The Martial God who started at Mantuo Manor

Page 17

"Brother Wang, it seems our fate has run its course."

Zhao Song's smile turned ferocious and triumphant. The short knife in his hand gleamed with a bloodthirsty light in the candlelight. "Since you are so badly injured, staying in this world will only bring you suffering. Why don't I send you on your way and let you ascend to paradise sooner!"

Before he finished speaking, Zhao Song's eyes flashed with murderous intent. He suddenly exerted force with his feet and pounced on Wang Meng like a ghost. The short knife in his hand turned into a deadly cold star, tearing through the air and stabbing straight towards Wang Meng's heart!

"Go with peace of mind!"

He roared, as if he could already see Wang Meng's blood splattering and his miserable death on the spot.

However, just as Zhao Song's dagger was about to touch Wang Meng's chest, a sudden change occurred!

Wang Meng, who had appeared extremely weak and struggling to breathe, suddenly unleashed a terrifying glint in his eyes! His unfocused pupils instantly focused, becoming as sharp as a hawk's!

His seemingly powerless body, at this moment, was like a dormant tiger awakening, unleashing unimaginable terrifying power! "Roar!" A deep roar, unlike a human voice, came from deep within Wang Meng's throat!

The extraordinary power of the "Dragon Essence and Tiger Fierce Thirteen Kidneys" was unleashed to its fullest extent at the critical moment of life and death!

An endless surge of adrenaline coursed through his body like a burst dam, forcefully suppressing the excruciating pain and collapse in his chest, and instantly elevating his body's potential to an unbelievable level!

His "Supreme Sacred Fire Technique" internal energy, which had been somewhat dimmed due to his serious injuries, suddenly surged like dry tinder that had been splashed with hot oil!

A scorching and domineering aura surged out from his body, as if it would burn everything in the world!

"court death!"

Wang Meng's eyes were bloodshot. Facing Zhao Song's determined strike, he neither dodged nor avoided it. Instead, he advanced with a fearless attitude!

His right hand moved with lightning speed, his five fingers spread wide, carrying a scorching internal force that could burn iron and metal. He struck first, and with unparalleled precision, grabbed Zhao Song's wrist as he thrust his knife at him!

No! His target wasn't the wrist!

Rather—it was Zhao Song's throat!

"Crack!"

A sickeningly loud cracking sound, like bone breaking, could be clearly heard in the room!

Before Zhao Song could even react to what was happening, he felt an irresistible force gripping his neck. Then, a scorching, domineering internal force that almost melted him penetrated his body, instantly destroying the structure of his throat bone!

His eyes bulged out, filled with unbelievable horror and fear.

He tried to shout and struggle, but all he could make was a wheezing sound; he couldn't utter a single sound.

That domineering fiery internal force had shattered his vocal cords and crushed his throat bones!

The excruciating pain and the feeling of suffocation struck simultaneously, and the smugness and ferocity on Zhao Song's face instantly froze, replaced by boundless fear and despair.

He never imagined that this prey, which he saw as dying, would unleash such terrifying power at the last moment!

This is not the reaction a seriously injured person should have!

However, just as Wang Meng crushed Zhao Song's throat bone with overwhelming force, Zhao Song's short knife, due to inertia, also pierced Wang Meng's body!

"Thud!" The sound of a sharp blade piercing flesh was dull yet clear.

The dagger did not pierce Wang Meng's heart because Wang Meng turned his body to the side at the last moment by a hair's breadth.

However, the sharp tip of the knife was deeply embedded in his left shoulder blade!

A searing pain shot through his left shoulder, and even with Wang Meng's strong will, he couldn't help but groan.

The cold blade pierced his flesh and embedded itself deep in his bone. The chill and excruciating pain instantly made him break out in a cold sweat.

Even worse, he could feel a chilling aura spreading rapidly from the wound—the knife was poisoned!

Zhao Song's body went limp and fell to the ground, his eyes wide open, dying with his eyes still open.

He never understood why he, who clearly held an absolute advantage, had ended up in such a state.

Despite the excruciating pain in his left shoulder and the poison spreading through his body, Wang Meng stared at Zhao Song's corpse with no pity in his eyes, only a chilling killing intent.

"You're not qualified to kill me, Wang Meng!"

He spoke, panting heavily and in a hoarse voice.

However, he also knew that his current situation was extremely dangerous.

With his severe chest wound still unhealed, and now a new wound on his left shoulder, coupled with a deadly poison, he's likely to die here today.

He casually released his grip, leaving Zhao Song's throat, which had been crushed into a mass of broken flesh and bone.

Wang Meng pulled the poisoned blade out of his shoulder. Since Zhao Song's blade was poisoned, he must have an antidote on his body. He forced himself to endure his increasingly dizzy head and began to search Zhao Song's body.

Completely unaware that outside, a figure was walking towards them, searching for blood on the ground.

Chapter Twelve: Feet...feet...jade...jade feet!

Wang Meng was breathing heavily, each breath causing excruciating pain in his chest and left shoulder.

The chilling toxins spreading from the wound on his shoulder blade were gradually eroding his mind, causing him to feel dizzy and his vision to blur.

