chiyang herb garden—not far from here. If you need anything, just come find me.”

“Then I may trouble you, young brother, someday.”

Jiang Ye bowed politely.

After a few more casual words, Lü Ming took his leave.

His figure vanished quickly at the end of the garden path.

Jiang Ye stood at the hut’s doorway, gazing at the blood-red herb field swaying gently in the breeze, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curling on his aged lips.

Tiankui herbs… fire centipedes… ninety percent yield…

This place was growing more interesting by the moment.

He turned back inside, closing the door.

He sat cross-legged on the wooden plank bed, pulling out the “Taming Poison Scripture,” and under the light filtering through the window frame, began studying the chapter on “fire centipedes.”

Night fell, the moonlight cool.

Jiang Ye opened the hut’s door and stepped slowly into the herb garden.

Moonlight spilled like water over the blood-red Tiankui herbs, dyeing the entire field a deep, dark crimson.

Time to meet these beasts.

He activated the Deer Form True Meaning, his body seeming to merge with the surroundings—his footsteps on the garden soil as silent as treading clouds.

His gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, swept across the blood-red herb field below.

Under the moonlight, each Tiankui herb swayed gently, dewdrops on their leaves glinting faintly.

Suddenly, a faint rustling reached his ears.

The sound of soil shifting—so light, so subtle, undetectable unless he was utterly focused.

Under the moonlight, the tiankui grasses swayed gently, dewdrops on their leaves glinting with faint light.

Jiang Ye turned toward the sound.

A centipede, half a foot long, entirely crimson as fire, its armored back hard and gleaming with metallic luster, slowly crawled from the soil.

Its fiery red color blended perfectly with the Tiankui herbs—excellent camouflage.

Had Jiang Ye not had sharp eyes, he might have missed it entirely.

Jiang Ye did not move immediately, continuing to observe its behavior.

Along each segment of its back, a ring of fine, dark red spines grew—like glowing embers.

Its legs were countless, densely packed along both sides, each tipped with hooked claws, allowing it to climb plants as easily as walking on flat ground.

After emerging, its jet-black compound eyes glowed with cold, watchful light, turning slowly—once it sensed no other qi, it hissed in excitement and lunged toward a Tiankui leaf.

Along the edge of each segment of its back armor grew a ring of fine, backward-pointing spines, dark red like the smoldering embers of burning charcoal.

It had countless legs, densely arranged along both sides of its body, each tip armed with hooked claws, allowing it to climb plants and trees as if walking on flat ground.

Two slender branches, carved into knife shapes, shot from the darkness like ghosts, pinching the centipede’s body and lifting it into the air!

The one who struck was none other than Jiang Ye.

Sssss!

The fire centipede emitted an agonized, piercing hiss, thrashing violently.

Its countless legs flailed wildly, hooked claws grasping empty air—nothing to hold.

Its jet-black compound eyes locked onto Jiang Ye, filled with a human-like glare of fury and fear.

Its deep red mandibles snapped open and shut, tips glowing with eerie luminescence—the sign of concentrated fire poison, desperate to crush this insolent enemy.

Jiang Ye watched the writhing centipede, still trying to bite, and a flicker of mockery passed through his aged eyes.

Though he’d used only two slender branches,

a Qi-Condensation cultivator’s internal force balanced softness and hardness.

A feather could not be added; a fly could not land.

How could this fire centipede escape his palm?

He raised the centipede to the moonlight for closer inspection.

His gaze settled on its abdomen.

There, a faint crimson mark—light, almost invisible—like the lingering shadow of dawn’s first light.

Jiang Ye’s eyes dimmed slightly with disappointment.

Raising poison pets came in two ways.

One was mass breeding—raising all, good or bad, relying on numbers.

The other was refined breeding—selecting the single best specimen, pouring all resources into it to forge a powerful companion.

Jiang Ye preferred refined breeding.

So he must choose a high-quality fire centipede.

According to the “Taming Poison Scripture,” quality was easily judged by the fire mark on the abdomen—the deeper the mark, the better the quality.

Legends said the finest fire centipedes bore crimson fire marks as deep as blood, visible to the bone—once tamed, they could help their masters slay enemies of higher rank, with immense power.

This one’s mark was nearly invisible…

According to the *Classic of Poison Mastery*, the quality of fire centipedes is easily judged by the fire marks on their abdomens—the deeper the mark, the better the quality.

Rumors say that a top-grade fire centipede has a crimson fire mark on its belly, as red as blood, deep enough to reveal bone; once tamed as a pet, it can aid its master in killing enemies across realms, its power boundless.

This one before me has a fire mark so faint it’s nearly invisible...

“Trash.”

Jiang Ye loosened his fingers.

Sssss!

The fire centipede, suddenly released, cried out as if granted divine mercy, then desperately tried to burrow into the soil and escape.

The next instant.

Shhh!

Accompanied by a sharp whistle of air splitting.

Jiang Ye twisted his wrist; the branch in his hand carved a graceful arc through the air, like a falling crescent moon, slicing across the fire centipede’s body.

Pata.

The centipede’s half-foot-long body split cleanly in two, falling to the ground.

Its ink-black compound eyes still held a flicker of human-like disbelief, as if accusing the human before it of deceit.

Jiang Ye hated waste above all—he always finished every grain of rice in his bowl.

Especially a venomous creature like the fire centipede; its value must be maximized.

A fire centipede of this quality was perfect for practicing Blood Moon Blade.

“Blood Moon Blade proficiency +5!”

The system’s prompt sounded.

"Indeed, killing these somewhat dangerous venomous insects increases my sword proficiency more than practicing aimlessly."

A flicker of satisfaction passed through Jiang Ye’s eyes.

He hadn’t been idle in the guest quarters—besides studying the Book of Venom Control, he’d trained Blood Moon Blade relentlessly.

Mastered Techniques: Five Animal Fist [Perfected] Blood Moon Blade [Beginner, 458/500]

Jiang Ye glanced at the system panel and nodded silently.

“Almost there—I’ll reach Minor Proficiency in Blood Moon Blade tonight.”

Jiang Ye swallowed a Blood-Replenishing Pill, then resumed searching for fire centipedes.

About an hour later.

The moon slanted westward, casting its pale silver glow over the blood-red herb fields.

Jiang Ye’s figure still moved like a ghost through the grass, the two slender branches in his hands having already snatched up countless fire centipedes.

“This one’s no good either.”

He glanced down at his latest catch.

Nearly a foot long, it was robust even by fire centipede standards, its body a deep crimson like charcoal, its dorsal spines thicker and sharper than before.

But when his gaze fell upon its abdomen, he still shook his head in disappointment.

The fire mark there remained faint—only slightly better than the previous “trash.”

He lifted his wrist slightly, raised the branch, and prepared to strike as before.

Shhh!

Before the blade’s glow could fall, an unexpected change occurred.

The fire centipede’s body split cleanly in two midair—before the branch even touched it.

The cut was smooth as a mirror, as if cleaved by an invisible blade.

The centipede didn’t even have time to scream; its two halves fell with a pata, their black compound eyes still glazed with confusion—as if, even in death, it couldn’t comprehend what had happened.

Seeing this, Jiang Ye’s pupils contracted sharply.

Cutting through air from afar...

This was blade momentum.