Chapter Thirty: Poisoning (Part Two)

There were ten solitary cells here, each forged from refined iron. Thick bars, as sturdy as a man’s thumb, formed the framework, with iron walls three inches thick enveloping each cell. Even a mystical tiger would find escape impossible.

The prisoners within displayed a variety of demeanors. Some, upon hearing footsteps outside, shot vicious and sinister glances through the bars. Others, their minds broken, wandered the confines of their cells singing strange songs, their expressions twisted and bizarre.

Wu Cheng, however, had neither the time nor the ability to peer through the iron plates at these men. His confusion arose from a simple fact: each cell looked exactly the same, and the Third Elder had not told him which was which before he left. The reason was simple: the person delivering the treasures was under the Third Elder’s command, and only he had spoken about it to his disciples. At this moment, he had to avoid suspicion. Naturally, the news about Su Kun and Huang Yang could not be disclosed to Wu Cheng.

As he stood there, at a loss, a sudden inspiration struck him. Wu Cheng slapped his forehead in frustration and muttered, “How could I forget such a simple method?”

The Third Elder had anticipated he wouldn’t know the position of the two men, and Su Bai had instructed him to inform Wu Cheng of alternate methods—namely, the secret code used by Su Kun and himself.

Hurriedly, Wu Cheng took out a plum blossom dart and a flint from his breast, then moved to the first cell door and scraped them together vigorously. Though some inmates in the second tier muttered madly, the sound of scraping was loud enough, and Su Kun and his companion would not fail to hear it.

Fortunately, they had such an unconventional code; otherwise, Wu Cheng would never dare toss a plum blossom dart into every cell. He only had one, after all—what could he do if it wasn’t returned?

Patiently, Wu Cheng tried each cell in turn. If there was no special response, he delivered the meal box through a ventilation shaft about a foot long and as wide as a palm, as per usual. The shaft was designed to protect the meal deliverer from harm by the prisoners.

When Wu Cheng scraped again at the sixth cell, a muffled cry for help echoed from within. Wu Cheng was overjoyed. He quickly folded a prepared note and placed it in the meal box, sliding it into the shaft.

He waited for some time, but heard no further movement within. He wondered, “Could it be that the prisoner sensed I was not friendly?”

Just as he hesitated about his next move, there came a faint clinking of chains from inside. Understanding Su Kun’s signal, Wu Cheng pushed the meal box through the shaft into the cell.

But the force of his push spilled the food within. Luckily, the box was sturdy; although the meal was scattered, it remained inside, albeit in an unappetizing mess.

Inside the cell, Su Kun saw the meal box and immediately struggled to his feet. The heavy chains made it difficult, especially where they cut into his whip wounds, reigniting the pain he had numbed himself to. But he did not shrink back. He lifted his hands to avoid scraping his fingers against the ground. With his legs injured, he could not crawl normally, so he wriggled forward like a worm—an awkward, almost comical sight.

Yet his eyes shone with a never-before-seen brightness. He recognized at a glance the special paper used for the note—it belonged exclusively to the Third Elder. This was a message: the Third Elder would rescue him.

Days of torture had left the young man, barely in his twenties, more dead than alive. He wept before even reading the note.

After much effort, he reached his goal. He gripped the folded note between his palms, which lacked even an envelope, yet it was of utmost importance.

Su Kun, his tears flowing, smoothed out the paper. There were but a few words: “Kun, Yang, you two have suffered long in your quest for my lost treasure. I will surely rescue you. Take care of your bodies in the cell; banish all thoughts of suicide. In three days, the clouds will part and the moon will shine.”

“Master…” When Su Kun reached the end, he was already sobbing, murmuring, “Rest assured, Master, your disciple will not fail you.”

He glanced at the food box, filled with a meal…

“Wuu, wuu…” Su Kun could only clutch the box with both hands, burying his face in it and shoving food into his mouth, smearing his face with rice and stew. His dried blood and streaming tears mingled with the meal.

“Master is finally coming to save me! I won’t have to suffer here any longer. My master must have paid dearly for this rescue. When I’m out, I’ll brave fire and water to fulfill his mission.”

Su Kun ate desperately, forcing down the unpalatable food. As he ate, exhaustion overcame him; the meal box slipped from his hands, spilling soup everywhere.

He did not know why this drowsiness was so overpowering, as if he had not slept for three days and nights. He shook his head but could not resist sleep.

Sensing something amiss, he opened his mouth and bit down hard on his own finger.

Snap!

He bit through his finger—but at once collapsed with a heavy thud.

His eyes remained wide, staring at the meal box, as if two blood tears were about to fall.

Just one wall away, Wu Cheng, who had been listening for sounds within, finally relaxed his tense heart.

He extinguished the calming incense in his hand and repeated the same procedure at each cell, searching for any response like a ghost knocking on doors.

From the moment he heard the chains, he had lit the incense, stopping only when the cell grew silent.

But at the seventh and eighth cells, there was no response, leaving Wu Cheng uneasy, uncertain if he had missed Huang Yang.

When he reached the ninth cell and repeated the process, a voice suddenly thundered in his mind.

“Foolish creature, murdering in the dungeon with such a clumsy method. But you’re just a scapegoat, so I can understand.”

“Who!” Wu Cheng spun around in terror, but saw no one.

Eyes wide, back pressed against the wall, he searched for the source of the voice—but nothing appeared.

As he slowly raised his head toward the ceiling, the voice sounded again in his mind.

“Are you not exchanging secret codes with me? Why still searching outside, like a man riding a donkey to find a donkey!” The tone was mocking and disdainful.

Wu Cheng swallowed heavily, took a few fearful steps forward, then dropped to his knees, lowering his voice to beg for mercy: “Senior, please spare me. I am compelled by circumstance, I beg your magnanimity!”

