Venom Unleashed

One of the bandits suddenly let out a gurgled scream.

A sword had pierced clean through his chest—from the back.

"Who?!" one of the others shouted, eyes widening in panic.

They turned just in time to see a young woman standing behind their fallen comrade. Her expression was calm, focused. Her blade slid free with a practiced motion, blood dripping from the steel, but not a hint of hesitation in her eyes.

One down.

But there were still too many.

The bandits growled, readying their weapons as they surrounded her. Some moved to flank, others hesitated, unsure of how this girl had taken one of theirs so cleanly.

From the carriage, a guard peeked out, eyes widening. "Someone's helping us!"

Inside the carriage, the passengers stirred.

A man in his late forties leaned forward, moving the curtain slightly. He wore thick robes and a beaded necklace that marked him as a merchant of some wealth. His neatly trimmed beard framed a worried face.

"A girl?" he muttered in disbelief.

Another guard outside shouted, "She's skilled! Hold formation, protect the carriage!"

The merchant clenched his jaw. He knew they were outnumbered, but perhaps—just perhaps—the tide had turned.

Steel clashed. Sparks flew. The young woman weaved between blades with sharp, clean movements—her footwork was elegant, like drifting wind. She slashed, parried, and countered without pause, felling another bandit with a quick twist of her sword. Blood sprayed in an arc, and still, she didn't flinch.

But for every one she struck down, two more took their place.

Her breath grew shallower. Her sleeves had long since been torn. A cut streaked her arm, red against white cloth.

The bandits had her surrounded now.

"She's slowing!" one of them shouted.

Another leapt in—only to be kicked back by her boot. She turned to block an overhead swing, but didn't see the dagger lunging from behind.

And then—

Clang!

The blade was parried at the last moment.

A figure had appeared behind her, moving with odd, almost awkward momentum. The stranger's robe was simple and travel-worn, and his hair unkempt. His eyes were half-lidded, like someone who hadn't slept well in days.

The girl blinked, surprised. "You—?"

With a deep breath, he stepped forward, placing himself beside her. His stance wasn't refined—no clear school or style. Just a body hardened by suffering and instincts honed by pain.

Still, he fought.

When his punch landed, bones cracked. When he dodged, it was barely—yet precisely—enough.

"Who the hell is this guy?!"

"He's not from any sect—kill him first!"

They came at him in a wave. Jiho gritted his teeth. His strength was already running low, his stamina unsuited for prolonged fights. His body screamed at him, and the dull ache in his spine grew worse.

He couldn't let the girl down.

His eyes flicked to the sword in her hand, to the bandits who surrounded her. He clenched his fist, trying to steady his breath.

And then—he felt it.

The poison.

That ever-present current, the sickly warmth, thrumming under his skin, pushing and pulling him to the edge. For a brief moment, the words from the Wusheng Sutra echoed in his mind: Use the venom to fuel your power. Let it guide you, but never let it consume you.

He had never tried it like this—never used the Sutra's teachings to such an extent—but in that moment, he had no choice.

Jiho's body was already overwhelmed with poison, a byproduct of years of experimentation. He had learned how to control it, how to endure. But now, there was no time to hesitate. He let go, just a little, allowing the black Qi—the Venom Qi—to surge through his veins.

His body reacted immediately. His fists hardened, veins popping beneath the skin. The sickly warmth spread outwards, suffusing his limbs, making them faster, stronger—but the cost was becoming apparent.

The acrid scent of poison filled the air. His body trembled with the strain, but the rush of power—the power he had learned to control, yet never fully mastered—was undeniable.

The bandits hesitated for a split second.

"Poison Qi?!"

Jiho surged forward, faster than he had ever moved. His fist collided with one bandit's skull—CRACK—sending him flying. Another was knocked off his feet with a single backhand. His foot crashed into another's chest with a sickening thud.

Each strike left a trail of blackened veins across his targets, his touch leaving behind burns and blisters.

"Don't let him touch you!"

But even as the bandits stumbled back in fear, Jiho could feel the poison taking its toll. His body was no longer responding in the same way. His breathing became ragged, his vision blurred. The Qi was spinning out of control, tainting his insides.

He could feel it—the Qi deviation. His core was destabilizing. If he wasn't careful, it would tear him apart.

Still, he fought.

The last of the bandits fell with a final, desperate scream. Silence washed over the battlefield.

Jiho stood amidst the bodies, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow. The ground beneath his feet felt unsteady, shifting like waves beneath a storm. His limbs trembled—not from fear, but from the backlash of power.

He had done it.

But the price was steep.

The black Qi still clung to his arms like a second skin, pulsing with malevolent life. His breath came in shallow gasps, each inhale scraping his throat like shards of glass. Inside him, the poison that had obeyed his will moments ago now raged like a wild beast, smashing against the walls of his dantian. The fine balance he had maintained was gone.

He could feel the shift—the Qi deviation had begun.

His meridians twisted, burning. His muscles spasmed. The teachings of the Wusheng Sutra of the Venom Path had warned him: "Strength drawn from venom must be tempered. Misstep, and the venom devours the vessel."

He had taken that step.

The young woman turned toward him, eyes wide in alarm. "You—what's wrong?"

Jiho looked up at her, face ashen and drenched in sweat. "You… dragged me into this… all for a single steamed bun…"

His voice cracked at the end. He tried to laugh. Tried to rise.

Failed.

His knees buckled as pain lanced up his spine. The Qi within his core spiraled violently, like a serpent gnawing its own tail. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Then—darkness.

His body collapsed, the faint shimmer of black Qi flickering across his skin like dying embers. The venom that had once empowered him now threatened to consume him entirely.