Chapter Twenty-Four: The Cruelty of Castration

The Torture of Castration

“Benefactor, what do you intend to do with these people?” Li Ruolan asked Wu Hong quietly from the side.

“Ruolan, is the San Corpse Powder really as deadly as they say? Can even a master at the peak of the Post-Heaven stage be poisoned by it?” Wu Hong did not answer her question, but instead asked another.

Li Ruolan, though unaware of the grudges between Wu Hong and the others, answered honestly, “San Corpse Powder is my master, the Elder of Ten Thousand Poisons’, exclusive poison! It is exactly as they described.”

Her words, mentioning her own master, left the attendants gasping in astonishment.

“So the boss is actually the disciple of the number one poison expert in the martial world, the Elder of Ten Thousand Poisons. No wonder she’s so formidable!” a few whispered to each other.

“Wait, is there really such a deadly poison? And it’s your master’s own creation?” Wu Hong stared at Li Ruolan in disbelief.

“Benefactor, you might not know. My master took only two disciples in his lifetime. I am his second. If Madame Zhao uses San Corpse Powder, then she must be my senior apprentice-sister whom I’ve never met.”

Wu Hong was shocked, but had no reason to doubt her. His heart was in turmoil; at first, he suspected his father might still be alive, but seeing the solemnity in Li Ruolan’s expression, he realized just how lethal the San Corpse Powder was.

“In truth, San Corpse Powder is made through a special method, cultivated from three types of corpse worms that thrive on devouring decaying flesh. Once ingested, the eggs travel through the bloodstream and settle in the brain, where they grow ferociously. No matter how profound your cultivation, the brain is a human’s vital point—there is no escaping death,” Li Ruolan explained softly, her words sending chills down the spines of Wu Hong and all the attendants. Such a terrifying poison!

“Moreover,” she continued, “the three kinds of worms within the powder feed especially on the true energy within martial artists, particularly those who have achieved great strength in physical cultivation. To survive, one either needs my master to concoct the antidote himself, or have cultivation reach the legendary Innate stage.”

After hearing Li Ruolan’s brief account of San Corpse Powder, Wu Hong exhaled heavily. It seemed his father truly was dead—he did not believe his father had ever reached the legendary realm.

Among most martial artists, the stages of body cultivation are classified as: Tempering Flesh, Tempering Tendons, Tempering Blood, Tempering Bone, Tempering Marrow—all collectively called the Post-Heaven realm. If someone perfected the Post-Heaven stage, they would even have tempered the brain, the most difficult area of the human body.

King Wu Wei, with his consummate mastery of the Post-Heaven realm, was unmatched; this explained why he did not die immediately after ingesting the San Corpse Powder.

“Ruolan, I must go to Mount Wuyi. How will you arrange things here?” Wu Hong finally spoke after a long silence.

In truth, to Wu Hong, the secret manual he cultivated was far less important than the Mirror of Rebirth mentioned by Wu Songran and the others. He wanted to use the Mirror of Rebirth to see for himself whether his father was truly dead or alive, and who was responsible for his murder—at the very least, to know whom he should seek vengeance against.

“So we part ways here?” Li Ruolan murmured to herself, reluctant to see Wu Hong leave. She rummaged through her satchel, produced a leather pouch, and handed it to him. “Benefactor, these are detoxification pills. Aside from my master’s San Corpse Powder, they should be effective against all other poisons.”

Her arms, pale and smooth as white jade, trembled slightly as she held out the medicine.

“Thank you,” Wu Hong replied calmly after a moment. In this situation, any flowery words of gratitude felt empty and powerless. Yet once again, Li Ruolan had offered him immense help. Without her poisons, Wu Songran and the others would have been far more difficult to deal with.

“Sir, what do we do with those few?” Old Liu interjected.

Wu Hong frowned slightly. “Don’t harm them. Ruolan, I’ve dragged you all into this after all. Go hide in the mountains for now. As for those people, though they seek vengeance, they do not deserve death. Let them go.”

He spoke apologetically to Li Ruolan.

“Nonsense, sir! Once you leave, we’ll head for the mountains as well. Those few will awaken within a day; I doubt they’ll come to any harm,” Li Ruolan replied, her gaze never leaving Wu Hong.

