Chen Sanshi wrapped his face in a black cloth, a long spear and bow slung across his back. He dashed through the darkness like a gust of wind, heading straight for Second Mountain at full speed.
The night was pitch-black, the wind sharp, and the moon hidden behind thick clouds.
He crouched in a deep valley, surrounded only by the rustle of nocturnal animals. The silence was oppressive.
Only in the direction of Medicine Valley flickered faint orange light.
At the entrance, several disciples from the Tianyuan Martial Hall stood guard, their silhouettes illuminated faintly by torches.
"If there's nothing shady going on inside, I'll eat my bow," Chen Sanshi muttered.
He slipped quietly into the nearby woods.
With [Tracking and Hiding] active, even in this pitch-black night where one could barely see a hand in front of the face, he could still perceive every faint movement around him.
Before long, he found a rugged mountain trail—narrow, twisting, and perfect for sneaking closer without being seen.
He climbed up a sturdy tree overlooking the side of the valley and observed silently.
It was a real medicinal garden—no disguise. Rows upon rows of herbs filled the valley floor, all neatly tended.
"Hmm… I'll pack them up later," he murmured to himself. "Should've brought a sack. Every leaf here is silver."
The sight made even him envious.
Even after how much Xiang Tingchun had been bleeding the garrison dry, the martial halls were still filthy rich.
"First, business."
Chen Sanshi counted carefully.
There were seven or eight disciples guarding different entrances to the valley—fortunately spread out, making them easy targets.
He reached for his quiver and pulled out a set of Qi Mei Needle Arrows—flat-headed, narrow-tipped arrows known for their deep penetration and near-silent lethality.
"Working overtime this late, huh? Poor souls. Go get some rest."
"Whoosh—"
"Whoosh—"
In less than thirty seconds, all eight guards collapsed soundlessly, falling where they stood without a single cry.
With the path clear, Chen Sanshi slipped into the valley.
At the far end, he found the source of the flickering light.
Hidden deep in the forest was a courtyard, freshly built—judging by the clean wood and undisturbed roof tiles, it couldn't have been standing for more than a few months.
Then—
"Ah…"
A weak, hoarse cry came from inside.
Chen Sanshi's expression hardened. He crept closer, stopping beneath the eaves, his breathing shallow.
…
Inside the courtyard, what should have been the main hall was bare. No furniture—just a single flickering candle, its flame throwing trembling shadows across the walls.
In one corner, an old gray-haired apothecary was grinding herbs in a stone mortar, his movements steady and methodical.
Beside him lay bundles of herbs—and a freshly cut heap of Spiritual Grain (ling he), stalks gleaming faintly under the candlelight.
Nearby, Liang Zhan was practicing his sword, blade flashing in the dim light like streaks of silver lightning.
He moved tirelessly until his breath came in gasps, sweat dripping from his chin.
Finally, exhausted, he stopped.
At that moment, an old servant dragged in a man from the adjoining room—his wrists and ankles bound tightly with thick rope.
The man wore coarse hemp clothes, his build strong, but his face was ghostly pale. Dark purple veins bulged across his neck like wriggling worms, and black blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.
His body twitched uncontrollably, low muffled groans spilling from his throat.
"Wuu… wuuu…"
He coughed again, spitting out another mouthful of dark, viscous blood.
"What the hell are they doing?"
From the rooftop, Chen Sanshi peered through the lifted tiles, his eyes narrowing.
Poisoned?
Why would a martial hall capture someone just to poison them? Were they testing medicine?
He scanned the room carefully—then his gaze froze.
By the grinding table… lay Spiritual Grain.
His pupils shrank instantly.
He couldn't mistake it. The fields surrounding the garrison were full of this very crop.
He knew this plant all too well.
In the 21st year of the Longqing Era, the old emperor had proclaimed he'd received a divine revelation in a dream—an immortal bestowing a sacred gift.
When he awoke, he issued an imperial edict ordering one-tenth of all farmland in the Great Sheng Dynasty to be converted to cultivating this single crop—Spiritual Grain.
