Chapter 83: From This Moment On, I Am the Master of the Myriad Venoms Sect

(1/3)

Smack! Jin’er instinctively dropped the box in her hand, her right hand darting to catch the black shadow. Yet she was a heartbeat too slow; the dark shape had already slipped into her sleeve.

A moment later, Jin’er frowned as a sharp pain spread from her wrist, creeping upward for a short distance before slowly fading away.

“Jin’er!” Qingyue grabbed her hand, anxiously lifting her sleeve to search for whatever had entered.

Jin’er stopped him with a raised hand, offering a calm smile. “It’s nothing. Let’s find the item first.” With that, she turned and picked up the box, now half-open from its fall.

Qingyue was still worried, but seeing her composed, he had no choice but to suppress his concern and do as she said.

“Found it.” Jin’er opened the box, gazing at the tome of Ten Thousand Poisons and more than a dozen bottles of pills inside. Relief softened her delicate features, and Qingyue quickly leaned in to look as well.

She glanced through the book of poisons, then tucked it into her robe. Picking up each bottle in turn, her brows furrowed. “But… there’s no complete antidote to the Soul-Binding Powder—these only suppress the poison. It seems he never intended to save anyone.”

“That old fiend!” Qingyue muttered angrily.

Jin’er turned to him, and, to her surprise, even in anger his beauty was undiminished. She couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

“Jin’er?” Qingyue called, puzzled as she stared at him in a daze.

Snapping out of it, her cheeks flushed slightly. She chided herself for her lovesick folly.

“Well… don’t worry. He may not have the antidote, but I do. I just didn’t bring it with me; we’ll have to go back for it.” She finished, glancing up to find him gazing intently at her, making her a little uneasy. “Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t you believe me?”

At that, Qingyue smiled, lips pressed, and shook his head without speaking.

Jin’er grew more uncomfortable. “What are you laughing at?”

Please, could he not smile so beautifully? Her heart was already in turmoil.

“It’s nothing, really. I was just curious why you suddenly blushed.”

“Huh?” Jin’er quickly touched her warm cheeks, while Qingyue simply smiled and turned away.

Feeling her face grow hotter, Jin’er wished she could disappear into a hole. How embarrassing—to be caught so obviously lovestruck…

They left the Poison Sage’s chamber, one after the other, and returned to Jin’er’s room.

“Jin’er, that thing that jumped out of the box earlier…” As soon as they entered, Qingyue eyed her left hand, frowning with concern.

“Should I deal with it now, just to be safe?” Jin’er asked.

“No, I’m not reassured.”

Seeing his stubborn insistence, Jin’er frowned slightly but said nothing more. She set the box from the secret room on the table, then drew a sharp dagger from her bundle.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, seeing the worry and resolve in his eyes made her reluctant to refuse him. Besides, this was the first time she didn’t care if someone saw her scars.

Thinking thus, she held the dagger’s tip over the oil lamp’s flame for a while, then sat at the table, rolling up her left sleeve to bare her fair, delicate arm.

“What are you doing?” Qingyue asked, uneasy.

“Help me untie this,” Jin’er said quietly, pointing to the tightly wound scarf at her wrist.

Qingyue nodded and sat beside her, carefully unwrapping the scarf.

When the scarf was removed, revealing the hideous scar, Qingyue was taken aback.

Jin’er looked up, searching his gaze—but instead of revulsion, she found only astonishment and pity.

Pity? Was he feeling sorry for her? But they’d only known each other for less than a day.

Perhaps, she thought, some people don’t need long to form a bond—just as she had let down her guard for him so quickly.

As Qingyue lifted his head, Jin’er quickly dropped her gaze, afraid he’d see into her thoughts.

She didn’t answer his question; instead, she examined her wrist. Spotting a tiny black dot, she picked up the dagger and, biting her lip, cut deeply.

The keen blade sliced through flesh with a faint sound, and blood welled up instantly. Qingyue’s heart clenched; he turned away, unable to watch.

It wasn’t that he was squeamish or feared blood—he was trained in martial arts and had seen his share of violence—but watching her cut herself, he felt an ache in his heart, sharp and unbearable.

