Chapter 401: Iron-backed Thorn Insect

"Xiashanhu!" Gazing at the unruly, fierce-eyed man before him, Chen Zheng's face sank as he stepped in front of Dong Yumin.

"Three years have passed, and we meet again. Three years ago, you trampled me in front of everyone, forcing me to flee to that godforsaken South Africa. Three years ago, Chen Zheng, did you ever imagine today would come? Hahaha." Xiashanhu laughed wildly, his voice brimming with the hatred of flaying and dismembering Chen Zheng.

Yet after Xiashanhu and his men appeared, that eerie flying sword ceased its attack, hovering motionless in midair behind him—an abnormal sign indicating the sword's master is allied with Xiashanhu.

"Xiashanhu, the one who clashed with your elder brother is me, and no one else. If you seek revenge, come at me alone; don't drag others into this." Fan Wuchang staggered forward to stand before the crowd, staring directly at Xiashanhu.

"Hah, what revenge? I'm thrilled that that cowardly Northeastern Tiger is dead. I've no idle interest in avenging him. Get lost." Xiashanhu suddenly lashed out, kicking Fan Wuchang, then fixed Chen Zheng with a vicious stare: "You know what I want."

His tone of unrestrained defiance seemed utterly indifferent to his elder brother's life or death—indeed, he wished his own elder brother dead.

Chen Zheng fell silent for a long while, then, under Xiashanhu's fervent gaze, said in a low voice: "I don't know what you want."

"Hmph, stop pretending. That thing is right in your hand." Xiashanhu coldly threatened Chen Zheng: "I advise you: if you wish to live, have those around you live as well—hand it over. With your abilities as Southern Heavenly King, you're not yet worthy to possess it."

Chen Zheng remained silent for a long time, a flicker of hesitation crossing his cold eyes.

The atmosphere stalled thus; though we didn't know what the Northeastern Tiger sought, whatever it was worth his great risk and the deployment of so many resources to seize—it surely wasn't an ordinary item, perhaps priceless, or perhaps possessing terrifying lethal power.

Chen Zheng hesitated, yes, he hesitated.

Though he didn't fear death, he didn't wish to implicate us—Fan Wuchang, Dong Yumin, and the rest—all reasons for Chen Zheng's hesitation.

"……All right…… I'll take you there." After silence, Chen Zheng spoke suddenly.

"No……"

"No……"

"No……"

Three successive "no"s came from three different mouths: first, Chen Zheng's wife Dong Yumin; second, Fan Wuchang; third, Silijing……

"I think we shouldn't yield to villains, especially this man—I find him repulsive at first sight." Silijing helped Pangzi up, casting a disgusted glance at Xiashanhu.

I: "……" That reason is… truly sufficient; what on earth is going through a woman's mind?

When Chen Zheng agreed to Xiashanhu's demand, Fan Wuchang hastily turned, anxiously gazing at Chen Zheng and said: "Elder Brother Zheng, you cannot give him that thing, otherwise sister‑in‑law would……"

Chen Zheng waved his hand: "I've already decided; no need to say more."

Immediately, Chen Zheng faced Xiashanhu calmly: "The item isn't on me; I can go fetch it with you, but only after I see everyone leave safely."

"Hah, refreshing……" Xiashanhu slapped his thigh, laughed wildly, then abruptly grew calm, like June weather—changeable. He cast a gloomy glance over everyone, threatening Chen Zheng with a hint of chill: "I agree to your terms, but you must not play tricks with me. Otherwise, I'll have them all flayed and sinewed one by one."

"You…… you bastard, going too far!" Fan Wuchang seethed, eyes red‑glared, drew his blade to stab Xiashanhu.

With a clatter, all gun barrels pointed at Fan Wuchang. Fan Wuchang is merely human, not a god—especially now, gravely wounded, unable to exert his former strength.

"Heh, I advise you not to act foolish; moreover, the master's flying sword is already enough to hold you off—you still want to fight us? Dream on! What night‑killing god? Pah, you're just this pathetic."

Indeed, that flying sword truly belongs to Xiashanhu's faction.

Xiashanhu's words have completely confirmed my suspicion.

I furtively drew the token from my bosom, pondering a countermeasure, but after long thought I could only let my hand drop helplessly.

I too am human, not a god; though I know a little Dao, I lack confidence to save everyone under so many guns. Unless I could kill them all in an instant, the next second we'd all become hornets' nests.

But this fantasy is as absurd as a fool's dream—raising a hand, stomping a foot, eyes turning to lightning to annihilate foes only happens in movies. Reality remains reality; it won't be so exaggerated as to be impractical.

I sighed secretly in my heart, lowered my head in regret: if only I could usually recruit more troops, now they'd surely be useful.

"Shush……"

Just then I seemed to hear a strange sound, like a snake crawling or an insect chirring; that familiar panic surged unbidden into my heart.

"It feels familiar, yet I can't recall it just now."

