Chapter Eighty-Nine: Blood Spilled and the Challenge Letter

"Brother, your words are somewhat biased. I won't comment on why Master Jiang wasn't affected by the venom, but his use of secret arts to probe Tang Qiu's mind seems reckless. Even if there's no antidote, let's not forget that the method for cultivating this venom is even more important. Everyone here has experienced its power firsthand—if it spreads or is exploited by certain individuals, the world would never know peace. That's why I questioned it," Song Cang declared, his face brimming with righteous indignation. His words sent a jolt through the crowd: indeed, if outsiders learned the cultivation method for the 'Ten-Finger Lock Venom,' disaster would surely follow. This venom was so formidable that only masters of the third realm could withstand it, and ninety percent of families lacked such experts. In most cases, those afflicted could only surrender to the whims of the one wielding the venom. On the other hand, what if one obtained this secret technique for themselves...?

Immediately, many present cast strange looks at Jiang An. This was the insidious brilliance of Song Cang's scheme; with a single hint, the families and factions gathered would be moved by fear or greed, all eyeing Jiang An.

"Second Master Song is right. We must not let this venom technique spread!"

Suddenly, someone voiced support, and the hall erupted in commotion.

"Yes, better safe than sorry!"

"No matter what, this vicious venom must not be revealed to a second person!"

"Or perhaps the technique should be made public, and everyone can work together to develop defenses or an antidote, so there's nothing to fear!"

"Exactly, our lives are at stake; we can trust each other. Even if we can't make an antidote, as long as there's a defensive artifact..."

The crowd chimed in, each with ulterior motives, their words growing ever more outrageous—some even coveting defensive artifacts!

The ugliness of human nature was laid bare in that moment. Everyone believed that the law couldn't punish the masses—what could anyone do to them?

Song Han was helpless, casting a troubled glance at Jiang An.

Yet Jiang An wasn't the least bit angered. Instead, he burst out laughing, having witnessed such scenes many times before.

"Wonderful, wonderful! What a display of biting the hand that feeds you—how enlightening! In that case, I'll give you all a generous gift!"

With that, he struck Tang Qiu's shoulder. Tang Qiu's body instantly went limp, collapsing to the ground, his breathing rapid. Jiang An, smiling, announced, "Tang Qiu has taken my palm. Within half an hour, his meridians will shatter, and he will surely die! When he dies, the venom within you all will activate immediately, and not even the immortals could save you. Even if the Song family master were willing to expend his own power, how many could he save in such a short time? As it happens, just as Master Song said, I am versed in medical arts and have devised a method to cleanse the poison..."

Those who had spoken rudely felt a sudden chill of foreboding.

"Hehe, I have no inclination to save ungrateful wolves. So, those who have not insulted me and wish to live, come stand by my side. Be quick—time is short, and half an hour will soon pass."

It was a killing blow, swift and absolute.

In the face of life and death, people's choices are always the same. Among the hundreds present, only a few had insulted Jiang An. So, as soon as he finished speaking, the crowd surged toward him, eager to ensure their survival.

"Faster now; preparing the medicine takes time," Jiang An urged, stoking the flames.

The crowd panicked, the herd mentality taking over, and each hurried to Jiang An's side, secretly grateful for not having returned evil for good moments earlier.

Some tried to slip through unnoticed, but Jiang An's memory was impeccable. A single cold glance from him forced the opportunists to stand awkwardly in place.

Soon, the crowd split into two camps: the vast majority stood with Jiang An, while Song Cang had only twenty-some people clustered around him, their faces bleak.

Song Cang hadn't expected his scheme to be so easily dismantled, nor his dignity shredded. Gritting his teeth, he rallied his group: "Don't worry, I'll have my brother use his qi to cleanse us!"

This brought some relief, until Song Han coldly interjected, "The venom is fused with your flesh and blood. By my estimate, I can cleanse one person every five minutes, which means I can save six. The rest of you will have to decide among yourselves."

Song Cang had shown Song Han no respect, and Song Han repaid him in kind.

The words were thunderclaps—only six could be saved. With Song Cang claiming one spot, five remained for more than twenty people.

The group glanced at each other, suspicious and guarded, each casting resentful looks at Song Cang, blaming him for their predicament.

Song Cang's triumph vanished, rage boiling within him. Jiang An struck again.

