Chapter Nineteen: The Poison Master

At noon on the island, the blazing sun hung high in the sky. Ye Mo walked alone through the dense jungle, feeling the mist and humidity rushing toward him, invigorating and refreshing, without a hint of stifling heat.

Ever since he had broken through to the seventh level of body refinement, his five senses had sharpened greatly. A few days ago, when he walked in the forest, he only faintly sensed the moisture in the air; now he could feel it coalescing into fine droplets, drifting along with the breeze. He could even hear the chirping of birds dozens of yards away on the thick treetops, and catch the faint fragrances of various grasses in the air.

“What’s that smell?... Herbs, and a faint trace of blood! There are quite a few people nearby!” Ye Mo sniffed the air and studied the chaotic footprints on the ground.

Before long, he saw ahead a low, crude fence in the forest, pieced together from small branches, rough and uneven, completely lacking in aesthetics. Looking inside the enclosure, Ye Mo saw seven martial artists sprawled about, sitting or lying in disarray, all speaking angrily about something.

At the center sat a black-robed martial artist of the highest rank, with the others gathered around him.

“They’re all dressed in rough cloth, all burly men—must be a band of commoner martial artists,” Ye Mo thought, crouching carefully in the grass, nerves taut. The atmosphere on the island was tense; strangers would draw blades over the slightest disagreement.

However, after sizing them up, he soon relaxed. He noticed not one of them carried an iron weapon; even the fence looked as if they’d snapped branches by brute force, which explained its ugliness. So, the sword and knife wounds on Wang Hu and Yang You likely hadn’t come from this group. Aside from those who specialized in unarmed combat or agility, most martial artists without weapons saw their fighting power plummet and were of little threat.

Ye Mo himself was not afraid of these seven unarmed men. He lay concealed in the thick grass, pricking up his ears to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Damn our luck! We don’t have a single decent weapon left—can’t even chop wood. All we can manage is to scrape together some branches and leaves; can’t even build a proper fence! How are we supposed to survive on this island? If a poisonous snake slithers in at night, we’re done for!” muttered a black-bearded brute, scowling at their shoddy enclosure.

“Stop complaining, Bull! We’re lucky to have survived that terrible storm at all. Sure, we lost our weapons in the shipwreck, but as long as we’re alive, there’s hope,” replied a young man in blue, his expression stern.

The burly man called Bull glanced at the youth but said no more, though his face remained sullen.

“Last night a sea beast showed up and killed a few people. Luckily, it left quickly, or we’d all be dead! Right now, we need weapons—if another sea beast comes tonight, who knows how many of us will be here tomorrow?” another chimed in.

“Easy for you to say. Who doesn’t know we need weapons? We can’t even break a tree! Where are we supposed to find arms—from rocks or branches?” complained a tiger-faced youth. His words, though grating, were hard to refute.

“If Boss Lin hadn’t used ‘Ghost Grass’ from the island to make that deadly poison and scare off the sea beast last night, there’d be even fewer of us standing here now!”

“No kidding! Too bad that poison didn’t kill the damn beast, or we could be feasting on meat right now.” As he spoke, the tiger-faced youth’s stomach rumbled pointedly.

Normally, laughter would have followed, but with everyone hungry and morale low, no one felt like joking.

“Ah, there’s no way out—no boat, no chance of leaving this cursed island. Are we doomed to die here? If I’d known the sea was so perilous, I’d never have gotten swept up in the search for the Immortal Village! No sign of that place, just these wretched islets everywhere. We were all duped by those sea traders!”

“Quit your nonsense! The boss will find a way to get us off this island alive! If you don’t want to search, just wait till we find the Immortal Village—you’ll be green with envy!”

…

Listening to their talk, Ye Mo pondered swiftly. These martial artists were also survivors from the same ship and seemed to be a group of commoners from the same country. After the disaster, only these seven remained, and they had lost their weapons in the storm. Lacking tools, they couldn’t even fell a tree, hence their ugly fence. Last night, a sea beast had attacked; though they’d driven it away, some members had been killed or wounded. Their situation had already reached the brink of despair.

