Chapter 822: Wuwang Ash

Lu Family Bookhouse, second floor.

Yang Xiangjun held a handkerchief to her nose and mouth, tears streaming continuously.

“Zhou Badou, you’re a respected man in Pulu Province. We agreed to a one-on-one duel—I’ll take your three strikes, and the matter ends there. As a man of letters, shouldn’t you honor your word? What kind of skill is it to bring Li Qi into this?”

Master Lu said nothing.

Yang Xiangjun looked at Li Banfeng and said: “Li Qi, you’re supposed to be a great hero—what kind of act is this? You and Zhou Badou outnumber me, and now you’ve even sneaked up behind me to attack. Think about it yourself—doesn’t this make you feel cold?”

Li Banfeng stared at the paper and ink on the desk, saying nothing.

Master Lu sighed deeply: “Brother Yang, I’m ashamed to say it—after all these years of friendship, I hate to see you suffer so much.”

Yang Xiangjun wiped her tears: “You’ve seen how much I’ve suffered. Let’s drop it all. I’ll leave the Ink Fragrance Shop right now, and we’ll call it even.”

“One stroke won’t erase it,” Master Lu glanced at the prescription Yang Xiangjun had written, then picked up the iron rod. “You spent two hours writing only three herbs. You think you can just walk away? Isn’t this a disgrace to scholarship?”

Thud! Thud!

Under the beating, Yang Xiangjun cried out: “Stop! I remember! I remember! If you beat me harder and make me forget everything, don’t blame me—”

Yang Xiangjun finished the prescription—over seventy herbs, many Li Banfeng had never heard of.

After reviewing the prescription, Master Lu asked Yang Xiangjun: “All materials and personnel are ready. How long will you need to make Wuwang Chi?”

Yang Xiangjun wiped the ink from her hands: “Six months should be enough.”

Master Lu and Li Qi picked up the iron rods and beat her for over ten minutes, until Yang Xiangjun hugged her head and screamed: “Half a day! Half a day’s enough!”

“Seventh Master, you guard Yang Xiangjun. I’ll go get the herbs.”

Li Banfeng shook his head: “I’ll handle the herbs—I move faster.”

Master Lu smiled: “I have my own methods.”

He did. In Pulu Province, Lu Family Bookhouses were everywhere. In less than half a day, Master Lu had gathered every herb.

Among them were traditional herbs and modern medicines. Yang Xiangjun mixed them, tested repeatedly, and produced several vials of liquid—all unsatisfactory.

Li Banfeng asked Yang Xiangjun: “Your technique is so refined—do you have a foundation in Medicinal Cultivation?”

Yang Xiangjun sneered: “Seventh Master, you’ve got it backward. Medicinal Cultivators are our juniors—they learned their foundations from us.”

The founder of Medicinal Cultivation was originally a Poison Cultivator, but because his talent was insufficient, he couldn’t master all Daoist arts, so he created Medicinal Cultivation out of necessity.”

“I’m not making this up—ask Zhou Badou if you don’t believe me.”

Master Lu nodded: “Brother Yang speaks truth. The founder of Medicinal Cultivation, Jiang Xuanhu, was indeed a Poison Cultivator. He was terrible at using poison but exceptionally skilled at antidotes, so he founded Medicinal Cultivation.”

“Little Brother Zhou, don’t think only Medicinal Cultivators can antidote. The real masters of antidotes are still among us Poison Cultivators. To us, Medicinal Cultivators are nothing.” Yang Xiangjun took several dried flower buds, crushed them with a pestle, placed the powder into a test tube, and boiled it for over half an hour.

The liquid in the test tube changed from red to blue. Yang Xiangjun removed the tube, let it cool, and said to Li Qi: “Bring a worm to test it.”

Li Banfeng took a Xuyuan Silkworm from the teapot—it was incredibly tough, still alive after days trapped inside.

Yang Xiangjun stared at the Xuyuan Silkworm for a moment: “This one’s been altered by spellcraft.”