"Ah…… what on earth is this disgusting thing!" Silijing pointed fearfully at Xiashanhu's rear, then let out a sharp scream, scrambling to hide behind Pangzi.

I lifted my gaze; the already grieving, numb heart sucked in another breath of cold air.

From the wild grass behind Xiashanhu, countless scarlet‑backed, black‑tailed scorpions crawled out. At the center of the swarm, a wholly crimson scorpion bristling with countless spines stood amid these shoes, flanked by a few ordinary scorpions tightly encircling left and right. Besides its myriad spines, this scorpion's back differed from the ordinary crimson—it shone with an eerie, glossy obsidian hue.

"Iron-backed Thorn Insect!" I and Pangzi exclaimed involuntarily.

We have seen this scorpion in the Poison Gu Record; it is definitely a toxic worm listed therein. Its body is covered with black, vine‑like poisonous spines, each spine made of the legendary crimson feather of the red‑crowned crane.

The red‑crowned crane's crimson is a deadly poison transmitted from antiquity; it is also the legendary bird that feeds on poisons, the nemesis of toxic worms, whose tail feathers carry lethal poison. Ancient lore says the red‑crowned crane toxin is refined from that very tail feather.

Moreover, the original form of the Iron-backed Thorn Insect is the Scorpion King, also called King Scorpion, an atypical scorpion, rare to the point that one might not find a single specimen among ten thousand. When first born, its back is soft and possesses a marsh‑like adhesiveness; if a red‑crowned crane feather is nearby at that time, its back will automatically absorb the feather, integrating it into its body to become protective thorny poison.

Though ancient texts are not widespread, any observant person can see that human intervention must have occurred in this fusion process.

Otherwise, where would so many red‑crowned crane feathers come for the iron‑backed scorpion to absorb?

Moreover, the survival odds of the Iron-backed Thorn Insect are extremely low; it is eroded by countless toxins. Even if a King Scorpion is found, it may not survive the fusion. Besides requiring the red‑crowned crane feather, the King Scorpion must daily devour a toxic worm for nourishment; to claim there is no human involvement in this I absolutely refuse to believe.

Just who possesses such ability! To concoct this lost, eerie poison?

"Worm Master!" I and Pangzi exclaimed in unison, the thought that suddenly struck us.

Indeed, only the Worm Masters—those who walk crooked paths, disregarding cause and effect, ruthless folk—would bother to brew such things.

But…… why would these worms appear here? Could they too be allies of Xiashanhu?

For some reason, I suddenly recalled Ou Yaofeng, that wretch who tried to defile Yao Yirong only to be swallowed whole by his own worm king.

"What worms, scorpions—even if the Heavenly King himself came, he couldn't save you!" Xiashanhu spat curses, foam flying, glanced at everyone's bewildered eyes, then involuntarily turned, puzzled.

The instant he turned, I heard his panicked roar.

"What devilish thing is this? Quick, shoot them with guns, quick, open fire!"

Though I couldn't see Xiashanhu's expression, from the frequency of his speech I could still sense the panic in his tone.

As Xiashanhu gave the order, all gunners immediately turned, resolutely firing at the poisonous worms swarming over the hill.

In an instant, gunfire spread across the small hill; gunners fired without restraint, countless poisonous worms fell, black blood spattering.

Yet this one‑sided slaughter did not mean the gunners had won; they not only failed to win, but became the losers.

Countless scorpions were blasted apart by artillery fire, yet their blood and severed limbs mercilessly snatched a gunner's life.

Gunners sprayed with blood howled, writhing in agony on the ground—either soaked by scorpion blood or splashed by flying limbs.

Even Xiashanhu now covered his eyes, rolling on the ground in pain.

He wasn't splashed by the scorpion's blood, nor did his skin touch the flying severed limbs.

But … he was stabbed in the eye by the feather of that king scorpion, the iron-backed thorn worm.

This is the terror of the iron-backed thorn worm: every one of its thorn spines is a deadly weapon, and moreover, like arrow feathers, they can be shot flying at the enemy. And once a thorn spine touches you, the only outcome is … death beyond death.

The downhill tiger wailed, rolling nonstop on the ground. But in just the span of a breath, suddenly he stopped struggling, and immediately. A purplish-black hue quickly spread over his body, and even on his heavenly spirit cap there rose a pungent, foul green smoke.

This bizarre scene made everyone's scalp go numb; even Chen Zheng, who was accustomed to great winds and waves, his face at this moment was filled with astonishment and disbelief.

"While they're still tangled together, let's hurry and go." Seeing that everyone was still stunned in surprise, Silijing shoved us hard.

Only then did everyone barely regain their senses; I and Silijing helped up the injured Pangzi, Yuan Qiu supported Fan Wuchang, and we quickly fled in the opposite direction.

But at that moment, the flying sword that had been hovering in midair silently and without sound launched an attack from behind us.

Everyone was focused on fleeing, and no one noticed that flash of cold light.

------------。