Cultivation Begins with Skill Points-Chapter 41 What’s Wrong with a Medicine Seller Who Can Make Some Poison

Chapter 41: Chapter 41 What’s Wrong with a Medicine Seller Who Can Make Some Poison

At the exit, Yun Ye was bowing his head, wiping the long sword in his hand, indifferent to Zhong Lin’s departure and the two groups of people following behind him, as if nothing had happened.

Zhong Lin walked quickly through the dense forest, glancing at the shadows behind him from the corner of his eyes.

"So they’ve come after all? Do they really think they can mess with me without consequence?" A sinister look flashed across Zhong Lin’s face.

With a thought, he suddenly sped up and disappeared at a fork in the road.

"Not good, we’ve been discovered, chase!"

Dong Yan of the Black Tiger Gang’s face changed, and he no longer cared about hiding as he started sprinting.

The four men behind him didn’t reply but had already quickened their pace.

Dong Yan was the fastest; his towering height running like a bear in the mountain exuded an oppressive force.

The four men behind him were only slightly slower, indicating all of them were proficient martial artists.

On the other side, Shouhou brought seven people tightly trailing behind, their speeds mixed, with some fast and some slow.

Dong Yan chased over a hundred meters, and after turning a corner, found that Zhong Lin’s figure had disappeared.

His brows furrowed, and his face turned unpleasant.

"Damn it, spread out and chase, I don’t believe he can fly."

Whiz!

A piercing sound cut through the air, and before they could react, an arrow shot out from the dense forest at a strange angle.

"An arrow? What a pesky little rat."

A savage smile filled Dong Yan’s face; he showed no concern for the arrow, his Eighth Rank cultivation made his muscles and bones strong, his skin like armor, fearing nothing unless it was an Eight-stone Strong Bow or a Divine Arm Crossbow, neither of which could break his defenses.

He raised his hand to deflect the incoming arrow, only to see it curve unusually in front of him, shooting straight at a short man to his left.

Thud!

With a muffled sound and eyes wide with disbelief, the arrow pierced right through the eye socket of the short man, going straight through his skull.

Dead beyond doubt.

Whiz! Whiz! Whiz!

Dong Yan’s face finally changed; he shouted, "Everyone be careful."

Before he finished speaking, his body moved and dodged, his palm smacking at the swiftly approaching arrows.

Martial artists excel at locating the source of sounds; with preparation, they can easily avoid an archer’s hidden arrow shot.

The other three men, using either a knife or sword, did the same. Although the arrows could curve, it was only a slight hassle.

Atop a distant tree, Zhong Lin lowered the iron mold bow in his hand with regret.

"As my strength improved, the effectiveness of the bow and arrow became smaller and smaller."

Ninth Grade martial artists, as long as they avoided their weak spots, ordinary arrows could no longer break their defenses.

Eighth Rank martial artists had strong bones and muscles, explosive power, and keen senses; arrows couldn’t even reach them.

Zhong Lin had never seen a Seventh Grade martial artist, but he assumed they would be even more invulnerable.

Thump!

A gentle sound was heard, and a tall, thin man behind Dong Yan suddenly fell, froth foaming from his mouth.

"The arrows... they’re poisoned."

Only then did everyone notice that the man’s clothing at the chest was torn open, revealing a shallow wound on the exposed skin, clearly from a stray arrow scratch during evasion, yet the wound was dark blue, with a foul-smelling black blood seeping out.

Such a potent poison.

Just a single wound, yet it claimed a life.

"Ah... I will kill you."

Dong Yan roared to the sky, his body filled with a cold murderous intent.

What was supposed to be a cat and mouse game had already taken two lives before they even saw their prey.

Swish!

Suddenly, a handful of lime powder fell from above, obscuring the vision, enveloping Dong Yan and the remaining two men.

"Windbreaker."

A thrumming sound was heard, and Dong Yan, his sight obstructed, instinctively dodged, and his hands, black as refined iron, fiercely grasped.

Dong Yan’s cultivation technique was called "Mixed Iron Palm," most of his skills relied on his hands, plus he was an Eighth Rank martial artist with five hundred pounds of force, capable of breaking stone with his iron palms.

Even with his sight obscured, Dong Yan had already judged Zhong Lin’s position through sound; a sinister smile appeared on his lips, and he exerted force fiercely.

"Die for me."

But instantly, his expression changed drastically, as he felt a great force on the opponent’s hand rivaling his own, rendering him immobile, his previously steady breath now erratic.

"You’re an Eighth Rank too? What a fragrance... poison, despicable."

Thinking of a strategy, Dong Yan suddenly smelled a fragrance, followed by dizziness, realizing immediately that the lime powder was mixed with some kind of anesthetic.

Crack!

With the sound of bones snapping, Dong Yan’s right arm was directly twisted off by Zhong Lin.

Even so, Zhong Lin didn’t let up, the ghost head blade in his right hand swiveled, a white light flashed, Dong Yan’s head flew up into the air, and a white streak of blood shot out from his neck, jetting out several feet before falling to the ground.

By this time, the lime powder had settled, and everyone’s vision returned to clarity, only to see the first thing with their eyes open was their leader’s head, eyes wide in death.

"Boss Dong."

The remaining two men exclaimed, their hearts filled with fear, yet they hadn’t forgotten the crisis at hand.

Zhong Lin waved the ghost head blade in his hand, blood dripping down the groove, and strode forward without pause.

By now, the two remaining were scared out of their wits, with their Eighth Rank leader being decapitated, they had no courage left to continue fighting and simply turned to flee.

Yet, just a few steps in, they felt dizzy and weak in the limbs.

"It’s poisoned."

Zhong Lin, holding the ghost head blade, approached continuously, saying with a sly smile, "I’m just a pharmacist making some poison, what’s wrong with that? It’s not unreasonable."

Thud!

The blade flashed, a head flew off, and blood splattered like a fountain.

The last surviving man’s face was full of fear, continuously pleading, "Spare me... spare me... I have money, spare me..."

Zhong Lin didn’t respond, just another swing of his blade, and another head was lost.

The world became quiet.

"Fools, kill you, and the money is mine anyways." Zhong Lin murmured.

He bent down to wipe his blood-stained hand on the opponent’s clothes, then stood up decisively.

The entire process was one-sided and took only a few breaths, yet this was simulated countless times before in his mind.

This section of the trail, Zhong Lin had explored numerous times, determining where to hide, ambush, escape, and where to fight back...

These were all simulated by Zhong Lin’s meticulous planning.

"Either don’t make a move, or eradicate them completely. Since they wanted me dead, I might as well let them die first."

Zhong Lin’s voice was low, full of coldness.