Chapter 68: Warning (III)

When they had first accepted the task, their only intention was to break her legs, sever her hands, rip out her tongue, slice off her ears, and gouge out her eyes—then seal her, a mutilated wretch, inside a clay jar. Yet now, before even touching the hem of her garment, they had been reduced to nothing, toyed with and utterly destroyed with ease.

All the world knew that the heir of the An family beneath the night moon was a peerless divine physician, her medical skills so extraordinary that so long as breath yet lingered, if the master of the An family extended a hand, not even the King of Hell would dare claim the patient’s life.

Indeed, it was so.

Yet, in truth, every An family successor, aside from their astonishing talent for healing, was secretly gifted in the art of poison—both its making and its use. Medicine and poison are but two branches of the same tree; they share the same root. This is why the heir of the An family is said to have the power to bring the dead back to life.

An Ran was a prodigy among prodigies. If her medical skills could be described as exquisite, then her mastery of poison was beyond compare. Her toxins were even more lethal than the most infamous “Death’s Scattering Powder” in the martial world. For those she wished to kill, she would first ensure they suffered agony beyond imagining.

With a mere gesture, An Ran used a teacup to unlock the man’s acupoints, and he collapsed helplessly to the floor. Still dazed by shock and terror, his limbs were limp; he could not even summon the strength to stand.

“Have you seen enough?” An Ran’s voice was as warm as sunlight in March, yet it made the man tense in an instant. His eyes widened with dread as he shook his head and crawled toward her, using his hands in place of his feet.

As she watched him inch closer, she noticed the plea in his eyes.

Rising, An Ran strode over to him, her steps unhurried. She looked down at him and spoke softly, “Rest assured, I won’t let you suffer the same torment as your companions.”

At these words, the man’s face lit up, and he knocked his head against the floor three times in gratitude.

An Ran gazed at this man, stripped of all dignity, and her eyes brimmed with contempt. She had thought he might possess a shred of backbone, but it was clear he had merely been stubborn in the face of death before.

She bent down slightly, her lips as delicate as cherry blossoms parting gently. “Is it your greatest wish that I spare your life?”

The man nodded desperately, as if afraid that a moment’s delay would cause her to change her mind.

But suddenly, he dropped his gaze. His hands, propping him up on the ground, began to wither before his very eyes—shriveling and growing taut, yet without any pain. He could see a faint mist and a bloody vapor rising from the flesh. Then, he felt it: the sensation started at his toes, crawling up his ankles, shins, knees, thighs, waist, chest... Every inch of his skin withered away with the passing of time, until only a thin layer of skin clung to his wasted frame.

An Ran nodded with satisfaction, then drew a small bottle from her sleeve and sprinkled a little powder over him. The withering halted just as it reached his neck.

The man, clinging to his final breath, stared wide-eyed at An Ran, terror etched in every feature as though he had seen a ghost.

He knew now—this woman before him was not someone they could ever hope to contend with. Her poisons were unlike anything he had ever heard of or seen. They had not seen the faintest trace of powder, only caught the slightest scent of osmanthus, and already they had collapsed. Even when his companions were poisoned, he had felt fine. As for the poison coursing through him—when had she administered it?

He was afraid now, truly and utterly afraid, shaken to his core. Never again would he dare make an enemy of one such as her.

ps: The death doesn’t seem dramatic enough… Perhaps it should have been even more gruesome…