“Their leader is actually an apothecary who can concoct poisons! If I could bring him into my cave camp, our defensive strength would multiply! Smearing weapons with poison would give us a much better chance against the sea monsters at month’s end,” Ye Mo thought, his interest piqued at the idea of recruiting the black-robed man.

During herb-gathering, Ye Mo had avoided poisonous plants, leaving them to rot unused. With an apothecary, they could be put to good use against the terrifying sea monsters. Nothing could be better!

“But that man in black doesn’t look like someone who’d submit to another, and judging by his face, he’s a schemer. My strength isn’t enough to make him bow. Getting him to obey me would be too difficult!” After a while, Ye Mo gave up on the tempting idea of recruiting them.

He didn’t yet have enough strength to command the apothecary and the other martial artists. Forcing them into the cave camp might bring disaster—if they tried to seize control, it would be disastrous.

However, failing to recruit the apothecary didn’t mean he couldn’t use him to make poisons. He could trade his spiritwood spears for prepared poisons.

Stepping out from his hiding place with the air of someone passing by, Ye Mo strolled up to their fence. He wasn’t afraid of them; if it came to a fight, he might not be able to defeat all seven barehanded, but killing two or three and escaping unharmed would be no problem.

“Who’s there?”

“Who is it?”

Shouts rang out in the ramshackle camp as the martial artists sprang up, alarmed by the sound of crunching leaves underfoot.

“Just passing by! I’m out foraging and happened to see your camp and overheard you talking about the island, so I thought I’d say hello. If I’ve disturbed you, I apologize,” Ye Mo said with a smile, stopping outside their fence.

“Passing by?”

“What’s there to pass by in this deep forest?” The martial artists eyed him with suspicion, but seeing he was alone and they had the numbers, their tension eased a little.

The black-robed man spotted the Azure Edge Sword at Ye Mo’s side and recognized it instantly. His brooding eyes lit up. With a wave of his hand, the camp fell silent, everyone waiting for him to speak.

“You must also be stranded on this island, as unfortunate as we are. This place is crawling with dangers—terrible sea monsters roam about, far beyond what we martial artists can handle. It’s dangerous for you to be alone—why not join us? We could use another hand, and you’d have a safe place to stay. What do you say?” The black-robed leader laughed heartily, making his pitch.

“I already have a group, just out looking for food. Thank you for your kind offer, but I must decline,” Ye Mo replied with a smile.

Disappointment flickered in the eyes of the black-robed man and the others; so much for recruiting him easily. Without that, they wouldn’t get their hands on the Azure Edge Sword—unless… robbery.

A glance passed between the black-robed leader and his men; several quietly picked up wooden clubs and rocks, beginning to circle around to flank Ye Mo.

“You overestimate yourselves! Do you really think your shoddy sticks and rocks can stand up to my Azure Edge Sword?” Ye Mo scoffed, his right hand on the sword hilt. With a ringing sound, he drew three inches of cold, gleaming steel.

Startled, the men looked to their leader. The black-robed man, his face unreadable, shook his head, signaling them to stop. He was unsure of Ye Mo’s strength and could not guarantee victory without casualties. Ye Mo showed no fear—he was not to be trifled with. If they failed, his own men would suffer dearly.

No one dared make another rash move.

“I overheard you lacking good weapons. If you need tools for defense, I can provide a few—but you’ll have to trade your most valuable possessions for them,” Ye Mo said bluntly. He had no patience to waste words.

“Oh, so you want to trade. What sort of weapons do you have, young man?” the black-robed leader asked after a moment’s thought. Weapons were their most urgent need.

“Spiritwood throwing spears,” Ye Mo replied.

“Wooden spears? Ha! You want to trade us wooden spears? Do you take us for fools?” Bull, still sulking, seized the chance to vent.

“Bull, watch your mouth!” The black-robed man glared at him, then turned to Ye Mo, agitated. “Are you talking about spears made from spiritwood? Those are as hard as iron!”

“Exactly,” Ye Mo confirmed.

“What do you want in exchange?”

“I heard you’re an apothecary, skilled in making poisons? I’ll trade a spiritwood spear for your poison. Of course, if you have anything else that could help my camp survive, I’m open to that as well,” Ye Mo said calmly.