The Battle of Poisons

Sensing the flicker of murderous intent in Divine Healer Lu's eyes, Yang Fan casually touched his nose and glanced at him with a slight smile at the corners of his lips. He understood perfectly—he had thoroughly offended one of Kyoto's famed Three Divine Healers. But when he recalled that this man was merely a guest apothecary for the "Yang Family of Kyoto," any regret or hesitation he might have felt quickly vanished.

As Divine Healer Lu re-entered the side hall, the gazes of several others immediately turned toward him. His complexion was still somewhat off, but as soon as he took his seat, a strange gleam flashed in his eyes, and he cast an indifferent glance at Yang Fan.

Suddenly, an unusual atmosphere pervaded the air. Though invisible to the naked eye, the tension was palpable, causing an undercurrent of unease, as if one had been dropped into a perilous, wild forest where, despite the silence, danger lurked in every shadow.

Yang Fan felt a slight chill run down his spine as a subtle sense of danger enveloped him. He activated his spiritual senses. With his cultivator's clairvoyant vision, he detected a faint red ripple, invisible to ordinary eyes, forming into tendrils that rushed toward him in the blink of an eye.

*Poison magic?*

"So, Divine Healer Lu also practices poison arts!" Yang Fan was taken aback but maintained his outward calm, showing no signs of distress. 

Behind his serene facade, the power of the *Xianhong Jue* technique stirred within him, its endless vitality cycling through his body. As soon as the faint purple ripples neared him, they were mostly absorbed and neutralized by his unique constitution. The small portion that remained was swiftly engulfed and devoured by the life mist that surrounded him, dissolving in an instant.

Within two breaths, Divine Healer Lu withdrew his gaze from Yang Fan, sitting quietly as if nothing had transpired, sipping his tea with an air of calm detachment.

The other guests in the hall exchanged curious glances, sensing something odd between the two apothecaries.

"Yang Apothecary…" Yu Wen Xin, sitting nearby, noticed the subtle shift in the atmosphere. Her bright eyes reflected a trace of concern as she looked toward Yang Fan.

In response, Yang Fan flashed a reassuring smile, signaling that he was unharmed.

Observing this, Divine Healer Lu's expression grew dubious. He studied Yang Fan closely for a moment, only to find that the young man appeared completely unscathed.

"How is this possible? This boy… he completely resisted my 'Seven Decay Poison Arts!'" 

A storm of shock swirled in Lu's mind. His gaze toward Yang Fan shifted dramatically, erasing any hint of the dismissiveness he'd previously held. 

To him, this young apothecary, barely in the Foundation Establishment stage, was like a looming iceberg hidden in the clouds—appearing insignificant, yet clearly far more formidable than what was visible.

Among the Three Divine Healers of Kyoto, Lu's medical expertise wasn't the highest, but his mastery of poisons was unrivaled. In truth, long before he became a healer, he had been a "poison master," only later assuming the guise of an apothecary to evade enemies, eventually finding refuge with the Yang family of Kyoto.

His *Seven Decay Poison* was a secret art developed years ago. It killed invisibly and acted swiftly, though its drawback was its high consumption of spiritual energy. Still, once unleashed, even an unsuspecting cultivator of similar rank would either perish or be severely crippled.

And yet, the young apothecary in front of him had shrugged off this poison as if it were nothing.

Yang Fan's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as he gazed back at Lu. Then, he leisurely cracked open a sunflower seed, his relaxed demeanor bordering on nonchalance, nearly causing him to prop his feet up in comfort.

Seeing this, Divine Healer Lu's face clouded with uncertainty. He fell silent, no longer sure whether he was crafting a new strategy or simply at a loss.

But Yang Fan remained unconcerned. The *Xianhong Jue* technique, which he had mastered, was a miraculous healing art when used normally. When reversed, however, it became a terrifying poison technique, capable of turning the most fertile land into a desolate wasteland. 

Among his peers, Yang Fan knew that few apothecaries could rival him—at least none posed a serious threat.

Prince Yan, Yu Wen Lie, wasn't an ordinary person either. His sharp eyes flickered with interest as he observed the silent exchange between Yang Fan and Divine Healer Lu.

In his mind, he counted two rounds of unspoken combat between the two apothecaries:

The first time, Yang Fan had taken the initiative, catching Divine Healer Lu off guard.

The second time, Divine Healer Lu had attacked, but Yang Fan emerged unscathed.

In both encounters, Yang Fan seemed to have the upper hand, holding back as if he had yet to show his true strength.

"Your Highness, the guests in the Hall of Heroes are nearly all settled..." At that moment, the elderly steward entered, whispering a few words into Prince Yan's ear.

"What? He's here too…" Yu Wen Lie's expression shifted slightly, preparing to speak when a cold, detached voice rang out from the Hall of Heroes:

"A bunch of idiots."

The voice carried a chilling arrogance and a sense of superiority, as if it emanated from someone high above, disdainful of everyone present.

Yang Fan's interest was piqued, and he activated his clairvoyance. His senses quickly located a young man in the grand hall radiating a powerful, razor-sharp aura. The youth appeared to be around sixteen or seventeen, dressed in pristine white robes, though his face was strikingly plain.

Despite his ordinary appearance, the boy's snow-white attire stood out sharply amidst the richly adorned and extravagantly dressed crowd in the hall, making him seem out of place.

"Something's not right… Wu Shuang has arrived."

"Wu Shuang! What's that demon doing at the Yan Prince's Manor?"

Whispers broke out among the guests in the Hall of Heroes, many recognizing the boy's identity.

*Wu Shuang?* Yang Fan found the youth strangely compelling, a sense of unease stirring within him. Despite his age, the youth's presence exuded a latent threat, and judging by the aura emanating from him, his strength was likely no less than that of a Condensed Spirit stage cultivator.

"Wait… something's off…"

Upon closer inspection, Yang Fan realized that the boy didn't seem to be either a typical cultivator or a martial artist from the mundane world.

*Could he be a sword cultivator?*

Yang Fan's gaze fell upon the weapon strapped to the youth's back—a sword still sheathed, its ancient, refined appearance immediately marking it as an extraordinary artifact.

After Wu Shuang's arrival, Yang Fan noticed a change in Yu Wen Xin's demeanor beside him. She seemed uneasy, her eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions before quickly regaining her composure.

"Miss Yu Wen, do you know him?"

Yang Fan asked casually, though at that moment, his curiosity about Wu Shuang eclipsed even the presence of the beautiful woman next to him. 

A being who neither belonged to the realm of traditional cultivators nor that of ordinary martial artists, yet bore the air of a sword cultivator—a legendary type of practitioner said to wield unparalleled offensive power—how could Yang Fan not be intrigued?

Sword cultivators were an ancient branch of cultivation that flourished in ages long past. According to ancient texts, their attack power far surpassed that of cultivators of the same rank, making them fearsome opponents.

If the ultimate goal of most cultivators was to attain immortality, the dream of a sword cultivator was to become a sword immortal—free to roam the heavens and earth, utterly unrestrained.

"Yes," Yu Wen Xin nodded hesitantly, then added with some uncertainty, "Half a year ago, my father defeated him and cast him out of the manor. Now, it seems…"

"He's come back to challenge the Prince once more?" Yang Fan's eyes gleamed with understanding. *So, he's a martial fanatic.*

"Perhaps…" Yu Wen Xin's gaze turned evasive.

Yang Fan gave her a thoughtful look, about to speak when Prince Yan's voice broke the tension:

"Esteemed guests, please take your seats in the Hall of Heroes."