What kind of girl was she, so young and yet so brave and resolute?

“Help me,” Jin’er gritted out through the pain.

Qingyue turned back at once. Seeing her face bathed in cold sweat, brows tightly knit, he looked at her wrist and saw her using the knife to pick at a black fragment embedded in the flesh.

“Pull it out for me,” she gasped, her breath unsteady, hand trembling from the pain.

Qingyue hesitated, staring at the black object, his spine prickling. But Jin’er was stoically enduring agony, waiting for him—he couldn’t falter.

He steeled himself, grasped the soft yet resilient thing, and pulled it from Jin’er’s wound.

Seeing the filthy, finger-length black creature, Qingyue recoiled in horror, tossing it onto the table, his expression oddly reminiscent of a frightened noble lady.

Despite her pallor, Jin’er managed a faint smile at his theatrical reaction, but said nothing. She set down the knife and took out a bottle of healing powder, sprinkling it over her wound.

“I’ll bandage it for you.” Flushing slightly, Qingyue picked up a nearby scarf and wrapped her wrist, lowering his head to hide his embarrassment.

Jin’er couldn’t help but smile at his blushing, handsome face. He seemed to blush easily—she’d seen it several times tonight. Truly, an endearing man.

“What was that thing?” Qingyue asked, his expression still uneasy, glancing at the black strip on the table.

It looked like a worm of some sort. He had always disliked such creatures, especially the soft, crawling kind—he could hardly bear to touch them.

“A Heart-Eater—a rare parasite. It burrows swiftly into the body, heading straight for the heart. Its victim soon bleeds from every orifice and dies in agony,” Jin’er explained, frowning at the loathsome thing.

It was her first time seeing one. She’d only heard of it from Snow Aunt, never expecting to encounter it here. If not for her unique constitution, any ordinary person opening that box would have died on the spot.

Fortunately, she’d been alert enough to stop Qingyue.

“Good heavens, that’s terrifying,” Qingyue shuddered, still shaken. Thank goodness Jin’er had intervened, or the consequences would have been dire…

“But how are you unharmed? And what happened to it?” Qingyue asked after a moment, confused.

(2/3)

Jin’er smiled triumphantly, raising an eyebrow. “Because—I am its nemesis.”

“Nemesis?” Qingyue still looked baffled, waiting for her to explain.

Unable to resist the allure in his eyes, Jin’er took a deep breath. “My blood is poisonous.”

Qingyue stared at her, lips parted in disbelief.

Seeing him so stunned, Jin’er sighed. “Don’t ask me why. I don’t want to remember.”

Qingyue was startled again, but this time he quickly composed himself, nodding slightly, his eyes clouded with worry and pity.

“All right, let’s talk about what we need to do next,” Jin’er said seriously, then shared her thoughts with Qingyue.

After pondering a moment, Qingyue nodded. “If you’ve made up your mind, I support you.”

From the moment she shielded him from the Heart-Eater, he had come to trust her completely. Whether or not she could cure him, whatever decision she made, he would support her with all his strength.

Two hours later, the practice ground of the Hall of Ten Thousand Poisons was packed with disciples, encircling the central platform. More continued to arrive.

On the platform, Jin’er sat composed in a grand chair, sipping hot tea. Beneath her feet lay the Poison Sage’s stiff corpse, now serving as her footrest.

Her breathtaking beauty was tinged with a pride and resolve not to be underestimated.

At her side stood a figure in white, hair flowing like ink, as graceful as a flower and gentle as the moon—Qingyue, the renowned dancer of the Golden Kingdom.

No one would have imagined that these two, seemingly delicate beauties, had slain the infamous, ruthless master of the Hall in a single night.

“How dare you, girl! Show some respect to our master! Who are you? State your name!” Several of the Poison Sage’s disciples shouted from the front row, their voices harsh.

Though they appeared furious, none dared rush forward.

From the corpse’s purplish face, it was obvious the master had been poisoned before being slain. For the Poison Sage to die by poison was almost unbelievable—his killer must have surpassed him in the deadly arts.

