Chapter 55: Of All Weapons, This Is Poison-Laced Lime Powder

An Ziyang carefully descended into the secret tunnel, keeping close to the wall as he moved forward slowly.

There was no torchlight within the tunnel; it was pitch black. Not daring to use any illumination, he could only grope his way ahead.

His feet never left the ground, sliding flat against the earth to guard against traps.

Suddenly, he felt his toe touch something.

An Ziyang crouched down and swept the ground with his scabbard.

Ting, ting, ting.

The faint sound of iron.

An Ziyang swept those objects toward the wall, holding his sword in his left hand while feeling the wall with his right, trapping the iron items in between to gauge their size and shape. He cursed inwardly.

"Damn it all, caltrops! Stepping on those would be the end of me."

"No telling if they're poisoned... best not to touch."

An Ziyang carefully crouched lower, sweeping the ground with his scabbard as he advanced.

After moving forward a dozen paces, the scabbard no longer made contact with any objects. Still uneasy, An Ziyang untied his belt, fastened it to the scabbard, and swept it horizontally across the ground as he walked.

Another dozen paces later, An Ziyang touched the door at the end of the secret tunnel.

Faint candlelight seeped through the cracks of the door.

Instead of opening it, he pulled a hairpin from his bosom.

Truth be told, this was a gift he had bought for the disguised top courtesan of the Cult of Manichea. Having failed to give it away, he had kept it in his tunic ever since.

An Ziyang inserted the hairpin into the gap of the door and slid it down slowly.

Sure enough, it caught on a fine thread.

"There is a mechanism behind the door."

An Ziyang let out a soft sigh.

Ever since going underground fifteen years ago, the Cult of Manichea had grown accustomed to operating in the shadows. Naturally, they would take precautions in advance.

If he tried to dismantle this mechanism, he would inevitably alert the cultists inside. But if he left it alone, there was no way to enter.

His thoughts raced like lightning, and An Ziyang clenched his fists.

"There's no time to hesitate. I'll have to take a desperate gamble."

He straightened his posture, tidied his garments, ruffled his hair slightly, and drew his sword to slice a gash on his arm, smearing some blood onto his face. He then pulled a small pouch from his tunic, clutched it in his hand, and swallowed a medicinal pill.

Having completed these preparations, An Ziyang cleared his throat, his expression instantly shifting to one of panic. With a trembling voice, he banged violently on the door.

"Help! Someone help!"

"We're done for! That fiend is breaking through!"

A commotion suddenly erupted from inside the door, though it was muffled and rustling, making it hard for An Ziyang to make out the words.

Then came the sound of footsteps approaching the back of the door.

"Who is it?"

"What time is it that you're still testing me! The disciples within our banner don't even know each other's identities—would you recognize my name if I told you?!"

An Ziyang's voice trembled, but his hand gripped the sword hilt with absolute steadiness.

He knew a thing or two about the affairs of the Cult of Manichea. In the past, whenever pugilists or the Brocade Guard captured disciples of the Thick Earth Banner, none of them knew the identities of their comrades. While he couldn't be certain whether this applied to the people behind the door, he had no choice left but to gamble.

Fortunately, the person inside did not refute him. After a moment of silence, they asked,

"What is it?"

"What is it?!"

An Ziyang said urgently,

"Didn't you hear the commotion from above?"

"That fiend has attacked! I was given orders to come and evacuate with you!"

"Disarm the mechanism and let me in to talk!"

He had no idea who Li Miao was, but judging by the reaction of the person disguised as his father and Li Miao's own words, the members of the Cult of Manichea should all know who Li Miao was. Thus, he simply referred to him as "that fiend."

The person was silent for a moment, then actually deactivated the mechanism and pulled the door open.

An Ziyang stepped in quickly, sweeping his peripheral vision across the surroundings as a surge of secret triumph rose in his heart.

"Only four people. This can work."

The cultist who opened the door glanced at him, but his brow furrowed as he stared intently at An Ziyang.

"You are An Ziyang."

"Bollocks!"

An Ziyang cursed angrily.

"You know very well how we seized the An family estate! If people like us weren't putting on a show up top, would you lot even have a place to slack off down here?!"

"An Ziyang is already dead. I slept with him for half a month and figured out all his habits. He's useless now!"

Without waiting for a reply, An Ziyang continued urgently,

"We don't have time to argue now. Pack up your things, kill everyone else, and let's get out of here!"

