Chapter Forty-One: The Stone of Nine Dragons

Dozens of cultivators, laughing madly, tore at their own clothes as they charged toward the arena. Jinghui struggled to hold them back. As the disciple of Gui Duzi, he knew these cultivators’ identities all too well. Because of their status, he dared not use excessive force, which meant that those he knocked down would leap up and join the fray again as soon as they landed. Meanwhile, his own disciple, Qingling, was also clawing at her clothes, shouting incessantly, “Hot! So hot!” Faced with this, he had no choice but to admit defeat to Lei Yan; if he waited any longer, Qingling would soon strip herself completely.

Upon hearing Jinghui concede, Lei Yan rushed forward. At that moment, a cultivator clad in nothing but a few rags blocked his way. Lei Yan had no idea who these people were and had no qualms about acting; he struck hard at the man’s back. The cultivator, entirely fixated on the half-clad Qingling ahead, didn’t notice the attack coming.

With a dull thud, the ragged cultivator shuddered as if struck by lightning, then collapsed in a heap, convulsing on the ground. Even so, his hands still reached longingly toward Qingling, his gaze fixed on her with bitter regret as blood welled from his lips. Lei Yan’s strike, seemingly simple, was anything but; it drew on a technique he’d mastered recently, channeling force through a cultivator’s own energy directly into their internal organs. His attack was partly an experiment to see if this method worked on cultivators—clearly, it did.

Without giving the convulsing man so much as a glance, Lei Yan strode toward Qingling, felling all who stood in his way. In a flash, only three or four of the dozens remained standing.

Lei Yan’s uninhibited assault left Gui Duzi in a difficult position. His face darkened as he barked, “Don’t use lethal force!” Preparing to intervene, he was blocked by a burly man at Yuan He’s side. The brute, seeing his charge felled by Gui Duzi, was driven by some lingering instinct to strike back, swinging a fist at Gui Duzi.

With a cold snort, Gui Duzi flicked his finger. A curl of green light wound from his fingertip to meet the punch. At the moment of contact, the burly man was sent flying, smashing into the wall behind.

On the stage, Lei Yan frowned at Gui Duzi’s warning and lightened his blows, knocking aside the last obstacles and grabbing Qingling. In her fevered state, Qingling responded to this ‘invitation’ like dry tinder to flame, clinging to Lei Yan like an octopus, locking her arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely.

The moment their lips met, Lei Yan felt her perfumed tongue slip into his mouth. Though still young, Qingling’s figure was fully developed, her half-revealed curves pressed against his chest, her waist twisting alluringly. Her fragrant tongue, boneless body, and intoxicating scent all assaulted his senses, pushing his desire to the brink. Yet Lei Yan knew Qingling’s state was drug-induced, not of her own will. No matter how fierce his own temptation, he forced himself to resist, pressing her head down and forcing a pill between her lips.

The antidote melted instantly, its essence soothing Qingling’s body like a cool spring. Though it didn’t restore her at once, the accumulating effect would gradually clear her mind. Jinghui, still fending off attackers, saw his disciple take the antidote and sighed in relief.

With a series of thuds, Jinghui blasted aside those in his path and hurried to Qingling’s side, draping his robe over her trembling form. He shot Lei Yan a fierce glare. “You little devil, that was ruthless! Using such a base and shameless poison! Linger is still a girl—how can she face anyone after this?” As he spoke, another cultivator rushed over, only to be sent flying by Jinghui’s palm.

Lei Yan ignored Jinghui, raising his hand to strike Qingling at the nape. Before Jinghui could react, Qingling gave a muffled cry and collapsed.

“What are you doing?” Jinghui caught the falling Qingling, furious.

“Uncle Master, do you want to see her go mad when she wakes?” Lei Yan replied coldly.

He understood his own medicine well: when affected by this poison, one could only watch, powerless to control their own body, yet remember everything clearly once the effect wore off. If he didn’t render Qingling unconscious now, the aftermath would be disastrous.

“You… you…” Jinghui was at a loss, anger and worry warring within him. With a sigh, he gathered Qingling in his arms and called to Gui Duzi, “Master, I’ll take Linger back first!” He leapt into the air, carrying Qingling toward Poison King Valley.

The cultivators on the stage, seeing Qingling carried away, refused to give up and began leaping skyward after her. Yet no matter how they tried, they could no longer take flight as before, merely hopping about the stage like zombies.

Gui Duzi did not stop Jinghui; he understood his feelings. With a leap, Gui Duzi landed on the stage. With a low shout, his energy whirled around his feet like a cyclone, expanding outward.

