37: A dead end? No, it's a blessed land.
Three hundred li west of Southern Commandery City, the colors of heaven and earth seemed to be wiped away by an invisible hand, leaving only a withered, yellowish-gray hue.
The air grew thick and humid, no longer crisp and clear, but instead carried a cloyingly sweet, fishy stench that made one's chest tight and breath short.
Ahead, a wall of Five-colored Miasma stretched from earth to sky, barring the horizon, separating the world of the living from the land of death.
This was the Black Marsh.
Legend has it that in ancient times, a Poisonous Flood Dragon fell here. Its rotting corpse transformed into a thousand-li marsh, breeding countless venomous insects and demonic creatures. The Five-colored Miasma that never dissipates would cause a Mortal's lungs and organs to rot with just one breath; even cultivators dared not venture in without protective anti-toxin pills.
Creak—
Creak—
On the ancient wilderness path, a wheelbarrow covered with tattered burlap groaned under its burden.
Lin Que raised his eyes, gazing at the terrifying poisonous miasma, a flicker of greed flashing deep in his pupils.
In the eyes of others, this was a dead end with no chance of survival.
But to him, who possessed [Karma Transference], this sky full of deadly miasma was clearly an inexhaustible resource for cultivation.
Inside his sleeve, a Talisman painted with a ghostly face trembled slightly, transmitting the Red-clothed Female Ghost's shivering Divine Thought:
"M-Master... this place has too much Yang Evil Qi, like oil on a raging fire... I... I can't hold on much longer..."
"Shut up, guard your mind."
Lin Que lifted a finger and lightly flicked his sleeve. "If we encounter any living people later, don't give us away."
After calming the fierce ghost in his sleeve and pressing down the restless Heavenly Demon Ferret in his arms that wanted to come out treasure hunting, Lin Que pushed the wheelbarrow again, staggering step by step toward the entrance of the Black Marsh.
However, the only path leading to the Black Marsh was now blocked by a checkpoint.
Three thick, dead logs lay across the road, next to which stood a bloodstained wooden sign bearing the words **"Leave Your Wealth."**
Beneath the sign sat four burly men clad in animal hides, their bodies radiating Evil Qi. They made no effort to conceal their auras—all were at the Early Stage of the Origin Opening Realm, and the dark red bloodstains on their weapons had not yet dried.
"The Four Evils of the Black Marsh."
A group of Robber Cultivators who made a living without capital on the fringes of dangerous lands, notorious for bullying the weak and fearing the strong.
At that moment, they were surrounding two young Loose Cultivators, a man and a woman.
"No Spirit Stones?"
The one-eyed leader sneered, kicking the male cultivator who tried to argue, sending him flying back with a spray of blood:
"No Spirit Stones and you dare come to the Black Marsh to search for herbs? I think you're tired of living! Since you have no money, leave the female cultivator to entertain us brothers as the toll!"
"Brilliant, Big Brother!" The other three Robber Cultivators let out a lewd chorus of laughter, reaching out to grab the female cultivator, whose face had turned deathly pale with fear.
Just then.
"Cough... cough cough..."
A series of heart-wrenching coughs abruptly pierced the lascivious atmosphere.
The Robber Cultivators paused, turning to look.
They saw an old man reeking of strong medicinal dregs and the stench of corpses, pushing a broken cart, trembling as he shuffled over.
The smell, carried by the wind for ten zhang, was even more pungent than the rotting sludge of the Black Marsh.
"What damn bad luck!"
The one-eyed leader covered his nose and mouth, frowning deeply. "Where did this old plague ghost come from? This stench is rancid!"
Lin Que stopped, hunched over, hands tucked into his sleeves, putting on a frail, elderly appearance:
"S-sirs... please make way... this old man is here to dump... dump medicinal dregs for a big shot in the city..."
"Medicinal dregs?"
The one-eyed leader's gaze turned sinister as he sized up Lin Que.
Full of Death Qi, no spiritual fluctuations at all, aside from the broken cart and a dusty, low-grade Storage Pouch at his waist, his entire appearance screamed poverty.
"Dump my ass! Get lost!"
The one-eyed leader was about to wave him away when his eyes swept over the bulging burlap sacks on the wheelbarrow and Lin Que's Storage Pouch. A flash of malice gleamed in his eyes.
Even a mosquito's leg has meat.
Since this old thing was running errands for a big shot, he might have some spare silver or Spirit Stones as rewards hidden on him.
"Wait!"
The leader blocked the path with his Serrated Blade:
"If you want to pass, you follow the rules. Leave the Storage Pouch, and all these sacks on the cart—leave them all for me to inspect!"
Lin Que trembled, appearing even more timid:
"S-sir, have mercy... this Storage Pouch only has a few Low-Grade Spirit Stones, this old man's burial money... As for the cart, it's loaded with the toxic residues of failed Medicinal Pills. Touch them, and your flesh will rot and bones erode. You must not touch them..."
The more he said this, the greedier the one-eyed leader's eyes became.