"The sea of bitterness has no end; turn back to the shore. If anyone is willing to spit on Song Cang, I'll save them. Time is running out."

The casual offer sent a ripple through the group. For survival, what did pride or dignity matter?

"Song Cang, I spit on you! I sever all ties with you, villain!" one man declared, spitting at Song Cang.

"Good, let this gentleman be an example. You may come over," Jiang An praised.

Overjoyed, the man hurried to Jiang An. With someone leading the way, others followed suit, each spitting on Song Cang, cursing him, then running to Jiang An.

Song Cang was nearly beside himself with rage, biting his tongue to keep from losing control, his murderous stare fixed on Jiang An and the traitors, silently vowing revenge.

Jiang An no longer suppressed those who switched sides, knowing the Song family would never forgive them, and other families would mock them. The matter had reached its conclusion, so he instructed:

"Now, let's begin the detoxification. Chief Steward, please count how many here are poisoned, and prepare the same number of live pigs. Coat them with a special medicine; I will draw the poison from your bodies into the pigs. The formula is three ounces of honeysuckle, one ounce of dried grass..."

Jiang An spoke confidently, listing dozens of herbs. Song Qi could remember them, but smiled bitterly. "These items can be prepared, but time is far too short!"

Even with the Song family's resources, where could they find so many live pigs on such short notice?

Jiang An laughed. "Oh, I nearly forgot—earlier I was only joking with you all. Tang Qiu will live for three days, plenty of time!"

Pfft!

"You...!" Song Cang's anger boiled over, and he coughed up blood, crimson droplets splattering.

Everyone broke out in cold sweat, realizing they'd been played by Jiang An, but none dared offend him further—this man was terrifying, able to drive a master to spit blood with a word, and their lives were still in his hands.

"That will be all. My birthday banquet has become such a farce—my apologies to all. Now, safety comes first. Song Qi, hurry and arrange the detoxification. Tomorrow, I will host another banquet to make amends," Song Han declared, ending the drama.

The Song family's guards sprang into action, detaining the criminals, tending to the wounded, and restoring order. Jiang An walked over to Song Wanshuang, asking, "Are you alright? Did it frighten you?"

"Not at all. In fact, I was amazed today," Song Wanshuang replied, her eyes shining as she gazed at Jiang An. The way he commanded respect with laughter and wit was mesmerizing. "And it turns out the ring you gave me is a real treasure!"

"Haha, as long as you like it!"

"Hmph! Mommy, let me go!" came the childish voice. It was Xixi, wriggling free from Song Wanshuang's embrace, complaining, "Mommy kept covering my eyes—I couldn't see anything! Hmph!"

As it turned out, when chaos erupted, Song Wanshuang instinctively hugged Xixi and covered her eyes. Xixi could only hear a jumble of strange words, unable to see anything, nearly suffocating from curiosity.

Jiang An reached out, picked up Xixi, gave her a kiss, and laughed, "Some things children shouldn't see. Be good now."

"I'm not a child!" the little one protested, still upset.

At that moment, Song Chengzong approached with his wife and children. "Thank you, Mr. Jiang, for saving us. Otherwise, my Mingxuan would have been in grave danger. Mingxuan, kneel and thank Mr. Jiang."

Mingxuan, honest and straightforward, knelt and gave Jiang An several resounding bows. Song Chengzong's wife expressed her gratitude repeatedly, and Song Qiuke exclaimed, "Brother-in-law, you're amazing! I never knew you were so powerful. Brother-in-law, will you teach me your skills?"

Seeing this, those with a bit of shame came forward to thank Jiang An for saving their lives, showering him with praise, some clearly hoping to curry favor.

"Master! Grandmaster Jiang! Someone has delivered a challenge letter!"

Song Qi, who had gone to make arrangements, suddenly rushed in, his voice echoing through the hall, holding a yellow-paper envelope.

"Is it for me? Go ahead and read it aloud," Jiang An replied calmly.

Without pretense, Song Qi drew out the letter and read it before the crowd:

"Mr. Jiang An, hearing of your mastery of both martial and mystical arts, unrivaled in battle, I am filled with admiration. I invite you to a duel on the second day of February, at the shores of the Yellow Sea, beside the land of Korea in Qilu, China, to exchange skills and learn from each other. I hope you will graciously accept—Respectfully, Shen Gu Daoist."