“From this moment, I am the master of the Hall of Ten Thousand Poisons,” Jin’er declared proudly, her voice calm yet carrying to every ear.

A wave of uproar swept through the crowd—shock, disdain, laughter, suspicion—voices rose in a cacophony, filling the mountain stronghold with tumult.

“Hah! You snot-nosed brat! You?” The disciples could bear it no longer, seeing her not only kill their master but covet his place.

One leapt onto the stage, and the crowd fell silent.

“Who are you?” Jin’er asked coolly.

“I am He Kun, the master’s chief disciple and chief steward of the Hall!” The man lifted his chin, looking at her with scorn.

Jin’er nodded, rising slowly. “So, you didn’t rush out to avenge your master, but now that I claim the seat, you’re anxious?”

He was momentarily stunned by her innocent smile, then snapped, “Nonsense! You must have seduced my master to his death! I’ll avenge him!” With that, he drew his sword and charged.

“Let me borrow your sword,” Jin’er said, snatching Qingyue’s weapon before the words had faded. At the same time, she flung her teacup at He Kun.

He sneered, sweeping the cup aside with a sleeve, and met Jin’er’s charge with his blade.

A flurry of ringing steel followed, the crowd watching with bated breath.

Though He Kun was not the Hall’s greatest fighter, his skills were formidable. Yet the slender girl before him was unscathed—she clearly had some real ability.

But… their Hall was famous for poison, not swordsmanship.

Suddenly, after deflecting Jin’er’s strike, He Kun flicked his sleeve, sending a cloud of white smoke at her.

“Jin’er, look out!” Qingyue cried.

But Jin’er didn’t dodge; she strode straight into the smoke, face unchanged, and thrust her sword at the now complacent He Kun.

A gasp rippled through the audience. Some were gleeful, others shocked, some already mocking her impending demise. Yet, the next instant, all were stunned.

The smoke had not yet cleared. He Kun stood frozen, eyes wide with shock and unwillingness.

Behind him, the beautiful, petite Jin’er was unruffled. Her sword had pierced his chest, blood dripping down the blade.

A hush fell over the square; none dared breathe. Qingyue, though relieved, was also shocked—how could she be immune to the poison? He didn’t know what toxin He Kun had used, but anything employed by the Hall was deadly.

“My blood is poisonous.” Jin’er’s earlier words echoed in his mind, and at last, Qingyue understood.

Poisonous blood? Was she immune to all toxins? Who was she, truly?

A breeze stirred, blowing the lingering smoke toward Jin’er. She smiled, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply, as if savoring a treat.

Snow Aunt had once told her she was now immune to all poisons—she need fear nothing. Continued exposure would only intensify the potency of her blood. Poisons were now like tonic to her.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then the square erupted.

“Senior Brother!” the disciples cried, shocked and furious, but most began to talk excitedly.

“That didn’t affect her at all! What’s going on?”

“She killed the Poison Sage, now she’s immune to ‘One Step Down’—she must be a master from beyond the world!”

“Yes, a master indeed!”

Jin’er ignored the commotion, withdrawing her sword with a flick, blood spattering her white, lovely face.

Her long lashes quivered, a flicker of unease in her eyes—but it passed quickly.

Not fear, not really; if anything, she felt a thrill, a tense exhilaration, a sense of not yet being accustomed.

(3/3)

The first time—this was the first life she had ever taken by her own hand, the first time she held power over life and death, the first taste of standing above others.

She liked it—she liked it far too much! She wanted to laugh out loud.

“Make way!” A sudden roar came from the crowd, which parted at once, all eyes turning toward the newcomers.

It was the three stewards who had brought Qingyue back the previous day, along with their attendants.

They had been resting in the guest quarters, set to return to their branches today, but were roused by the chaos outside and, upon inquiry, learned their master was dead.

Unthinkable! With the master slain, what should they do? Though they had long hated the Poison Sage, now that he was gone, who would cure their poison?

“Steward Bai, you’re just in time! This girl is too arrogant!” a man in blue greeted the three, his face twisted with rage.

The stewards ignored him, leaping onto the platform with grim expressions.

