The Venomous Board Begins to Move

The night air over the Tang Clan was unusually silent.

After the subtle maneuver that led to Outer Disciple Jin Moku's fall, Tang Yun sat alone within the Poison Courtyard, sipping on a bitter infusion made from Nightshade Root and Stargrass. The concoction was enough to kill a Foundation Realm cultivator, yet in his blood, it merely hummed a lullaby to the 100 Poison Body he now possessed.

His breakthrough to the mid-level of the Qi Awakening Realm had not been earth-shaking. It was silent, internal, and carefully suppressed. No outward light, no trembling ground just a quiet evolution hidden behind calm, calculating eyes.

He had spent three nights consolidating the Poison Veins and aligning the newfound traits of his toxic constitution. He no longer needed to cultivate poison his very breath emitted it in a near-invisible vapor.

That morning, three black sparrows lay dead at the edge of the courtyard.

None dared question why.

The First Move: A Message in Silk

An anonymous letter arrived on his windowsill, wrapped in green silk and folded precisely seven times. This was not a random act. In the Tang Clan, there existed an old codex of silent communication seven folds meant a warning or an invitation, depending on who sent it.

Tang Yun opened the silk. The paper inside smelled faintly of powdered Blood Ivy, a poison that caused hallucinations in weak minds but acted as a truth enhancer to those of strong will.

The message read:

"There is movement among the Ashveil Mercenaries. Meet at the Abandoned Wind Pavilion at the rat's hour."

No name. No signature. But the reference to Ashveil Mercenaries was no small matter. They had long been a neutral force at the edge of Tang territory, hired blades known for keeping secrets.

Tang Yun's fingers tapped the paper, absorbing the hint of Blood Ivy. Then he burned it without a word.

Time to test his pawns.

The Venomous Trio Moves

Tang Yun had selected three pawns in the last month, cultivating them with care and deception.

1. Zhou Ping – An Outer Disciple known for his gambling debts. Loyal to coin and favors.

2. Mei Lin – A discarded alchemy student who failed her trials twice. Now employed secretly in Tang Yun's private herb storage.

3. Little Iron – A mute boy servant, underestimated by all, but with perfect memory and swift feet.

He gave each of them a task:

Zhou Ping would attend the local tavern and spread a rumor that the Tang Clan had begun testing disciples for secret inheritance techniques.

Mei Lin would deliver a package to a low-tier Elder, designed to provoke curiosity and suspicion a bottle containing a dormant drop of Violetbone Toxin.

Little Iron would go ahead to the Wind Pavilion and observe from the shadows.

None of them knew the full picture.

Only Tang Yun did.

The Wind Pavilion Trap

At the rat's hour between midnight and two Tang Yun approached the Wind Pavilion.

The structure was ancient, no longer maintained, with torn silken banners and shattered tile flooring. But its location provided three escape routes and overlooked a cliff, making it ideal for both ambush and negotiation.

Little Iron waited near the cliffside. He bowed upon seeing Tang Yun and handed him a carved wooden token.

"Someone left this hanging inside the pavilion," the boy signed with his fingers.

Tang Yun studied it. The carving showed the sigil of a fox wrapped in brambles the emblem of the Crimson Fox Pavilion, a shadow organization infamous for trading information, assassination contracts, and lost martial manuals.

"An information dealer," Tang Yun muttered. "Or someone pretending to be one."

He stepped inside.

The scent hit first not of poison, but jasmine. Delicate, fragrant, layered. Someone wanted to give an illusion of safety.

A woman sat beneath the broken beam of the ceiling. Cloaked in red, her lower face veiled, eyes glinting with moonlight.

"You came," she said.

"I always come when rats whisper," Tang Yun replied coolly.

"You're smaller than I expected."

"And you're less subtle than I feared."

She chuckled. "You poisoned your own courtyard guards, did you not?"

"They shouldn't breathe in my presence if they're weak."

There was a pause. Then the woman tossed a scroll forward. Tang Yun caught it with two fingers.

"Those who hired the Ashveil Mercenaries are planning something," she said. "There is talk of an external alliance to pressure the Tang Clan. Not directly subtly. Through trade interference. Espionage. Poison theft."

Tang Yun unrolled the scroll. A map of border trade routes with marked points interception lines, supply caches, weak posts.

"Why tell me?"

"Because you're not like the others. And because I want to see who dies first your enemies, or you."

He looked up, eyes glinting. "What's your name?"

"Call me Yue. That's enough for now."

She vanished a moment later into the fog that began creeping over the cliffs.

Tang Yun stared at the map.

Then he smiled.

Strategic Ripples

The next morning, Zhou Ping had successfully spread the inheritance rumor. As expected, some inner disciples began growing restless.

Mei Lin's delivery stirred Elder Tang Buwei, a minor elder known for his ambition and paranoia. He immediately demanded to know who sent him the toxin, drawing suspicion away from Tang Yun.

Little Iron reported that Yue's scent had included traces of Wild Flame Orchid—meaning she had connections to the southern herbalists' sects, possibly even the Crimson Fox Pavilion itself.

Tang Yun sat at his desk, drawing lines across the map.

He began marking positions, calculating timing, predicting reactions.

If someone truly was forming an external threat be it clan or sect he would let them make the first strike.

Then he would cut out their tongue and send it back in a gilded box.

He needed a stage. He needed chaos. He needed fear.

Three Nights Later: The Poisoned Bell Ritual

Once a month, the Tang Clan held the Poisoned Bell Ritual, where disciples displayed new techniques or advancements. A chance to impress elders or eliminate rivals.

Tang Yun appeared for the first time in three years.

He wore simple robes. No family crest. No dramatic entrance.

He simply walked to the ring when his name was called.

A chuckle swept through the courtyard.

"Has the Rotten Root come to die?" someone whispered.

Tang Yun stood opposite a junior inner disciple named Tang Shao known for his brute strength and heavy bone palm arts. Already late Meridian Opening Realm.

"Let's finish this quickly," Shao grinned.

The duel began.

Tang Yun didn't move.

Tang Shao rushed forward, qi surging.

At the last moment, Tang Yun tilted his head.

The ground cracked not from Tang Shao's strike but from his own step. He twisted, touched his opponent's forearm with a single finger.

Shao roared. Then froze.

His limbs locked. His breath faltered.

The poison was called Dust Cicada's Kiss fast, soundless, paralyzing.

Tang Yun whispered, "You should have asked why the sparrows died."

The elders stood.

Voices rose. But no one stopped the duel.

Tang Shao collapsed.

Tang Yun turned without bowing. As he left the ring, Elder Tang Mo's lips twitched into the faintest smile.

A monster was awakening.

Elsewhere: Unseen Eyes

In a distant estate lit by crimson lanterns, a man in white robes watched a shadow report.

"The twelfth son moves. He's not what he was."

The robed man nodded. "Send the wandering brother. Let him test the waters. If the Poison Clan has grown a new fang, I want to see its length."

The shadow bowed and vanished.

War was not yet upon them.

But the board had been set.

And Tang Yun? He had already made his first check.

[Tags]: Reincarnation, Martial Arts, Poison, Scheming Protagonist, Cultivation, Weak to Strong, Anti-Hero, Cold Protagonist, Clan Wars, Hidden Identity, Revenge