Chapter Forty-One: The Desire to Become a Martial Arts Master

"Young Marquis, it's useless! He An has been poisoned by the 'Ghost's Despair.' This toxin is extremely potent and acts quickly—even a peak martial artist cannot withstand it. He An's internal energy is deep, which is why he managed to endure until now; an ordinary martial artist would have died long ago. Unless we have the antidote, even I am powerless to help," Steward Cao said, facing Zheng Yiqing's desperate pleas, his old face wracked with worry and helplessness.

Some of the captive martial artists nearby exchanged meaningful glances, their hearts stirring restlessly. Yet none dared act rashly. Even though He An was poisoned, Steward Cao, Master Hou, and others remained formidable late-stage martial artists. The bearded man and the lean fighter, trusted aides of Zheng Yiqing, were not easy to contend with.

"Young Marquis! I have the antidote to 'Ghost's Despair,'" Poison Master Lin Zhi said, after a long internal struggle, finally deciding to hand over the antidote to purge He An's poison. Perhaps he could join Zheng Yiqing and his group in their quest for immortality across the sea—not trapped on this isolated island, facing the ever-increasing ferocious sea beasts. That was far more promising than clinging to Ye Mo and Gao Jian, defending the cave camp.

"What? You have the antidote?" Zheng Yiqing was overjoyed, grabbing Lin Zhi's arm. "Quick! Bring it out—He An can't hold on much longer!"

"Wait!" Master Hou suddenly showed suspicion. "He An was just poisoned by 'Ghost's Despair.' How do you happen to have the antidote ready? Isn't that too convenient? It couldn't be fake, meant to finish He An off?"

"It's the real antidote, of course! I'm a poison master—I can make both the 'Ghost's Despair' toxin and its antidote! I found the poisonous herb here on the island and made some for self-defense," Lin Zhi explained cautiously, worried he might slip and reveal that Ye Mo's poison came from him, which would surely cause trouble.

Zheng Yiqing waved his hand impatiently. "Enough! We'll treat him anyway—better than doing nothing. Saving He An is the priority!"

He didn't believe Lin Zhi would dare deceive him. He took half the antidote, sprinkled it on He An's wounded arm, poured the rest into his mouth, and helped him drink some water from the flask.

Zheng Yiqing watched He An intently for changes.

Soon, the blackness faded from He An's face; his complexion turned pale instead of dark. Slowly, he regained consciousness, opened his eyes to look at Zheng Yiqing, but his body remained numb and extremely weak. Seeing he was safe, he said nothing more.

"He An is awake at last! Wonderful!" Zheng Yiqing rejoiced, relieved to see the poison purged, his heart gradually settling.

"Lin Zhi, you just said you studied this poison? Then make some 'Ghost's Despair' now. I want to retaliate—let that bastard taste its deadly effects!" Zheng Yiqing demanded fiercely, turning to the poison master.

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Lin Zhi replied with a bitter smile, considering how best to explain. "Why not?" Zheng Yiqing asked, puzzled.

"He has both the 'Ghost's Despair' poison and the antidote... On the island, I've only found this one potent poisonous herb—the others are too weak, easily expelled by internal energy, and ineffective against martial artists," Lin Zhi said helplessly.

Even if he wanted to conceal that Ye Mo possessed the antidote, it would come out sooner or later when they attacked the camp for real, and the consequences would be even worse then.

"Did you give it to him? No need to explain! Poison masters are rare—having you here is already uncommon; there couldn't be a second poison master on this wretched island, and only you can craft 'Ghost's Despair,'" Master Hou squinted coldly. "You gave the poison to that boy, then used the antidote to save He An—playing both sides, what's your game?"

"What? You gave the 'Ghost's Despair' to Ye Mo? You bastard! If not for your poison that forced He An to retreat, I'd have taken that boy's camp today! Are you secretly colluding with him? Get out!" Zheng Yiqing was taken aback, veins bulging on his face as he yelled at Lin Zhi. If not for the poison master's many henchmen working in the captive camp, Zheng Yiqing would've gladly cut him down.

Lin Zhi was unable to defend himself, spat upon and humiliated. Lowering his head, he retreated, his face twisted with rage as he felt the mocking stares of the martial artists and captives around him. Hatred welled in his heart. He regretted not staying in Ye Mo's camp, where at least he had some connections and wouldn't be so disgraced.

Unable to attack the camp with poison, Zheng Yiqing dropped the idea, led his martial artists back to the captive camp, and hurriedly began crafting a batch of spiritwood shields.

He An, just purged of poison, was extremely weak and needed recuperation. Over a dozen other martial artists were mostly wounded by arrows or spears and needed time to heal. For now, attacking the cave camp was impossible.

