Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Wild Wind, the Fine Rain, and Master Wine

The rain continued to fall, though the wind had long since faded. When a slant of sunlight pierced through the forest canopy, it illuminated the soldiers’ armor, making the droplets glisten like jewels.

Lin Xiaofeng suddenly stopped smiling. He gazed silently into the distant void, his eyes suffused with the fervor of battle—a longing for a fierce contest, or perhaps the thrill of meeting a worthy opponent. His gaze resembled that of a snow wolf king atop a great mountain, poised to hunt its prey, or a vigilant eagle waiting for its quarry to appear.

Su Fan’s expression remained unchanged, but his spiritual senses had already spread outward, seeking to discern the reason for Lin Xiaofeng’s sudden change. Yet the world remained blank; only the forest and the pervasive miasma lingered.

It was quiet—so quiet that one could hear the droplets on the leaves melt into blood and then strike the next leaf below.

This peace was swiftly shattered by a voice—calm, unhurried, yet possessing an undeniable dominance.

“Wild winds, gentle rain, Master Wine.”

The speaker was not Lin Xiaofeng, nor was it any of the black-armored soldiers who had just survived a fierce battle, or even Su Fan.

The voice came from afar, yet it was clear as day. Lin Xiaofeng broke into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he replied, “Swarm of insects, miasma, Master Poison.”

A burst of manic laughter echoed through the forest. A figure garbed in green swept forward, mingling with red mud and the corpses of black insects, as if a dark cloud were rolling in.

Su Fan was stunned. The pressure this man exuded was reminiscent of the elder in purple robes—it was clear his cultivation was above the Nascent Soul stage. Coupled with Lin Xiaofeng’s chant of “Swarm of insects, miasma, Master Poison,” Su Fan was confident of the newcomer’s identity: the infamous Master Poison of the Corpse Valley, renowned throughout the Tianyuan Prefecture for his endless slaughter.

From Master Poison’s words, it was evident that Lin Xiaofeng was none other than Master Wine. The revelation of Lin Xiaofeng’s astonishing identity left Su Fan deeply shocked. Not only was Master Wine’s cultivation history unknown, but merely being a member of the Corpse Valley was remarkable.

Corpse Valley lay in the remote region of Tianyuan Prefecture, far from the Tianyuan Sect. Its denizens were mostly descendants of the ancient inhabitants of the main prefecture, or exiles who had fled there across the ages.

The Tianyuan Sect had seven branches; Corpse Valley had three halls. The sect boasted seven heads, and Corpse Valley had three hall masters. Out of fear that Corpse Valley might one day threaten its supremacy, the Tianyuan Sect had always made things difficult for them. Yet, thanks to the three hall masters, Corpse Valley had survived every crisis.

Who were these masters? According to rumor, they were the three gentlemen of Corpse Valley. Master Poison was known for his extraordinary prowess with toxins and his ability to control insect beasts.

He had once fought the elder in red robes, ultimately losing but emerging unscathed—thus, most believed his cultivation was at least mid-Nascent Soul stage.

He had not appeared outside Corpse Valley for nearly a millennium, so the world had largely forgotten him. Yet his fearsome reputation lingered within the Tianyuan Sect, rumored to have slaughtered disciples or even dozens of elders, whether true or not, all such tales were ascribed to him.

There was, however, someone within Corpse Valley who could match Master Poison: Master Madman.

It was said that when Corpse Valley first came into being, chaos reigned. Despite many powerful cultivators, they could not withstand the Tianyuan Sect’s planned extermination campaigns.

That year, six of the Sect’s seven branches—excluding the Purple Branch—sent all their elite disciples, joining forces with all the powerful families of the prefecture, to eradicate Corpse Valley.

With no one to lead them, Corpse Valley was thrown into disarray, and the attackers succeeded in breaching its defenses. The valley became a true graveyard, countless cultivators buried deep within its heart.

As the valley faced extinction and its inhabitants the threat of death, a man emerged from the pile of corpses. Disheveled and seemingly insane, he spoke words that stunned all: “Everyone stay where you are. Within half a day, the invaders will retreat, or you will die.”

No one dared mock his madness, nor disobey his command. Those who did, regardless of cultivation, perished mercilessly.

Half a day later, the attackers withdrew completely. Whether Master Madman had negotiated some terms with the Tianyuan Sect, or truly vanquished them by force, no one knew.

From that moment on, Corpse Valley gained a new faction; the Mad Hall and Poison Hall divided the valley, all cultivators submitting to their rule, without complaint.

As for Master Wine, Su Fan knew little—only fragments recorded in old texts.

Master Wine entered Corpse Valley as a newcomer, and was bullied for his weakness. Later, he left, returning a century later, slaughtering countless foes, passing through Poison Hall as if it were empty, and even the Mad Hall people felt they could not match his madness.

Eventually, Master Poison and Master Madman joined forces to challenge Master Wine. Even then, Master Wine escaped unharmed. In the end, the two had to cede part of their territory to him.

Thus, the threefold structure of Corpse Valley was established: Master Wine, mysterious and uniquely cultivated; Master Poison, cold and ruthless, a killer beyond compare; Master Madman, elusive and profoundly skilled.

Yet these figures were shrouded in legend—their true existence forbidden to be discussed among Tianyuan Sect disciples. The Sect branded them as evil monsters, despised by its righteous members.

Today, Su Fan had witnessed not one, but two of them; his astonishment was beyond words.

The man before them wore green robes, his manner carefree, nothing like Su Fan’s imagined image of a poison master—ugly and sinister.

Lin Xiaofeng’s expression was calm and his gaze cold as he spoke, “It’s been many years since we last met, you—”

Master Poison smiled faintly. “No need for pleasantries. I won’t spare them.”

Lin Xiaofeng frowned. “Why?”

Master Poison’s tone grew dark. “They actually neutralized my poison.”

Su Fan was taken aback. “Are you referring to the scent of rapeseed flowers?”

Master Poison’s anger intensified. “They even knew where the poison was. That is the greatest insult to a poison master.”

Lin Xiaofeng gave a wry smile. “He sensed it by chance, and happened to resolve it.”

Master Poison retorted, “By chance? That seems rather far-fetched.”

Lin Xiaofeng smiled. “Surely Master Poison isn’t so petty as to hold a grudge against a youngster?”

Master Poison glanced at Su Fan and snorted coldly. “If he were truly a youngster, I wouldn’t have come to kill him.”

Lin Xiaofeng paused, then asked, “Who could possibly have persuaded you to act as an assassin?”

Master Poison replied, “It’s better you don’t know. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”

The less he knew, the more he wanted to know—such was Lin Xiaofeng’s boundless curiosity. Yet he did not press further. If Master Poison was unwilling to speak, he would not. And if knowing less meant greater safety, Lin Xiaofeng would not seek more.