Poison God's Heritage

Chapter 879 The False Hospitality

"This 'Liberator'—do you know exactly when he'll arrive?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

The elder hesitated, his eyes drifting away for a moment before answering, "He's already a few weeks late, but he should arrive soon enough."

His voice was steady, but I sensed the underlying worry. This so-called Liberator clearly held significant power over them, but the fact that he was late could mean many things—none of them particularly good.

The elder turned toward his tribesmen, his frail hand rising in a gesture of command. "Prepare them a place to stay. Our guests come from far away. Let us ensure they are properly hosted."

The tribe leader, still visibly shaken from earlier, nodded and stepped forward. "Please, follow me," he said, his tone more respectful than before. "I'll take you to my own place."

"Let's follow them," I said through Divine Sense to my companions. "And remember—play it cool. Like mortals."

As we followed the leader through the underground town, I couldn't help but admire the ingenuity behind the way these people had adapted to their harsh environment. The town carved into the cavern walls was both practical and impressive. Lanterns hung from posts, illuminating the paths and walkways that connected the various homes and huts. Some houses were simple, built from wood and stone, while others were carved directly into the rock, creating small, enclosed spaces where families could live in relative safety.

The leader guided us up a long stone staircase that hugged the edge of the cavern wall, offering us a panoramic view of the settlement below. From this vantage point, I could see most of the lights that dotted the town, each flickering like a distant star. People moved about, tending to their daily chores—sharpening weapons, weaving cloth, or preparing meals. There was a quiet determination in their movements, a resignation that life here, underground, was the only way to survive the horrors that roamed the surface.

We soon arrived at the leader's home, a large dwelling carved deep into the wall of the cavern. It was simple but sturdy, with several rooms inside. The space was modest, with roughly hewn walls and floors of smooth stone, but it was more than adequate to host us. We were shown into a small common room with three adjoining chambers, where we settled onto wooden stools. A low, knee-high table was brought out, and shortly after, the leader's wife entered with plates of dried meat and cups of wine.

Mortal food.

"Thank you for your generosity," I said, inclining my head toward the woman. She didn't meet my gaze, keeping her eyes lowered as she backed away quickly, her hands trembling slightly as she placed the last dish on the table.

I watched her retreat with narrowed eyes, my senses heightened. Something wasn't right.

"The drink is poisoned," I said quietly as I took a sip, swirling the liquid in the cup. "But it won't affect any of you."

Meng Hao, sitting beside me, frowned. "Then why are we drinking it?" he asked through Divine Sense, his tone exasperated.

"It's a mortal poison," I explained, taking another sip and tasting the subtle bitterness beneath the wine's surface. "In large quantities, it would cause the victim to bleed from all seven orifices and shut down their nervous system entirely. But this batch is light—it's meant to relax the muscles and induce drowsiness. Nothing that could harm a cultivator."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The stranger snarled and stepped forward, grabbing

Creeping Demise

—my own sword—and pointing it at me. "No matter. It would have been easier if you were asleep, but I'll handle you all the same. I'm a Nascent Soul cultivator, and I'll—"

He never finished his sentence.

Creeping Demise

came to life in his hands, its blade splitting into nine serpent-like heads, each coiling around his arms and legs with terrifying speed. The rest of the sword snaked along his body, the serpentine heads hissing menacingly as they tightened their grip on him.

"You said you'd do what?" I asked calmly, stepping closer. "And a Nascent Soul cultivator? That's the extent of your power?"

His terror was clear now, his eyes wide with disbelief. He struggled against the weapon, but it was futile—

Creeping Demise

was a weapon far beyond his comprehension, capable of killing beings far stronger than him.

I took another step forward, my voice cold. "Tell me," I said, my eyes locking onto his. "Who is this master of yours?"

The stranger's lips pressed tightly together, defiance flickering in his eyes. He tried to struggle again, but the serpents only tightened their grip, their sharp fangs hovering dangerously close to his skin.

He bit down on something inside his mouth—a suicide pill, no doubt—but I was faster. In an instant, I shoved my hand into his mouth, crushing his teeth in the process. He gagged, choking as I pulled the remains of the pill from his throat.

"You don't get to die yet," I said coldly, releasing a drop of poison into his system to paralyze him further. His terror deepened, his body frozen in place as the poison took hold.

"Now speak," I demanded, leaning in close. "Who sent you?"

This world has many secrets, and it's about time we start exposing some of them.