But this so-called immortal grass was, in truth, nothing more than a deadly poison.
Anyone who ate it would die on the spot—no cure, no saving.
The symptoms matched exactly what Chen Sanshi saw before him: blackened veins, bleeding from the seven orifices.
The martial hall had captured a living man… to feed him Spiritual Grain?
For what purpose?
Chen Sanshi held his breath and continued watching from the shadows.
After several minutes, the bound man's convulsions worsened. Black blood began to seep from his eyes, ears, and nose until he finally went still.
Dead.
The Liang family's old servant, who had been waiting nearby, took out a short dagger. He squatted down and slit open the man's abdomen with a clean motion.
His withered hands rummaged through the bloody mess until he pulled out a small, jet-black pill, which he handed carefully to the gray-haired apothecary grinding herbs in the corner.
"The poison's been filtered out. Young Master, it's safe to consume."
The old apothecary, Li Yaoshi, checked the pill, nodded, and presented it with both hands.
Without hesitation, Liang Zhan took the still-warm, blood-slick pill and swallowed it whole.
"Hiss—!"
The instant it slid down his throat, his body shuddered violently. His face twisted in agony as he hastily rooted his feet, stabilizing his stance and circulating his breathing method to suppress the violent reaction inside.
"Brilliant! What a genius!"
Feeling the surge of medicinal power coursing through his body, Liang Zhan couldn't help exclaiming, "Pan Quan is a genius! How did he even come up with this—using live people to filter out the toxins?
"With just ten people, the poison can be removed by over ninety percent!
"One pill holds the potency of medicine worth a hundred taels of silver!"
He laughed hoarsely, eyes gleaming. "And this is just a crude method. To truly bring out the power of Spiritual Grain, one must use an immortal treasure!
"Unfortunately, Xiang Tingchun is too domineering. Even now, we don't know what that so-called immortal treasure actually is!"
"Yes."
The old servant sighed. "And Poyang's been restless lately. Even Grand Commander Sun's own daughter has come here. I heard she's investigating this matter too. None of the martial halls dare to keep abducting people.
"The one we used just now—that was the last. There won't be any more."
"I'm still too lacking in talent," Liang Zhan muttered with frustration. "Even with Spiritual Grain, I've only brought my tempering bone technique to the level of mastery. I'm still far from minor achievement.
"I really envy that brat Chen Sanshi. Only two months of training, and he's already reached major achievement in tempering blood!"
He clenched his fists. "To think Old Song met such a miserable end—just because his disciple offended him!
"And that Qin Feng, he once tried to take his life! Do you think Chen Sanshi will ever let me go after that?"
The thought alone made his face pale. "We'd better pressure Prefect Ji Guangxian. Chen Sanshi must be eliminated before he completes tempering bone. At the very least, he needs to be driven out of Poyang County."
"Bang—!"
Before the words even left his lips, a sharp crack echoed—like bones shattering.
A streak of black lightning tore through the air and struck the old servant square on the skull. His head burst open like a melon, his body dropping lifeless to the floor.
"Wu Bo?!"
Before Liang Zhan could react, another bolt of black lightning came crashing down—
"Boom!"
It pierced straight through his shoulder, nailing him to the wall behind. The impact was so violent that his body convulsed, his bones splintering under the force.
The apothecary, Li Yaoshi, didn't escape either. The same black flash slammed into his thigh, shattering it completely as he screamed in agony.
It all happened in the blink of an eye—barely two or three seconds.
Only then did Liang Zhan realize—
There was no lightning.
The black streak impaled through him was an armor-piercing arrow!
What kind of bow could shoot with such terrifying power?!
He was a tempering bone martial artist, yet even his reinforced bones couldn't withstand a single shot!
"Boom—!"
Another deafening crash came from above. Roof tiles shattered, scattering like rain as a massive hole burst open in the ceiling.
A figure dropped through the opening, bow in hand, a long spear strapped across his back.
"Good… very good. So you really were plotting against me!"
Chen Sanshi's cold voice cut through the air like steel.