Li Banfeng asked: “Does spellcraft-altered Xuyuan Silkworm become stronger?”

“Not at all.” Yang Xiangjun dripped one drop of the liquid onto the silkworm. It writhed briefly, then stiffened and went still.

Yang Xiangjun checked her pocket watch, then probed the silkworm with a needle.

The Xuyuan Silkworm was truly dead—only six seconds had passed.

But Yang Xiangjun wasn’t satisfied: “Xuyuan Silkworms are famously tough, but spellcraft-altered ones have weakened physiques. Bring me an unaltered worm to test.”

Master Lu returned to the Green Water City bookhouse, found Yu Yao, obtained several unaltered Xuyuan Silkworms, and brought them to the Ink Fragrance Bookhouse.

Yang Xiangjun dripped poison onto the worm, opened her pocket watch, timed it—over fifty seconds passed, then the silkworm flipped onto its back and stopped moving.

Yang Xiangjun closed her pocket watch and exhaled: “Not bad. This poison works.”

Master Lu was uneasy: “It takes nearly a minute to kill after poisoning. This poison’s potency is hard to believe.”

Yang Xiangjun looked up at Master Lu: “Little Brother Zhou, speak with conscience. If I went to your bookhouse to kill termites—”

“One dose, and they’d be dead in thirty seconds.”

“But this is Xuyuan Silkworm, not termite. Ordinary poison? They eat it like rice. Killing them in a minute is already impressive.”

As she spoke, the Xuyuan Silkworm on the table kicked its legs, flipped over, and began crawling again.

It had come back to life.

Li Banfeng asked Yang Xiangjun: “What do you say now?”

Yang Xiangjun stammered: “This formula was lost—I must’ve forgotten a herb. Maybe I missed one.”

Thud! Thud!

Master Lu seized the iron rod, pinned Yang Xiangjun down, and beat her again.

After a while, Yang Xiangjun bled. Whether she suddenly remembered or had been hiding it, she cried out: “Blood! We need blood!”

“What kind of blood?”

“A cultivator’s blood—the higher the realm, the better.”

“Easy!”

Master Lu took a knife and stepped close. Yang Xiangjun stared at the blade and shook her head: “It doesn’t have to be my blood—any cultivator’s will do!”

Master Lu pinned Yang Xiangjun and cut his finger.

Yang Xiangjun wept in fury: “Zhou Badou, I only schemed against you once—and I failed. Do you really need to retaliate like this? Are all scholars this petty?”

He dripped the blood into the potion, shook it, then sprinkled it over the Xuyuan Silkworm.

The silkworm twitched once, then fell completely still.

Master Lu probed it repeatedly with the needle—it did not revive. This time, it was truly dead.

He tested several more intact Xuyuan Silkworms—all died within one second.

Li Banfeng nodded in approval: “This poison is excellent.”

Master Lu felt something was off. He took a dropper, drew some potion, returned to the Green Water City bookhouse, and ran tests.

He suspected Yang Xiangjun might have used another method—the poison in the dropper might not have killed the silkworms.

Soon after, Master Lu returned: “Brother Yang, your potion doesn’t work. I tried it elsewhere—it still can’t kill Xuyuan Silkworms.”

Yang Xiangjun licked the wound on his finger, smiling at Zhou Wencheng: “Little Brother, the potion won’t work unless I’m present. If any potion worked anywhere, why would anyone need to hire me to come to their door?”

Master Lu looked at Li Banfeng: “Seventh Master, you’ll have to deal with him.”

Li Banfeng glanced at Yang Xiangjun: “He doesn’t look like someone who can get things done.”

Fearing he’d be silenced, Yang Xiangjun reluctantly agreed: “Tell me what you need first. If it’s within my ability, I’ll help.”

Li Banfeng nodded slightly to Master Lu, who took a magazine and said to Yang Xiangjun: “Step into the book.”