...

Dusk fell, and night shrouded the sky. The stars stretched vast and bright, a river of silver across the heavens.

"In a few more days, I should reach the ninth layer of the Body Refining Stage!" Ye Mo stood silently atop the low wooden arrow tower at the center of the camp, on sentry duty, reflecting on the hardships endured on the island. His thoughts drifted to distant childhood memories.

When he was seven, in the early winter of the Martial Kingdom, snow blanketed the land for a thousand miles. Snowflakes drifted gently, like falling petals, beautiful beyond words.

"Mo'er, I'm going to the battlefield to fight. You must take care of yourself and your mother," his father said.

"Don't forget to train your body every day. When I earn merit on the battlefield and return, I'll buy you a top martial arts manual! I look forward to seeing you become a peak martial artist, a general of the Martial Kingdom, bringing honor to our family!"

That day, a middle-aged man in soldier's garb lovingly stroked the child standing at the door. Though he was but an ordinary soldier, he still dreamed his son would one day command thousands as a great general.

"Come home soon!" said the woman standing beside the child, her eyes brimming with tears she fought hard to hold back.

The child nestled by his mother, watching his father walk farther and farther away, silent and calm.

He knew his father was off to war, where life hung by a thread.

He saw the tears in his mother's eyes—within their crystal depths, the silhouette of the man.

Growing smaller, yet ever deeper, until vanishing from sight. He knew it was not truly gone, but hidden in his mother's heart.

Months passed, winter deepened.

The war went poorly. Martial Kingdom's soldiers returned in waves, bringing back bodies. Among them was Ye Mo's father, pierced by seven arrows, having tried to seize the enemy city's walls first.

His mother spat blood in grief and rage, her heart bruised. Half a year later, she died of sorrow.

Yet on her deathbed, she urged Ye Mo to fulfill his father's wish—to become a peak martial artist, a general, and bring honor to the family.

That year, he was eight, just learning to cook, chop wood, wash clothes, fetch water—always remembering his parents' wishes.

He worked in an inn in the Martial Kingdom's capital for half a year, earning a few dozen copper coins, and bought the cheapest martial arts manual, "Wave-Cutting Technique," from a street stall.

He crafted a wooden sword himself.

Thus began his solitary struggle in the Martial Kingdom, practicing the Wave-Cutting Technique for ten years in rivers and streams.

"I'm about to reach peak martial artist soon! Even if I can't be a general, if someday I find the Eastern Sea Immortal Village and become an immortal, that will bring even greater honor!" Ye Mo murmured.

A bonfire crackled in the cave camp, martial artists gathered around it, their laughter and chatter breaking Ye Mo's long reverie.

He spent an hour in the watchtower, then rotated with another sentry.

The cave camp now had nearly ten people; each stood guard for only an hour, keeping their energy fresh.

Ye Mo descended from the low wooden tower, sat by the bonfire, and listened to the conversations.

Since they slew the young demon crab a few nights ago, the island nights had been peaceful—no sea beasts harassed Ye Mo's camp. Occasionally, a small sea snake wandered near the cave, adding "roast snake" to their meals. The meat was surprisingly delicious—fresh and tender.

Tonight was tranquil; no sea beasts appeared. The group sat by the fire, chatting about their lives, martial cultivation, and dreams of immortality.

Life on the island was dull; besides talking at night, there was little else to do.

After a while, Ye Mo learned the origins of Gao Jian's group—they were mostly martial artists from Yan Kingdom, a neighboring nation to his own Martial Kingdom, not particularly strong among the dozens surrounding it.

Mo Ling, Wang Hu, and Yang You hailed from Donglai Kingdom, a powerful coastal country.

Only Ye Mo came from the distant Martial Kingdom.

What surprised him most was learning that immortal cultivators existed even among the secular kingdoms, though they were exceedingly rare. They kept to themselves, their movements secret, scarcely known to the world.

Yet they frequently interacted with royal families and high officials. Sometimes, they'd select talented disciples from influential clans or major martial sects, taking them to Eastern Sea islands to cultivate.

Thus, tales of the Eastern Sea Immortal Village spread widely.

As for commoners, they were never chosen. Even those with monstrous talent needed extraordinary fate; otherwise, it was futile.

Training a high-level martial artist required tempering herbs that could bankrupt a wealthy family. Training an immortal cultivator demanded even rarer spiritual herbs, consuming unimaginable resources.

That's why only great sects or noble houses could provide the precious herbs needed to nurture a peak ninth-layer martial artist.

The group chatted for some time, slowly growing weary, and each retired to sleep in the cave.