Chapter Seventy-Two: Outburst

Licking his lips, Hu San pulled a porcelain bottle from his breast and divided the clear liquid inside into several portions, sprinkling them into the wine jars. This was the stone venom obtained from the bandit surnamed Zhong, one of the ten deadliest poisons of the martial world.

He had only enough for a single bottle, so he couldn’t add it to the dishes. But that posed no difficulty for him. He produced a small bowl containing a handful of hard, brown powder. Pinching the powder between his fingers, he dropped it into the dishes one by one, stirring gently; the powder quickly dissolved, disappearing entirely from sight.

Soon, an alluring fragrance wafted from the dishes. “Tsk, tsk. Who would have thought the poisoned organs of the Abyssal Guest would have such a property? Could it be that the deadly poison he took all those years ago had this effect?” Hu San bent down to sniff, unable to keep himself from salivating. The powder had been obtained in the subterranean cave. When he attempted to cremate the Abyssal Guest, he realized the corpse was covered in palm-sized yellow spots, especially clustered in the withered liver.

Hu San reasoned this was the manifestation of the poison. He carefully removed the most affected organs, grinding them into medicinal powder—one of his secret weapons. He had tested its effects before: at first, nothing seemed to happen, but a quarter hour after ingestion—just a tiny bit—would kill even a robust tiger, its body erupting in countless golden spots, as if it had transformed into a leopard.

Back in the kitchen, after discovering the powder’s fragrant effect, Hu San sprinkled some into the wine jars, intensifying the already enticing aroma. The cooks outside exchanged surprised glances, guessing the village chief must be inside to retrieve his private stash of vintage wine.

After a while, Hu San resealed the jars and exited the room, ordering nearby bandits to carry the wine and dishes. To prevent them from sampling the food along the way, he personally escorted them to the elegant pavilion in the rear mountains, though he did not enter himself.

The distance was short, and even the boldest bandit dared not pilfer here, so all the food was delivered. When the bearers returned, Hu San summoned them to the high cliffs, killing each by hand and throwing their bodies over the edge.

He then gathered all the bandits and cooks who knew of the guests to the cliff, eliminating them as well. Thus, everyone aware of the guests’ presence was either dead or gathered in the rear pavilion.

A cruel smile curled his lips as Hu San tossed the corpses into the ravine, then straightened himself and strode toward the Elegant Pavilion.

Inside, the guests had begun to drink heartily and feast on meat. It must be said, the poison from the Abyssal Guest was truly potent; with its addition, both the food and wine reached their peak, reminiscent of the finest royal cuisine. Combined with rustic flavor, the martial guests were tempted beyond measure, praising the cooks and vowing to take some with them when they left.

Amid laughter and merriment, the two chiefs and two commanders of Wolfheart Mountain were astounded, wondering when their cooks had learned such skills.

Yet there was one exception. Amidst the revelry, an old man slowly gnawed on his dry rations.

Ge Xiang drank another cup of fine wine, feeling as if he were soaking in a hot spring, warm and comfortable all over. Seeing the old man’s behavior, he couldn’t help but urge, “Elder Chen, this wine is extraordinary—no doubt the chief’s treasured reserve. If you miss it now, you’ll never have another chance.”

“I know you’re not fond of spirits. How about this: I drink a bowl, you drink a cup?”

As he spoke, the scar-faced commander quickly chimed in, “Exactly, Elder Chen! Even if you don’t drink, at least try the food. The cooks truly outdid themselves this time. Watching you nibble on dry rations while we feast just kills the mood!”

His words won instant approval from most present. Even the disdainful Zou Ping advised, “Brother Chen, though the chief is nonsense, his wine and cooks are superb. Such flavors are rare even in the kingdom—wouldn’t it be a shame not to try?”

Yet faced with these well-meaning or flattering words, Chen Ce only smiled and replied, “Thank you for your kindness. I never eat anything but my own rations during a mission; a cup of water and a packet of dry food suffice. Zou, you’ve probably heard of this.”

