Chapter 26
With each pulse, flames now spread throughout the body, causing it to writhe uncontrollably amidst its own dust and blood.
Ling Xu released her grip, letting Huan Zheng's head fall back to the ground with a thud.
Huan Zheng shivered, consciousness fading, forced to swallow the bitter reality.
His blurred eyes swept over his body, searching for something invisible, yet felt gnawing from within.
His fingers blackened as if burned, touching the surface of his chest, tracing each protruding rib that moved irregularly, seeking physical proof of the invisible torment.
Ling Xu stood above him, expression unmoved, observing Huan Zheng's futile panic.
Huan Zheng coughed, black droplets of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.
His hands clawed at the ground, trying to sense something—anything—to locate the poison.
But the only certainty found was his own skin, growing colder and stiffer, marking the gradual transformation of flesh into stone.
Ling Xu pressed down on Huan Zheng's back with calculated movements; every pressure of her foot carried meaning beyond mere force.
Beneath her seemingly harsh demeanor lay a recently revealed truth—a reality proving that presence and action could alter and dismantle every plan.
It mattered little how carefully Huan Zheng had schemed. His plan, intended to seize advantage, had nearly claimed Ling Xu's life on the edge of a sharp stone.
Even with the central penetration reaching his spine, it lay shattered, scattered in an instant.
All thanks to an unwavering vigilance, the willingness to anticipate from the start, like transparent, complete shield protection.
Aimed at defending against lurking danger.
Huan Zheng gasped under the pressure, but more painful was the strategic defeat—not merely knocked down, but overcome by someone who should have been the victim.
Greatly outwitted.
Ling Xu needed no words.
Every movement of her body spoke louder than any phrase could.
In her eyes reflected the calm of a victorious master, fully aware that success is not measured by who strikes first, but by who endures until the end.
Each pulse of the opponent's meridians trembled in pain, the body's natural cycles suddenly reversed, transforming him into an inevitable conduit of suffering.
Ling Xu remained standing atop Huan Zheng's limp back, each breath imbued with serenity.
This alone made the atmosphere increasingly tense.
The pressure from her foot was not merely physical punishment but a symbol of recognition for all that had occurred.
Ling Xu was not simply asserting involvement in Huan Zheng's current discomfort. Hidden within his suffering lay an acknowledgment—a silent vow of consent.
Nothing else could reveal a deeper truth.
The Lingxu Celestial Gift, an offering from Ling Xu to Huan Zheng long ago, had been contaminated by Mustraya poison.
The gift was meant to bear silent witness, a sign of loyalty marking the beginning of a subordinate-leader bond.
Yet a trace of poison had infiltrated, altering everything.
Mustraya was not just any poison.
Its presence went undetected, almost impossible to sense—even for cultivators of the Celestial Order's B-class. It worked silently, poisoning the mind, twisting intentions in a single step.
As a result, when Huan Zheng decided to betray, rejecting the painstakingly considered agreement, it was naïve to think such a minor choice would yield reward.
Mustraya had penetrated deeply, eroding wisdom, turning loyalty into treachery.
And Ling Xu, with eyes long open, could only witness it all unfold—a bitter irony within what should have been a sacred session of sacrifice.
Mustraya rose like a serpent's head ready to strike, its paradoxical form ever present, delighting in reflecting deceitful nature.
Its coarse roots repeatedly coiled, gripping the earth like an ancient beast, while its lush leaves hid in the underground darkness.
Reverse-engineered from typical plant growth.
Stranger still, its flower petals existed in duality, an almost impossible duality.
Some bloomed at the root exposed to air, others flourished buried deep in darkness.
Each petal radiated a dull copper hue, often shifting under the light.
Sometimes shining like aged metal, at other times darkened as if stained with dried blood. Thick stems stored golden viscous sap, the same substance that Ling Xu had meticulously refined, transforming it from a strange plant into a detectable toxin.
Even the sharpest senses of cultivators could not ignore it.
When the wind blew, Mustraya moved unnaturally. While its roots should have anchored it firmly, they trembled like a serpent's tongue dancing.
Meanwhile, underground leaves rustled, producing a whispering sound resembling malevolent whispers.
This was Mustraya's true form before being concocted into a deadly weapon.
A natural wonder, both beautiful and terrifying, perfectly reflecting the essence of poison.
Even its destruction manifested through something so gloriously displayed.
Mustraya remained a plant, despite its absurd form tearing the limits of reason.
A gaping serpent head, roots sprawling above the surface, leaves hiding in underground darkness, petals existing in two realms simultaneously.
All these traits made it a peculiarly rare mortal anomaly.
Yet amidst all strangeness, it remained part of the herbal kingdom, though at the darkest end of the natural spectrum.
Not a medicinal herb, nor a useful plant.
Mustraya existed in a category beyond the mundane, where the harm it brought surpassed all.
Even the deadliest toxins could be harnessed if processed correctly.
But not Mustraya.
It defied logic, refusing to be useful, leaving only destruction for anyone who touched it.
Ling Xu knew well that Mustraya was not merely a poison but a curse disguised as a plant.
In the wrong hands, it was no longer a weapon, but an inevitable calamity.
Mustraya thrived in swamps soaked in Heavenly Energy.
A land where even the air vibrated with deadly power.
Roughly on par with Skybright cultivators.
The dense mist enveloping the area was no ordinary water vapor but concentrated pure energy so dense it could destroy a Foundation cultivator's body in an instant.
In such a place, Mustraya grew fiercely, absorbing lethal energy from its environment, converting it into poison.
Perfecting its already vicious nature.
The fluctuations of power in the swamp pulsed wildly, like a giant heart.
Continuously pumping death.
Lower-class cultivators who dared approach would feel their joints harden, then be crushed by unbearable energy pressure.
Pitifully, their bodies could be destroyed before they even realized what had happened.
To be continued…