"Did you not hear the commotion above?! An Wenjie's face didn't fool that man; the fight has already broken out! Nine-tenths of the people upstairs are dead, and they can't hold him off much longer!"

"Let's go, right now. The people of the An family have seen our faces, we can't leave them alive! Kill them and let's move!" His words grew increasingly frantic, and the few cultists looked at each other, a trace of panic creeping onto their faces.

Who Li Miao was and what he had done—An Ziyang might not have known, but they were painfully aware.

The Cult Leader had already left; no one here could survive an encounter with Li Miao.

Though they were all loyal to the Cult of Manichea, given the choice, who wanted to die if they didn't have to?

Yet, just as panic took hold of them, they failed to notice An Ziyang stealthily shifting his footing to position himself right in their midst.

Suddenly, one of them was startled and looked up sharply at An Ziyang.

"Wait! You—"

Swish!

Before he could finish speaking, An Ziyang flicked his wrist, hurling a cloud of white powder that erupted through the air and struck the faces of the four men instantly.

"!!!"

"Poison!"

The men immediately raised their hands to cover their mouths and noses, only to be met with a searing, fiery pain in their eyes as the powder hit them.

"Lime powder!"

One of them cried out in alarm.

They never expected that An Ziyang, the dignified "Young Master Lingxu," would resort to such despicable street-brawler tactics!

And yet, they had genuinely fallen for it!

Drawing their weapons, the men slashed wildly around them, attempting to ward off An Ziyang's attack. At the same time, they listened for any sound in the vicinity; if anyone cried out in pain, the others would charge collectively toward the source of the noise.

Even if An Ziyang managed to kill one of them, the remaining three joining forces could seal off An Ziyang's movement space, sightless though they were.

The four men flailed about in the dust for a moment, yet no attack from An Ziyang ever came.

Shortly after, the lime powder gradually settled. Spitting and wiping their eyes, the men strained to scan their surroundings with blurred vision.

"Where is he?"

"Damn it! He's gone to save the An family!"

"After him!"

Reacting swiftly, the group bolted together toward one of the secret tunnels.

"Ahem."

Just as they pulled open the door and prepared to step into the tunnel, a cough sounded from behind them.

"Many thanks, gentlemen. I now know where my father is being held."

The four men whipped around to see An Ziyang stepping out from a corner, walking leisurely toward them with a gentle smile on his face.

"You! You tricked us!"

One of them roared in fury.

"So what if you tricked us out of it?"

Another sneered.

"You're nothing more than a second-rate martial artist. Do you really expect to kill all four of us and still go rescue your father?"

Another walked slowly to An Ziyang's flank, cutting off his escape.

"Ah, yes. That is precisely what I planned to do."

"Besides, haven't you noticed something wrong with your bodies?"

An Ziyang remained entirely unfazed, speaking with a warm smile.

A jolt of alarm went through the group, and they immediately checked their internal circulation of *qi*.

The preceding chain of events had happened far too quickly, and with their minds being led around by An Ziyang, they hadn't noticed.

Now, upon checking, their complexions altered drastically.

"How is it? Do your arseholes feel like they're burning with a fiery pain?"

An Ziyang burst into hearty laughter.

"Is your heartbeat slowing down, your hands and feet turning cold, a taste of rust in your mouths, and your internal energy beginning to stagnate?"

"You—you!"

One of them pointed a trembling finger at An Ziyang, but before he could finish, a mouthful of blood spilled from his lips.

"Half lime powder, half secret elixir poison from the Tang Clan. This little pouch costs three hundred silver taels, and this young master never leaves home without it. Without the antidote, death follows within a matter of breaths."

"When I threw that powder, your immediate reaction was naturally to assume it was poison, so you covered your mouths and noses, leaving your eyes wide open for the lime."

"Once you realized it was lime powder, you lowered your sleeves to wipe your eyes, straight into the Tang Clan's elixir poison."

"This young master has been wandering the pugilistic world since I was twelve. Now that I have both wealth and leisure, how could I possibly lack the means to deal with a few poor wretches like you?"

Before An Ziyang's voice even faded, the four men crashed heavily to the ground. After twitching a few times, they went completely still.

An Ziyang let out a breath of relief, stepped forward to deliver a finishing strike to each of them, and then strode quickly toward the secret tunnel the men had been rushing toward.

"Father, I'm coming!"