His belongings lay scattered on the floor as he shivered, prostrate.

Silence reigned like a blackout in a grand mansion. Yet Wu Cheng dared not rise; he knew such experts were eccentric, and so he held his posture.

After an indeterminate time, a chilling laughter sounded.

“Hehehehe!” The familiar voice filled Wu Cheng’s mind, so loud it seemed to shake his skull.

“I’ve spent years in this dungeon, seen all manner of oddities. Yours is nothing new—it’s hard to let you go.”

“But... Senior... I—” Wu Cheng stammered, unsure what to say.

He was as ordinary as could be; what could he possess to interest such a person?

As he hesitated, the voice returned: “How about this—tell me everything: the mastermind, motive, details. I haven’t seen a murder in the Great Yan dungeon in twenty years. Let this old man hear it for amusement.”

“Senior!” Wu Cheng was terrified, but not to the point of losing his mind. He knew that if he revealed everything, the Third Elder would never forgive him.

“Hmph! So you refuse a toast and take the penalty instead!” Before Wu Cheng could refuse, a cold blast exploded in his mind, splitting his head with pain, and his consciousness faded.

Half a cup of tea later—

“Huff, huff.” Wu Cheng slowly opened his eyes, feeling his head heavy and unable to recall what had happened.

“That’s when you wake up? Your aptitude is truly lacking,” the voice sounded again in his mind.

“Senior, how long was I unconscious?” Wu Cheng checked himself and found all his limbs intact, breathing a sigh of relief.

“About a cup of tea’s time. Hurry and finish off the next cell—there’s still time,” the voice drawled.

“Ah?” Wu Cheng exclaimed, “You already know?”

“More or less. That little fellow’s recipe was worth a look. For his sake, I won’t rat you out.”

The voice sounded once more, then ignored Wu Cheng’s further attempts to communicate.

Wu Cheng clenched his fists, anxiety gnawing at his heart, but lingering here any longer would only bring trouble. Helpless, he carried on with his task.

As he left the cell door, a chuckle echoed from within: “This Illusion Art is quite something—not bad for ten years of my effort on you. But that Great Yan disciple really touched the limits of my knowledge. This thing actually kills—remarkable indeed!”

Half an hour later—

The gate slowly opened again.

A figure crawled out in disarray—it was Wu Cheng.

“You took so long,” the old man in black asked abruptly.

Wu Cheng dared not lie, so he bowed respectfully and replied, “It was my first time here, and encountering such a master as yourself, I became flustered. Moreover, I made mistakes in my cultivation recently. So... when I descended to the second tier, I forgot to take a Cleansing Pill in advance and nearly lost control of my mind.”

“Hmm. Go on,” the old man in black waved him away.

Wu Cheng felt as if he had been pardoned, fleeing the spot as quickly as he could. Only after running several hundred meters to a willow tree did he stop, leaning against it and breathing desperately, like a desert wanderer finally finding water.

He had carried out sect missions before, even killed—but this was the first time he had poisoned fellow disciples.

Neither the two experts at the dungeon entrance nor the mysterious figure within were ones he could afford to provoke; indeed, not even the Third Elder could contend with them.

Especially now, the mysterious prisoner knew all his secrets, and could control his mind without a trace. The thought chilled him to the bone, as if frost settled on his neck.

He pondered, but found no solution; the road ahead seemed unclear. At last, he steeled himself: “It’s done, I can’t undo it—even if I regret it, it’s useless. If fighting means death, and not fighting means death, why not try? If I succeed, I can escape this predicament.”

“Senior brother, you just let him kill and walk away?” The white-robed elder, silent until now, asked in confusion.

The old man in black chuckled, raising a hand to halt him: “It’s grown dull over the years. Let’s stir things up for once—I want to see what chaos unfolds.”

The white-robed elder frowned, displeased. “Senior brother, even if you’re bored, don’t overstep. Don’t forget the true purpose of guarding this dungeon. If something happens, how will you explain to Master Gu?”

“The old thing in the dungeon—you know as well as I do. If he wanted to leave, he would have done so long ago; we’re only here to provide a quiet place for his cultivation. Don’t take the task too seriously,” replied the old man in black, unwilling to debate further.

“Besides, if you really wanted to stop me, could he have gotten away?”

“I won’t meddle. Do as you wish!” The white-robed elder was helpless before his senior; he had sensed something wrong even before Wu Cheng entered.

But his senior was not wrong; he too was curious to see how much trouble would arise.

After years of cultivation, he had reached a bottleneck and sought a breakthrough.

“It’s time to ask Master Gu if we can get someone to replace us,” the white-robed elder said. “No matter how hard we cultivate, it’s useless here; we might as well go out and seek fortune.”

“Sigh.” The old man in black spread his hands helplessly. “You think this task is easy to hand over?”

“There’s nothing for it—we owe Master Gu a life. Guarding the dungeon is a favor repaid,” the white-robed elder said, turning away in dejection.

“Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean, senior brother?” The white-robed elder turned back, staring at him.

The old man in black spoke slowly. “If I recall, in the past century, there have been seven cases of murder or jailbreak in the dungeon.”

“And what does that have to do with us... Oh, I see!” The white-robed elder began to object, then suddenly understood, his face lighting up. “Senior brother, you mean the prisoner inside is about to emerge from seclusion?”

“Think of the fate of those involved in the previous incidents. This time, Wu Cheng escaped unscathed and lingered inside for so long. Had this happened during the prisoner’s meditation, he would have been torn apart—those who disturb his cultivation never meet a good end,” said the old man in black.

The white-robed elder nodded in agreement. “That’s true.”

“I’d wager in ten years at most, we won’t need to guard this place anymore,” the old man in black gazed at the distant sky, filled with emotion.