Living In Another World With A Farm Chapter 8462 8462: Fear (1)

Upon spotting that Feng Zhongxin was a sword cultivator, the opponents froze in shock. As typical rogue cultivators, they dreaded encountering four types the most: sword cultivators, poison cultivators, body cultivators, and disciples from various sects. These were the folks rogue cultivators hated facing, and even if they crossed paths, they'd avoid provoking them at all costs. Thus, discovering Feng Zhongxin's identity as a sword cultivator left them stunned and wavering.

Yet, a sinister gleam flickered in one man's eyes, and he bellowed, "Why fear him? He's merely a sword cultivator. What harm can a sword cultivator inflict on us? Besides, he's just a rogue sword cultivator, and he'd need a proper inheritance to matter. Once we slay them, all their possessions become ours. Attack!"

His words first left the group momentarily dazed, but soon their gazes turned savage. They charged at the pair with weapons drawn. Clearly, they were seasoned in slaughter and robbery. Though Feng Zhongxin's sword cultivator status had sparked some caution, true fear didn't grip them. With their leader's encouragement, their ruthless side surged forth.

Feng Zhongxin's face darkened at their aggressive stance. He prepared to act, but Zhao Hai's calm voice interrupted: "Big brother Feng, hold on. They pose no threat to us." The steady tone carried weight that baffled Feng Zhongxin, who shot Zhao Hai a puzzled glance, unsure of his intent.

Zhao Hai remained silent, simply tilting his head toward the oncoming attackers. Feng Zhongxin followed his gaze and froze, his features twisting in alarm. The men's faces had blackened entirely—not from rage, but a genuine, eerie darkness that made their skin horrifying. As a veteran rogue cultivator, Feng Zhongxin instantly recognized the signs of poisoning.

Strangely, the assailants showed no awareness, pressing their assault. But at about three meters' distance, their eyes bulged, and they vomited blood. Their bodies crumpled forward, lifeless on the spot.

Gazing at the eight corpses sprawled before him, Feng Zhongxin shivered from head to toe, his scalp tingling with dread. Zhao Hai had mentioned his poison expertise earlier, but Feng Zhongxin dismissed it as basic knowledge. Today's display shattered that notion entirely.

These eight likely weren't poisoned during any clash; it happened while he conversed with them. He couldn't pinpoint when Zhao Hai struck, and neither could they. Realization probably hit only in their final moments. The sheer terror of it all.

Feng Zhongxin gaped at the bodies, speechless. Zhao Hai approached, rifled through their belongings, then rejoined him. Snapping out of it, Feng Zhongxin stared blankly, his face shifting through emotions. Finally, he exhaled deeply and muttered, "Impressive, brother Zou. Your poison skills are truly remarkable."

"Nothing special. Let's head back, big brother Feng," Zhao Hai replied with a grin. Naturally, he kept his motives hidden from Feng Zhongxin. Deploying poison this time aimed to showcase his prowess. Sensing Feng Zhongxin's hidden agenda, this served as a stark warning. If Feng Zhongxin backed off wisely, fine. Otherwise, consequences would follow.

Zhao Hai remained unaware of the wind messengers' true purpose. Had he known they sought the Ghostwind Bandits' treasure, he'd have eliminated them outright. Though the treasure's location eluded him, he understood treasure hunters wouldn't spare rivals easily. Especially after a millennium-long pursuit, it had rooted deep as an unbreakable fixation.

Feng Zhongxin eyed Zhao Hai warily. Anxiety gnawed at him now. With such masterful poison control, clashing with Zhao Hai spelled disaster. He recoiled at the thought. Was antagonizing this foe truly wise? Tempting as the treasure was, survival trumped it.

Though his thoughts raced, Feng Zhongxin concealed them, nodding at Zhao Hai. "Sure, let's return. This spot's turned dangerous; no lingering here." He trailed Zhao Hai, soaring toward the blood sea's surface. Moments later, they vanished into its depths. The corpses? He spared them no thought. Burying them wasn't their concern.

Soon after their departure, several figures emerged near the bodies. The sight drew sharp intakes of breath, their faces twisting in grim disgust. They easily discerned death by poison, fueling their unease.

One spoke up: "A true poison master indeed. No clue how he administered it, though—we watched from afar without spotting a thing. Back we go; grill Feng Zhongxin for details. We must inform brother Wen right away. Move." The group agreed, ascending swiftly. Even Wang Liang stayed mute. Hot-tempered as he was, he wasn't foolish. A body cultivator like him still feared poison deeply. Crossing those men meant peril.

In a haze, Feng Zhongxin escorted Zhao Hai to Blood Lake Island. He suggested Zhao Hai rest; their outing had dragged on till dusk, delaying sales till morning. Zhao Hai agreed without fuss, retiring to his quarters.

Feng Zhongxin headed to his inn and straight to Wen Liren's room. A knock brought Wen Liren's prompt reply: "Zhongxin, you're back. Enter." Feng Zhongxin complied, pausing in surprise at the gathering of most comrades inside.

Feng Zhongxin hurried to tidy up and took a seat at Wen Liren's gesture. Wen Liren fixed him with a gaze. "Zhongxin, spill it—what happened after you left with Zou Xiao today? Gauge his power? Especially those poison abilities?"

Feng Zhongxin nodded wryly, his tone grave. "Blood jade flowers fetched high prices on the market, so I planned to take him picking to build rapport. Things went well initially; we gathered plenty. But crowds swelled, stripping the flowers fast. As we turned to leave, a group blocked us. I held back Zou Xiao at first, aiming just to bond, not probe him—suspicion could've ruined it. Future chances abounded, so I flashed my sword cultivator status to intimidate them into backing off. Unexpectedly, they didn't flinch and lunged. Then Zhao Hai struck somehow. No idea when or with what toxin, but as they closed in, they dropped dead from poison."

Wen Liren blinked in astonishment at Feng Zhongxin's account, then probed uncertainly, "So you mean you have no inkling of his method? No visible action? Not poison techniques, then?" He doubted the tale; it sounded too outlandish.

Feng Zhongxin gave a bitter chuckle. "No poison techniques apparent, and I caught nothing of his move—nor its timing. I exchanged words with them, they drew weapons for assault, but about ten feet out, they collapsed, blackening and spewing blood. No trace of how the poison entered. It all unfolded in a flash."

Feng Zhongxin's recounting sent shivers through him anew. The listeners shared the sentiment, catching the raw disbelief and terror in his voice. Wang Liang and the corpse-viewers felt icy dread too.

Wen Liren's look shifted uneasily. After a pause, he furrowed his brow. "Looks like Zou Xiao wasn't bluffing—poison mastery for real. This complicates things. Ideas on handling him, anyone?" The dilemma weighed heavy; an unseen poisoner like this proved a nightmare foe. One slip, and lives hung in balance.

Feng Zhongxin and the rest fell quiet. Truth be told, such an enigmatic adversary left them stumped. His strikes came too unpredictably. Forewarned, defenses could form—but blind? It courted death.

Wen Liren growled deeply, "Regardless, here's the plan. Zhongxin, keep cozying up; seek chances to spike his drink or similar. Anyone know countermeasures for a poison whiz? Even non-lethal drugs work—dig up antidote intel too. We end this fast. With our numbers, Zou Xiao can't hold out—I refuse to believe otherwise!"