Yang Xiangjun laughed nervously: “Little Brother Zhou, why are you making me enter your book? I’ve done everything you asked—our grudges are settled. You won’t even give me a way out? That’s not fair.”

Master Lu pointed to the illustrations inside: “Inside are herbs and equipment. Go in and focus on making medicine.”

Li Banfeng returned to his Personal Dwelling. His wife had already drawn the map: “Husband, when we followed Meng Qian, we spent a full day reaching Spell-Cultivation Ruins—but if you ran at full speed, two or three hours would suffice.”

The map marked every landmark and included emergency strategies—if any landmark changed, Li Banfeng could still orient himself within a range, avoiding being trapped in the dream.

The route was fine. Now came the question: what to do upon reaching Spell-Cultivation Ruins?

“Husband, use your Dwelling Cultivation skill to disguise yourself, slip in the poison, and return quickly—avoid direct combat with Spell Cultivators.”

Xiang Hongying added: “Seventh Young Master, listen to Xiao Wan. Spell Cultivators are truly despicable. On the battlefield, you never notice them—then suddenly, at home, you realize you’ve been cursed.”

Li Banfeng took Xiang Hongying and his wife to the Ninth Chamber, asking Jiu’er to watch alongside.

“Hongying, take off your clothes.”

Xiang Hongying blushed: “Seventh Young Master, we’re husband and wife—why are we doing this in Jiu’er’s room? And you’re making Xiao Wan watch—”

Zhao Xiao Wan frowned: “Why not? Are you embarrassed?”

Li Banfeng said to Zhao Xiao Wan: “Wife, take off your clothes too.”

Zhao Xiao Wan froze, then grew angrier: “You madman! You want both sisters to serve you? Who taught you this? You’re playing too fancy.”

Zhao Xiao let out a startled pause, now even angrier: “You crazy man, you want both of us sisters to serve you? Who taught you this? You’re playing too fancy.”

Jiu’er blushed: “I follow my Lord. Whatever he says, I do.”

Li Banfeng said to Zhao Xiao Wan: “Wife, you and Hongying have both fought Hen Wuyou. Hongying must have been struck by his Curse-Blight—every time she mentions fighting him, she can’t even hold her spear.”

Xiang Hongying clenched her teeth: “I knew it! I never feared that bitch—she must’ve cursed me.”

Zhao Xiao Wan wasn’t surprised. After learning the Blood Fang Monster was Hen Wuyou, she’d long suspected she’d been cursed.

Li Banfeng said: “Wife, whether we can spot the Curse-Blight depends on our eyesight.”

Zhao Xiao Wan had little hope: “Husband, Jin Qing Qiuhao alone won’t find Hen Wuyou’s Curse-Blight.”

As expected, the couple studied Xiang Hongying for a long time—found nothing.

Li Banfeng sighed: “We’ll have to ask Yu Yu. Before, she helped me remove the Curse-Blight.”

Xiang Hongying doubted: “She’s not easy to persuade. Getting her to help will cost us dearly.”

Li Banfeng said: “She didn’t ask for payment—just wanted to visit our home, bringing Tian Nü with her.”

Xiang Hongying shook her head: “No way. Last time she came, she nearly tore our house apart. If she misses me, I’ll go visit her.”

Jiu’er looked at Li Banfeng: “Lord, let me persuade my mother. Even if she won’t help personally, maybe you can borrow her technique from the Deep Courtyard.”

Li Banfeng agreed: “First, we clear out Hen Wuyou’s nest, then remove the Curse-Blight she planted, then strike her when she’s unprepared!”

After half a day’s rest, Li Banfeng glanced at the magazine Master Lu had given him.

The first page showed two women in red coats, holding a Spring Festival couplet, gently swaying. Li Banfeng realized it was a New Year special issue.

The second page was an ad: a woman applying snow cream before a mirror—her dry, dull skin instantly became glossy and smooth.