Toxic pill residues?
In the black market, some high-grade toxic residues could fetch a price!
"Enough nonsense! I was playing with poisons when you were still in your mother's womb!"
The one-eyed leader impatiently stepped forward, grabbed Lin Que by the collar, threw him aside, then reached to untie the largest burlap sack on the wheelbarrow.
The other three Robber Cultivators also gathered around, wearing expressions of amusement, not taking this "decrepit" old man seriously at all.
Lin Que staggered a few steps, retreating into the withered grass by the roadside.
His lowered eyelids hid the cold glint that flashed in his eyes, his lips moving silently as he uttered two words:
"Fools."
"Big Brother, be careful," a subordinate reminded.
"Scared of what? Fortune favors the bold!"
The one-eyed leader grinned ferociously, yanking open the sack's rope.
Whoosh—!
No imagined glow of gold or treasure appeared.
As the sack opened, a cloud of black-yellow dust, visible to the naked eye, surged out like a malevolent spirit imprisoned for a thousand years, propelled by the airflow, directly rushing toward the four men!
This was Lin Que's specially prepared "Enhanced Version"—a mixture of Fire Toxin Waste Pill Powder and Rotten Corpse and Bone Ash.
"Cough cough!!"
The one-eyed leader bore the brunt, inhaling a large mouthful.
"What the hell is this?! Ah!! My eyes!!"
Screams instantly pierced the wilderness silence.
The one-eyed leader covered his face, frantically retreating, black blood seeping between his fingers. The flesh on his face blistered and festered at a visible rate, emitting a sizzling corrosive sound.
The other three, though farther away, also inhaled some of the dust, each clutching their throats, bending over in pain.
Now was the time.
The "Sick Ghost Old Man" who had fallen into the grass suddenly took a deep breath.
This breath was extremely long and deep, as if it were the sweetest nectar in the world.
The surrounding toxic powder, along with the Five-colored Miasma drifting from the direction of the Black Marsh, was sucked in by him, forming a visible vortex that vanished into his nostrils and mouth!
[High-concentration mixed deadly toxins detected!]
[Composition: Fire Evil Pill Toxin, Rotten Corpse Yin Evil, Five-colored Miasma.]
[Drawback Eruption: Respiratory tract incineration, blindness, organ failure, Divine Soul agony!]
[Targets Locked: The Four Evils of the Black Marsh (Malice Value 95%).]
[Transference Initiated! Multiplier: Full Coverage!]
Lin Que's chest swelled high. The deadly toxins that would kill an ordinary person instantly circulated within his body, their toxicity forcibly transferred by the System, transforming into strands of extremely pure Origin Qi that nourished his Dantian.
As for those lethal side effects... "Ugh..."
The three Robber Cultivators who were about to circulate their spiritual power to suppress the toxins suddenly stiffened.
They hadn't touched the core area of the toxic powder.
But now, they felt as if a ladle of molten iron had been poured down their throats!
"Fire... there's fire in my belly..."
"I can't see... my eyes..."
Fear instantly overwhelmed their reason.
They horrifyingly discovered that the spiritual power within their bodies was draining away madly, their internal organs wracked with tearing pain, as if their bodies were melting from the inside!
Thud! Thud!
The four road tyrants who had been so arrogant moments ago now writhed and convulsed in the mud like stranded fish, their nails digging deep into the soil, unable to make a sound.
In just ten breaths.
Four corpses lay quietly on the ground, their bodies swollen and purplish-black, black blood oozing from their seven orifices, emitting a nauseating stench.
Silent killing, without shedding blood.
The two young Loose Cultivators who had thought they were doomed were already scared Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering, collapsing to the ground, teeth chattering as they watched this scene.
In their eyes, that hunched-over old man was now more terrifying than any demon in the Black Marsh.
He hadn't even moved a finger!
He merely opened a sack, took a deep breath, and these four notorious bullies all died violently?!
"Cough..."
Lin Que slowly stood up from the grass, brushed the dust off his clothes, and resumed his trembling, frail appearance.
He walked over to the four corpses, his murky gaze sweeping over the two terrified Loose Cultivators:
"Young ones... the Black Marsh is dangerous, full of toxins. Next time you go out... remember to keep your eyes open and judge people wisely."
After speaking, he bent down.
His withered hand swept seemingly casually among the corpses.
Four Storage Pouches, along with the four Serrated Blades that looked like they could still be reforged, instantly vanished.
After doing this, Lin Que retied the sack that was still emitting faint toxic smoke, pushed the wheelbarrow, and staggered step by step into the depths of the thick fog.
"Creak— creak—"
The wheelbarrow's groans gradually faded away.
The moment his figure completely vanished into the Five-colored Miasma.
The two Loose Cultivators watched in horror as the deadly toxic fog that even birds dared not fly through seemed to encounter some terrifying vortex, frantically converging toward that hunched back!
What kind of Sick Ghost Old Man was that?
That was clearly a... Malevolent Deity walking through the poisonous miasma!