They glared at Jin’er, sizing her up, unable to believe such a young girl could have such power were it not for what they’d just witnessed.

“Truly, the young are to be feared. But girl, even if you did kill the master, do you think you can leave here alive?” said Steward Bai coldly.

“Indeed! You want to be master? Hah! What a joke!” another laughed angrily.

“Enough talk! If we don’t kill her, how can we ease our hatred?” roared Steward Hong, eyes red with fury, drawing his sword to attack.

Jin’er laughed lightly, sweeping her gaze over the three. “You ought to thank me. If not for him, you wouldn’t be slaves to Soul-Binding Powder. Killing him is as much vengeance for you as anything.”

The three stewards’ faces changed, jaws clenched.

“Save your clever words! By killing him, you’ve cut off our only hope! If we’re doomed anyway, we’ll tear you to pieces!” Steward Hong lunged, but Steward Bai stopped him.

Hong glared at his companion, ready to explode, but Jin’er only smiled coldly. “I understand your suffering—I too have been tortured by Soul-Binding Powder… worse than death!” The last words she spat out, remembering the agony all too clearly.

The crowd was stunned, eyes filled with doubt. The master had always used the poison to control or obtain someone; but wasn’t this girl only brought here the day before yesterday? And the master had seemed to treat her well.

The three stewards frowned, uncertain if she spoke the truth.

Before they could speak, Jin’er dropped her smile, inhaled deeply, and continued, “Now you have two choices: kill me and await your own deaths, or submit to me and I will cure you completely.”

The three stewards were visibly shaken, excitement and doubt warring in their eyes. The crowd erupted.

“Could it be… she really got the Book of Ten Thousand Poisons?” one disciple whispered in shock.

The others were equally astounded. They’d only ever heard of the book; the master had said only his successor would obtain it, and none had even seen it.

Jin’er shot them a sidelong glance. “Yes, the book is with me. But even without it, I can still cure Soul-Binding Powder. So? Will you kill me for your ‘beloved’ master, or submit and continue to serve?”

She turned to the stewards, their faces conflicted.

They exchanged glances, silently weighing their options. After all, the worst outcome was death—might as well bet on her.

At last, the three knelt on one knee, declaring in unison, “We greet the new master!”

The crowd was in uproar. No one had expected the three stewards to truly yield to such a young girl. Some were shocked, others admired Jin’er’s courage and presence, and still others were simply entranced by her ethereal beauty.

“Second Brother, word just came—a secret room was found in the master’s chamber. Looks like she really did get the book!” a young man in blue whispered.

His companions’ faces all changed, falling into heavy silence.

Meanwhile, the three stewards had moved to Jin’er’s side, standing protectively with solemn faces, guardians to their new master.

The sudden shift left the rest of the crowd bewildered.

Truth be told, they had only ever feared the previous master. One careless word, one ill-timed encounter, could mean death—especially in recent years, as his temper grew more erratic and deadly.

Now that the stewards had accepted her, what reason was there to resist?

“What about you?” Jin’er addressed the elegantly dressed disciples, her tone cool. “I’d advise you not to covet the Book of Ten Thousand Poisons. I’m not foolish enough to let you benefit. Kill me, and you’ll never have it. Besides, if you try, you’ll end up like your chief.”

She saw their expressions change and pressed her advantage. “But let me say this: if one day I tire of this position, I’ll pass it to one of you, along with the book. Think carefully.”

She was not yet strong enough to fight them all, so she used the book as leverage.

Their brows lifted, eyes flickering with calculation.

Jin’er chuckled inwardly. Threats and promises—she doubted they could resist.

Sure enough, after a moment, they too knelt, bowing to their new master.

With the major figures now yielded, the rest of the disciples followed suit, voices rising in chorus.

“We greet the master!”

“We greet the master!”

The call echoed across the square, powerful and grand.

Standing amidst the kneeling disciples, Jin’er held her head high, lips curling in a brilliant smile, eyes shining with excitement. Her slender hand clenched tightly beneath her sleeve, her hair and robes billowing in the wind—utterly captivating.

Qingyue gazed at her in awe, heart pounding with inexplicable emotion.