Li Banfeng had only seen such moving magazines in Lu Family Bookhouses. He found them novel—even the projector was amazed: “Art fixed on paper can be dynamic? Is this a Literary Cultivator’s skill—or a secret of light and shadow?”

The third page showed Yang Xiangjun grinding herbs inside the book, surrounded by bottles and vials—many potions already made.

For safety, Li Banfeng slept for several hours in his Personal Dwelling—to build up fortune, and to give Yang Xiangjun time to ensure enough poison was made.

After waking up, Li Banfeng took the map his wife gave him and arrived at Black Stone Slope.

The last time he went to the Curse and Gu Xū, he departed from an abandoned station at the edge of the New Land, because that was where he could find Meng Qian.

This time, according to his wife’s judgment, their route included a major street at Black Stone Slope, so Li Banfeng chose to start directly on the street, avoiding Meng Qian by simply bypassing the platform.

Without Meng Qian’s suppression, Meng De’s abilities flourished; she first drew Li Banfeng into a dream, then held up the map within the dream to guide him on which way to go.

After walking over an hour, Li Banfeng reached Xiao Yao Wharf, where Ma Wu had set out a feast; Qin Xiaopang filled the cups with wine, and the brothers were about to drink when Meng De suddenly urged: “Seventh Master, it’s time to wake up.”

This is why this path is so treacherous.

If it were all dream, Meng De could follow the route and lead Li Banfeng straight through.

If it were all real terrain, Li Banfeng’s Traveler’s talent would let him navigate it.

But this path is half dream, half reality.

On the dream portions of the path, real-world methods cannot get you through.

On the real portions of the path, someone trapped in a dream loses their sense of direction.

Zhao Xiao Wan had marked every detail along the route; after Meng De woke him, Li Banfeng found no Xiao Yao Wharf before him—only a swamp.

Beyond the swamp lay an ancient earthen city; Li Banfeng entered dream again, where a man continuously sang “Night Fragrance,” and Li Banfeng used the man’s voice to lock in his direction.

After alternating between dream and reality over a dozen times, Li Banfeng finally woke fully.

He stood on a vast snowfield.

The Curse and Gu Xū had arrived—this was where they had parted from Li Yuping—but the village was still far off; Li Banfeng only remembered it lay in the southwest.

Fortunately, he was Yun Liu’s Traveler; any ordinary person would be utterly lost on this snowfield.

Li Banfeng walked dozens of li southwest and soon spotted the Curse Cultivators’ sentries: first patrols of dozens, then watchtowers of three, and finally patrols of ten.

He did not alert them, instead following the changing shifts until he reached the village.

A scent of rice wine drifted on the wind; Li Banfeng looked up and saw stilted houses clinging like scales to the cliffside, women coming and going between rooms.

Beside the cliff stood stone steps, steep and slick; the women climbing them moved carefully, for they could not fly.

If they couldn’t fly, why build their homes so perilously?

Li Banfeng slowly flew along the cliff, studying the layout of these corner towers.

At the cliff’s center, he spotted something unusual.

At the cliff’s center, a string of corner towers stacked vertically into a ten-story building; pillars, corridors, walls, windows, and roofs were all natural wood, blending invisibly against the yellowish cliff.

On each floor, several women in winter coats paced back and forth, holding leather whips.

Another group of women, dressed in tattered clothes, carried baskets, jars, and boxes in and out of the towers.

This must be where they raised their insects.

Li Banfeng did not rush upward; as Li Yuping had said, those responsible for raising insects slept five hours daily—he would wait until they were asleep before acting.

He circled the village several times and found eight such insect-rearing towers: five hung from the cliff, three built within the ravines.

Poisoning all eight towers’ insects would not be easy—whether they had enough poison was a serious question.

At midnight, a group of women filed out of the towers—it was time to sleep.

Some sounds of washing and chatter lingered; Li Banfeng waited until past one, until the village fell utterly silent, then silently flew up to the towers.

The first floor had three rooms, each guarded by Curse Cultivator soldiers.