“For more than twenty years, I’ve never eaten outside of the Chen family. Please don’t persuade me further—let this old man keep his record. Who knows, it might become a story someday. I hope to be remembered for it.”

At this, everyone laughed, saying, “So that’s how it is. We were rash—deserve a penalty! Elder Chen’s ambition deserves our respect; lucky are we to be part of it—let’s drink to that!”

Thus the toasts and banter grew louder, and everyone except Elder Chen feasted with abandon.

Meanwhile, Hu San, outside, had already dealt with several nearby bandits and tossed their bodies aside. Now, aside from the revelers inside, no one remained near the pavilion.

Estimating that a quarter hour had passed, Hu San retrieved the Nine Ox Bow from its hiding place, selected three hundred iron arrows, filled three quivers, and took up a refined steel blade. He crept silently toward the pavilion.

Having posed as the chief for some time, Hu San was intimately familiar with the layout. With a few turns, he reached the hall where the guests were gathered. He slipped up a low wall, peering through the open window to observe the feast.

“Excellent. Looks like they’ve eaten and drunk their fill. They’ll never guess I’ll strike here—after all, the four most powerful figures in the mountain stronghold are inside, aside from myself.”

A smile surfaced on his face but quickly vanished. He muttered, “What’s going on? Why does Chen Ce show no signs of intoxication? He hasn’t even touched the food.”

Looking closely at the chopsticks, Hu San’s heart skipped a beat. They bore no trace of use. The old man had neither drunk nor tasted the food—an oddity indeed.

He couldn’t believe Chen Ce had spotted the scheme—otherwise, he’d have warned his men, since even the prideful master Zou Ping was drinking himself tipsy. Chen Ce had no reason to treat such a first-rate expert as expendable.

But if he hadn’t noticed anything amiss, his behavior was still too strange to be explained by common sense.

For a moment, Hu San felt a surge of uncertainty.

“No matter. Even if you abstain, what of it? A first-rate expert—so what? I’ve slain monsters like Black Wolf; why should I fear you?”

He gritted his teeth. From his vantage, he could see the lowest-level martial artists—like the third chief, Scarface, and the second, Chi Zhen—whose faces were beginning to show faint golden plum-blossom-shaped spots.

According to previous experiments, this heralded the onset of the Abyssal Guest’s venom. If they were already affected, the others couldn’t be far behind, even if they had deeper internal energy.

Moreover, though Chen Ce was unaffected, he wasn’t in an open environment, his guard lowered among the revelers. Amid the din and the drifting wine fumes, Chen Ce had to socialize, inevitably letting his focus slip.

Additionally, the vapors rising from the dishes and the aroma of the wine might also contain stone venom and deadly toxins—perhaps Chen Ce was already poisoned, just in a minimal dose. Of course, this was mere conjecture.

Hu San didn’t truly understand these poisons, nor did he dare count on them.

He took a deep breath, drew twenty arrows from the quiver and placed them within easy reach, then picked up one, fitting it to the Nine Ox Bow, and pulled the string, aiming at Chen Ce’s chest.

He waited, ready to act when the first victim collapsed.

Seconds ticked by. Hu San became as still as stone, holding the bow and arrow, all his focus on the shot. This arrow would be fired with unprecedented force; the Nine Ox Bow was drawn almost to a circle, the bow creaking under the strain.

Just then, Scarface raised his glass for a toast. Before the wine touched his lips, his body stiffened abruptly, and golden spots rapidly appeared, spreading across his face.

Amid laughter, Scarface collapsed, crashing onto the table.

He had been sitting close to Chen Ce. Seeing him slump, Chen Ce, unsuspecting, reached out with a smile to pull him upright, grabbing his collar.

In that instant, Chen Ce’s left arm inclined back, right arm pulling Scarface, his chest exposed and unguarded. Hu San’s eyes brightened; he let his fingers slip.

Bang!

A soft explosion rang out as the bowstring quivered violently. The arrow shot like a streak of black light, flying through the open window and into the hall at indescribable speed.