Wu Hong was neither handsome nor robust, his body gaunt and face sallow as a sickly ghost. Yet, for reasons she could not explain, Li Ruolan often found herself captivated by him.

Wu Hong, embarrassed under her gaze, turned away. “Ruolan, there’s no time to lose. I must go now.”

Li Ruolan did not try to stop him; after all, the Mirror of Rebirth concerned the truth behind a grave injustice.

With no baggage to carry, Wu Hong took only a few coins and headed out the door.

Li Ruolan and all the attendants saw him off for a great distance before turning back.

“Boss, are we really just going to do as Young Master Wu says and let those people go?” Old Liu asked Li Ruolan, watching Wu Hong’s figure recede into the distance.

Her expression instantly grew cold. “Give them special treatment. Take care of Wang Liang’s lower half; as for that young woman, she’s the benefactor’s sister, so leave her be.”

Old Liu and the others shivered at her words. Li Ruolan had been gentle for days, making them forget she was once a ruthless leader. Life had been peaceful lately, but Wu Hong’s departure brought back her old self.

With wicked grins, Old Liu and a few attendants returned to the thatched inn, drew out specialized knives, and pulled down the pants of the men lying on the ground.

“Ah, it’s been a long time since we did this. Are we really not overstepping?” Second Son muttered, but his skilled hands betrayed no hesitation as he wielded the castration knife.

“Don’t talk nonsense. We’re just following orders; it’s got nothing to do with us. I haven’t even taken a wife yet! If you say another word, I’ll cut your tongue out,” Old Liu snapped, though his knife did not slow in the slightest.

Their technique was swift and practiced—within moments, each man was castrated, their wounds bandaged and doused with Li Ruolan’s special healing powder, then their pants pulled back up.

Pity those famous young lords from the capital—some had seduced countless women, some were fiercely violent, others possessed extraordinary martial skills. Yet here in this remote desert, they were rendered forever childless, all without the slightest awareness of what was happening. Who knew what they would do upon waking?

Li Ruolan had only ordered the castration of Wang Liang, but in a moment of spite, the men castrated all four. As for Wu Songran and her group, they didn’t dare lay a finger on her.

Night descended, and for once, the desert was eerily calm, free of wind or sand. The thatched inn by the creek stood in unnatural silence.

Wang Liang, who had eaten the least during the day after an argument with Second Son, and whose cultivation was not insignificant, was the first to awaken.

Moonlight spilled into the inn. Wang Liang, seeing only his companions, felt reassured—surely the bandits knew their status and had not harmed them.

He glanced at the still-sleeping Wu Songran, moonlight glimmering on her pale arms, and a wicked thought crept into his mind. “Heh, at this rate, the others won’t wake for hours yet. I only ate a water shrimp at lunch, but the others took in more poison. Miss Wu, tonight you’ll finally lie in my arms, ha ha…”

“Miss Songran, wake up! Wake up…” Wang Liang’s hand shook as he called out, but she remained unresponsive. Emboldened, he pinched her arm hard—still no reaction.

“Ha! Should I thank Wu Hong, the noble young master, or hate him for delivering his sister right into my hands?” Wang Liang’s gaze lingered on Wu Songran’s delicate figure, desire flaring within him.

“Hmph, since you hate your brother so much, why not hate him to the end?” Wang Liang tossed a strip torn from Wu Hong’s clothing beside her, then eagerly began to undress her.

He stripped off his own clothes as well. But when he removed his pants, he froze in shock—his lower parts were tightly wrapped in white gauze, a numb sensation spreading.

With a ripping sound, Wang Liang tore off the gauze, staring in horror. For over ten minutes, he sat stupefied, then let out a bloodcurdling scream, “No! How could this happen?”

Like a madman, Wang Liang began smashing everything around him, no longer caring about Wu Songran lying nearby.

Then, falling into a sudden quiet, he crouched alone in a corner, hugging his knees, forgetting even to put his clothes back on.

Over an hour later, the other men in the inn began to wake. Seeing Wang Liang huddled in the corner, staring blankly, and catching a glimpse of his flattened groin, they too erupted in agonized screams.