As soon as the vortex took shape, Lei Yan felt a terrifying suction pulling at him. He braced his legs, shattering the flagstones beneath his feet as he retreated step by step. The other cultivators, powerless to resist, were swept into the vortex.

With another shout, Gui Duzi swept his arms; the vortex shattered, and the suction vanished. Deprived of lift, the cultivators crashed to the stage below.

With a series of heavy thuds and a cloud of dust, the stage was soon blanketed and silent. Not one of the cultivators rose again—Gui Duzi’s anger was clear.

Lei Yan knelt on one knee, awed. This was the first time he had witnessed Gui Duzi’s true strength. That tremendous vortex was formed purely from his internal energy—what cultivation was required to wield such force? Lei Yan could hardly imagine, but his longing for such power was rekindled.

Amidst the settling dust, Lei Yan saw a figure approaching. Gui Duzi stopped beside the kneeling Lei Yan. “You were too reckless this time,” he admonished, then sighed, “But this can’t be blamed on you alone. I share responsibility. Your master is gone, and I never told you these things.”

“Grandmaster, what things? Is it very serious?” Lei Yan asked, curiosity piqued.

“You’ve won the contest, so you are now the next head of Ghost Poison Sect. There are things you should know—come with me to the secret chamber.” Gui Duzi started away, then paused. He still could not identify the poison Lei Yan had used and did not believe it an ordinary aphrodisiac. “Will they be all right?” he asked.

“If I had true fire within me, they’d be dead within the hour. With mere mortal fire, if they don’t get the antidote, they’ll lose their cultivation at the very least. Of course, that’s if they manage to vent their madness. If not, this poison alone could kill them,” Lei Yan replied ruefully. “If I could refine these pills with true fire, it’d be fatal even if they vented, but my body just can’t handle it.”

“Give them the antidote,” Gui Duzi ordered, frowning in distaste at such poisons.

Lei Yan nodded; he’d never intended to kill these cultivators. Making enemies of so many was unwise. He hurried over and administered the antidote to each one.

“Leave them. Let’s go,” Gui Duzi called once Lei Yan finished.

Lei Yan followed him into a secret chamber he had never seen before. The room was simple: two greenish-yellow meditation cushions side by side at the center, a long stone table before them bearing a lamp and several booklets, and above, a five-foot-long ink painting of a white-haired, youthful-faced elder with a sword on his back, his piercing gaze fixed on the chamber’s entrance.

“That’s your grand-ancestor. Bow to him,” Gui Duzi instructed.

Lei Yan knelt on the cushion and knocked his head three times before the portrait. Gui Duzi paid his own respects, then walked to the right wall, tapping it in several places. With a grinding sound, a stone drawer slid out. Gui Duzi retrieved a brocade box from within.

“Lei Yan, from this day forth, you are the head of Ghost Poison Sect,” Gui Duzi declared, handing him the box. “Open it.”

Lei Yan examined the box. It was an ordinary brocade case, about a foot long, similar to the one he’d obtained from Hongyuan Security Agency. A sudden thought struck him—could it be those spheres? Eager, he opened the box. With a burst of light, three spheres appeared: the Li, Zhen, and Gen spheres.

He was too excited for words, knowing that when all eight were gathered, their inscriptions would be revealed.

Gui Duzi smiled at Lei Yan’s reaction—it was just how he himself had felt years ago. What he didn’t know was that Lei Yan already possessed five of these spheres and was unfamiliar with their full significance.

“The Nine Dragon Stones—objects coveted by all cultivators under heaven,” Gui Duzi intoned solemnly.

“Nine Dragon Stones? These are the Nine Dragon Stones?” Lei Yan was stunned; the hope he’d long pursued was suddenly within reach.

“You didn’t know?” Gui Duzi was surprised, but quickly realized Lei Yan was young and new to the sect; his master must not have told him. “Then why are you so excited?”

“My master told me the Nine Dragon Stones could cure my withered meridians! Is it true, Grandmaster?” Lei Yan could scarcely believe it.

“Withered meridians can only be healed by remolding them completely. Even the Nine Dragon Stones can’t do it alone. But gathering all eight stones makes the process far more effective. Even a lowly cultivator can help remold another’s meridians with their power—but only if all eight are found,” Gui Duzi explained.

“All eight? I have five more—that makes eight together! Grandmaster, I happened upon five other Nine Dragon Stones—can you help me remold my meridians?”

“You have the remaining five?” Gui Duzi was moved, urging, “Quickly, let me see them!”

Lei Yan retrieved the five spheres from his artifact, placing the broken orbs on the ground before Gui Duzi.

“How could this be…” Gui Duzi cradled the shattered spheres in disbelief. Their energy was spent, but with his familiarity, he recognized them at once as genuine Nine Dragon Stones.