Li Banfeng used Auspicious Avoidance to select a room, then passed through the wall with Unimpeded Passage; the walls held many traps, but their level was too low to detect Li Banfeng.

Inside the room, Li Banfeng saw a small earthen mound, loose and crumbling, stretching from floor to ceiling; footprints covered its surface—many had climbed up and down. Was this mound where they raised the insects?

Li Banfeng activated Jin Qing’s Microscopic Vision and scanned it: countless black worms writhed within the earth, some burrowing deep, others slowly emerging and crawling.

How could they poison such a vast mound?

Li Banfeng took out the magazine and summoned Yang Xiangjun.

Yang Xiangjun looked at the earthen mound and gasped: “Where is this?”

Li Banfeng clamped his hand over Yang Xiangjun’s mouth: “This is the Curse and Gu Xū.”

Yang Xiangjun swung her slender, delicate fist and punched Li Banfeng once: “Why did you bring me here?”

“To kill insects!” Li Banfeng glanced at the mound.

Yang Xiangjun scanned the mound and glared at Li Banfeng: “Are you mad? Coming to the Curse Cultivators’ stronghold to kill their insects?”

Li Banfeng also felt the task was difficult: “There are too many insects—we may not have enough poison.”

“Who said we don’t have enough? Look at whose medicine this is! Do you know how potent my poison is? One vial of this, and every insect on this mound will die!”

Saying this, Yang Xiangjun pulled out a small porcelain vial, pierced her fingertip, uncorked it, dripped a drop of blood into it, poured the medicine into her mouth, and swallowed.

Li Banfeng stared in horror: “Brother Yang, how could you drink the poison? Didn’t I tell you we might not have enough?”

Yang Xiangjun handed Li Banfeng a small vial: “Drip your blood into it and drink it too—this poison only kills Xuan Yuan Silkworms; it won’t harm humans.”

Li Banfeng held the vial: “What use is it for me to drink it?”

“To kill the Yang Jie!” Yang Xiangjun smiled smugly. “Do you think I created a poison that kills only Xuan Yuan Silkworms because I disliked the insects?”

Li Banfeng looked at the vial: “You mean Wu Wang Ash can suppress the Curse Cultivators?”

Yang Xiangjun nodded: “Wu Wang Ash kills only Xuan Yuan Silkworms, but it also suppresses high-level Curse and Gu Cultivators. I was terrified of these two sects, so I created Wu Wang Ash. Drink it now—it prevents Yang Jie, and if you’ve already been infected, it kills the insects.”

“This is excellent medicine!” Li Banfeng looked at Yang Xiangjun with newfound respect. “Such potent medicine—

why did you let it vanish?”

Yang Xiangjun sighed: “I once defeated countless Curse and Gu Cultivators with Wu Wang Ash; they all avoided me.”

But every time I took Wu Wang Ash, guilt gnawed at me. Eventually, I couldn’t bear the torment and destroyed the formula.”

“What did you feel guilty about?” Li Banfeng uncorked the vial, dripped blood into it, and prepared to drink.

Yang Xiangjun’s expression turned sorrowful: “I felt guilty for myself, worthless—I was born a man, and how many delicate beauties and blossoms did I miss?”

Puff~

Li Banfeng spat out the medicine and rinsed his mouth with his wine gourd.

Yang Xiangjun smiled faintly: “Now you understand why I tore up the formula?”

Li Banfeng pointed at the insect mound: “Focus—kill the insects.”

Yang Xiangjun poured a vial of Wu Wang Ash into one corner of the mound; instantly, every insect on the mound stirred, writhing toward that spot.

“Brother, if you’ve got time, wait here; if you’re in a hurry, we move to the next one!” Yang Xiangjun pulled a cloth sack from his robes—inside were hundreds of vials filled with medicine.

PS: Yang Xiangjun’s work is still reliable.

My fever hasn’t broken yet, so this chapter is a bit short—please forgive me, dear readers.