He knew he had to find the antidote as soon as possible.

Otherwise, even the "dragon's essence and tiger's fierceness, thirteen kidneys" wouldn't have saved his life.

He bent down, his trembling hands beginning to grope Zhao Song's pitch-black night clothes.

This was Wang Meng's first time killing someone.

Zhao Song's body was still warm.

But at this moment, Wang Meng was driven only by the desire to survive and the fear of the poison, and he had no regard for anything else.

His fingers carefully searched Zhao Song's clothes, belt, cuffs, and other places.

Soon, he pulled out several cold, hard objects from Zhao Song's arms.

When I opened my palm, I saw several small ceramic medicine bottles.

The bottles are mostly dark in color and have no labels, only some simple engravings for identification.

Wang Meng was overjoyed. Without bothering to examine it carefully, he picked up one of the small bottles, uncorked it, and a pungent medicinal smell wafted out.

He didn't dare to swallow it rashly, but just brought it to his nose and smelled it, and then opened another one.

Three or four medicine bottles were opened in succession. Some of the medicines inside were powders, and some were pills. They had different smells, some were fishy and foul, some were fragrant, and some had a strong smell of blood.

Wang Meng suppressed his dizziness and tried to discern from the various smells which one was the antidote to the cold, damp toxin in his body.

If you eat the wrong thing, you might die even faster.

Besides the medicine bottle, Wang Meng also pulled out a bunch of strangely shaped hidden weapons from a concealed leather pouch on Zhao Song's waist.

There were fine, hair-like poison needles, sharp-edged willow-leaf throwing knives, and several dark, rhomboid caltrops that emitted a faint fishy smell.

These hidden weapons were exquisitely crafted and clearly poisoned, demonstrating Zhao Song's ruthlessness.

Wang Meng secretly rejoiced; if he hadn't acted decisively and killed the enemy first, he would probably be the one dead now.

Just as he casually tossed the hidden weapons aside and prepared to continue searching Zhao Song's body, his fingers touched a flat and hard object, which seemed to be hidden in the lining of Zhao Song's clothes.

Wang Meng's heart stirred, and he painstakingly pulled it out.

It was a small booklet, about the size of a palm, with a warm and smooth feel, as if it were carved from a single piece of fine mutton-fat jade!

The booklet is thin and smooth, without any text or patterns, except for some simple cloud patterns along the edges.

what is this?

Martial arts cheats?

Or is it some important keepsake?

Wang Meng was filled with doubt. He tried to open the jade book, but found that it did not seem to be made of paper. Instead, it was made of extremely thin pieces of jade strung together, making a crisp "clinking" sound when he turned the pages.

He could vaguely see tiny characters engraved on the jade piece, but because of the dim light and his dizziness, he couldn't see them clearly at all.

His intuition told him that this thing must be extraordinary!

But now is not the time for research.

Saving lives is the priority!

However, just as Wang Meng was trying to identify the medicine bottle, he did not notice at all that a barely audible footstep outside was getting closer and closer, following the trail of his blood dripping on the ground.

A slender, delicate figure in purplish-yellow had silently appeared outside the hastily bolted door, listening intently to the sounds inside.

The antidote and the healing pills have not yet been distinguished.

Wang Meng's vision began to blur rapidly, as if everything in front of him was covered by a thick black veil, and his ears began to ring.

The chilling toxins spreading from his shoulder blades, like maggots clinging to his bones, were frantically eroding his last shred of clarity.

He could feel his body growing heavier and heavier, and his consciousness was being pulled into an abyss.

"No... I can't... fall asleep..."

He gritted his teeth, trying to use the excruciating pain to keep himself awake, but to little avail.

The jade book and medicine bottle in his hands became unusually heavy, almost slipping from his weak fingers.

Just as his consciousness was about to completely sink into darkness, a series of intermittent bird calls with a specific rhythm, like a glimmer of light piercing through the thick fog, faintly entered his ears.

"Chirp...chirp chirp...chirp..."

The bird's call was very soft and easily missed if one didn't listen carefully. The sound was short and rhythmic, three long calls followed by two short calls, then a brief pause, and then two long calls followed by three short calls again.

This cycle repeats itself endlessly, carrying a unique rhythm.

Wang Meng's pupils, which had been beginning to dilate, suddenly contracted the moment he heard the bird's call!

That voice... it sounds so familiar!

His brain spun laboriously like a rusty gear, trying to sift through his jumbled memories for fragments of the voice.

It's...it's a code! He suddenly remembered!

This is one of the secret codes used by Ming Cult disciples to make secret meetings and transmit simple messages!

It imitates the call of a bird called the "three-spotted bird," whose call is clear but uncommon, and whose pauses and frequencies can be controlled, making it ideal for transmitting encrypted information!

As a major force in the martial arts world, the Ming Cult had established various secret communication methods. In addition to common methods such as sending messages by carrier pigeon and using secret letters, various coded signals that imitated sounds from nature were also an important part of their system.

For example, specific insect chirps, animal roars, or even the sound of wind blowing through specific objects can be used as signals for communication.

The distinctive feature of the call of this "three-beaded bird" lies in the combination and variation of its calls.