The Poison Test

Yu Zitong was confident in his words. He did not believe anyone could resist the temptation of attaining immortality and eternal life.

Back then, Doctor Mo had hated him to the bone, yet under the same persuasion, he had still cooperated obediently. He was certain that with just a little more sweetening, Han Li would fall into line.

But Yu Zitong was disappointed. After hearing his tempting speech, Han Li did not show excitement. Instead, his face remained calm, as if the words had stirred no ripple in his heart.

“As for cooperation, I will consider it later. But for now, I still have a question. I hope you can answer it.” Han Li stared at the orb of light with clear eyes and said softly.

“If I answer this question, will you agree to cooperate?”

“That depends on whether your answer satisfies me.”

“Good. Ask.” Yu Zitong agreed bluntly, showing that he understood the principle of “when under someone else’s roof, one must lower one’s head” all too well.

Han Li did not speak immediately. Instead, he lifted his head and gazed at the ceiling, lost in thought for a moment, as if considering the best way to phrase his question.

Yu Zitong grew nervous at the other’s solemn demeanor, muttering inwardly, wondering what sort of headache-inducing question Han Li would ask.

“I want to know—after I devoured part of Doctor Mo’s and your Primordial Souls in return, what side effects would there be? My head feels somewhat swollen and painful, as if many things have been added. But I cannot retrieve them. Is there anything wrong?” Han Li finally voiced the concern that had been troubling him since waking.

Upon hearing this, Yu Zitong realized the other was only worried about a minor issue. His heart immediately relaxed, and even his tone became lighter.

“Hehe! So that’s it. Brother, you worry too much. No need to dwell on it at all. The things stuffed into your mind will slowly fade away on their own within a year or two. You don’t have to do a thing.”

“So you’re saying that devouring all this was completely useless? Nothing at all can be kept? I find that hard to believe.” Han Li cast a suspicious glance at the other, deliberately showing distrust.

“To say nothing can be kept at all—that’s not entirely true either. But indeed, very little remains.” Yu Zitong quickly explained, afraid of being misunderstood.

“The memories, experiences, and emotions contained in it—you cannot touch any of them. If you absorb them, at best you become an idiot or develop a split personality; at worst, your mind overloads and your brain bursts, killing you. Understand, the Primordial Soul is the most delicate thing. You cannot casually fuse it with other things. Devouring another’s Primordial Soul and temporarily storing it in your mind is possible, but turning it into your own—that is a fantasy. Otherwise, with a single possession, you could gain the other’s experience, memory, and techniques. The world would fall into chaos. Who would still honestly train to comprehend realms and mental methods? One possession would grant everything.”

“The only thing in a devoured Primordial Soul that can be utilized is a trace of Origin Power (本源之力). This substance can slightly strengthen one’s own soul. But it’s only that little bit, because this kind of thing leaks away the fastest. Within a few days, it will drain completely from the devoured Primordial Soul and can no longer be used.”

Han Li listened to Yu Zitong’s explanation, and with each word, the last thread of worry in his heart slackened.

He could tell the other was not lying. At this moment, Yu Zitong was surely thinking about cooperating with Han Li just as he had with Doctor Mo. Naturally, he would not deceive him on a question that time would soon expose.

After Yu Zitong finished his explanation, he saw Han Li nod, apparently believing what he had said. Joy surged in his heart, and the light orb of his Primordial Soul seemed to brighten. He asked eagerly, “Brother Han, you seem satisfied with my explanation. Now, shouldn’t we discuss the cooperation between us?”

“Of course. Cooperating with an immortal cultivator would be a pleasure I could only hope for.” Han Li suddenly broke into a smile, revealing bright white teeth that gleamed, seeming utterly sincere.

“Really?” Yu Zitong grew excited. He hadn’t even had to persuade the other—he had already agreed. He quickly sought confirmation.

“Certainly.” Han Li’s reply came swiftly, crisp and clear.

Then, still smiling, he pulled something from his bosom and said in a friendly tone, “Since we are now partners, before we discuss specifics, you wouldn’t mind cooperating with a small experiment, would you?”

“Experiment?” Yu Zitong paused. He stared at the cylinder in Han Li’s hand. It looked very familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before. A sense of foreboding welled up inside him.

“That’s right. A poison test.”

Before his words faded, Han Li’s thumb moved on the cylinder. A stream of black, sticky liquid shot out, carrying a foul, rotting stench, straight toward its target.

“Ah!”

Yu Zitong’s scream came from the light orb. His Primordial Soul had been drenched in the black liquid. The green light flickered violently and dimmed considerably. He had clearly suffered severe damage.

“You… you struck me! Attacked me by surprise?” Yu Zitong’s voice screeched, hysterical, as if unable to accept what had just happened.

Han Li ignored the other’s fury. He reached down and grabbed the buckle of his belt above his abdomen. With a “shih” sound, he drew a gleaming sword from the hidden compartment in his belt.

This sword was as wide as a finger joint, about a foot and a half long, and utterly flexible—a rare “Jade Belt Short Sword” (玉带短剑).

This was the last short sword Han Li had commissioned from a blacksmith at great expense, and also the most costly one. But he was not skilled with such weapons, so he had never used it before. He never expected it to come in handy now.

Han Li held the weapon, which had been hidden on his person all along but had nearly never seen use. His face darkened; the earlier smile was gone without a trace.

With a look of revulsion, he glanced at the still-trembling light orb of the Primordial Soul. Without another word, he stepped forward and hacked at the orb with all his might, swinging the flexible sword like a cleaver.