Poison Darts

Yuan Fan's eyes lingered on the system window before him, a smile gradually spreading across his face. While he hadn't earned any Cultivation points this time, a cluster of skill points had manifested instead.

These points proved to be just what he needed to elevate the proficiency of his poison dart skill to the next level. Satisfaction welled within him as he contemplated the newfound potency this upgrade would bring to his abilities.

[Black Lily Poison assimilated - 100%]

[Host - Yuan Fan

Age - 18

Cultivation Talent - F-grade (Poison Affinity)

Cultivation Realm - Level Three Cultivator. (20/50)

Title- Poison Devourer. (Provides Poison Immunity.)

Skills- Poison Dart two one (0/20)

Skill Points - 30

Cultivation Points- 0]

That rancid poisonous gland had granted him a total of thirty skill points, far more than he had anticipated.

He only needed twenty of those points to elevate his poison dart skill to level two.

Yuan Fan couldn't help but marvel at his unexpected fortune, realizing the potential this newfound skill could unlock.

Yet, even as he absorbed this development, a faint unease lingered in the back of his mind, he wondered if he would be able to defeat Jia Cheng with level-three poison darts.

"Why are you smiling like an old senile geezer?" Jia Cheng sneered, his teeth clenched in frustration as he mocked Yuan Fan. Deep down, he sensed there was something off about Yuan Fan.

Despite having just consumed a poisonous gland, Yuan Fan remained standing, unaffected and seemingly unfazed. This defiance of conventional consequences only heightened Jia Cheng's suspicions, stirring a mixture of disbelief and unease within him.

Yuan Fan wasted no time in swiftly advancing his poison dart skill to level three.

He then looked at Jia Cheng with anger flashing in his eyes.

"We used to be brothers but today I will kill you!" Yuan Fan said with bloodshot eyes.

"Ha... You won't be able to do anything," Jia Cheng chuckled. With a kick of his leg, he launched himself toward Yuan Fan at an extreme speed. The air crackled with tension as their fates collided in that split second.

Yuan Fan's heart raced as he watched Jia Cheng's lightning-fast movement. With a gulp, he instinctively dodged backward, narrowly avoiding the lethal trajectory of Jia Cheng's attack.

Yuan Fan's mind raced. 'He's getting faster? I must end this before he overwhelms me.' With a few more agile leaps backward, Yuan Fan raised his hand, summoning his last reserves of strength.

Three poison darts materialized on Yuan Fan's palm, their malevolence evident as a black aura enveloped them.

Jia Cheng and his two lackeys exchanged wary glances, their suspicion growing.

The darts seemed to pulse with a sinister energy, casting shadows on the ground.

Yuan Fan's eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as he prepared to unleash their deadly power.

"A martial technique?!" exclaimed one of Jia Cheng's lackeys, his voice dripping with incredulity. "How did this trash get his hands on such forbidden knowledge?" His eyes darted between Yuan Fan and the ominous poison darts, fear etching lines on his face.

Even Jia Cheng, known for his astuteness, found himself thoroughly surprised by the revelation.

He was well aware of the exorbitant costs associated with Martial Techniques; even the haste technique bestowed upon him by his father had demanded a significant portion of their wealth.

Thus, the question gnawed at him, how had Yuan Fan, a person he knew to be of modest means, managed to procure such a rare and valuable technique?

The mystery perplexed him greatly, stirring a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Don't think that you will be able to defeat me with that pathetic technique of yours!" Jia Cheng's voice dripped with contempt and confidence, his words cutting through the tense silence like a sharp blade.

With a disdainful snort, he mocked Yuan Fan's chosen method. The air crackled with the weight of his arrogance, underlining his belief in his own prowess. But actions spoke louder than words, and with a powerful push against the ground, Jia Cheng unleashed the full potential of his haste technique.

The world around him blurred into streaks of motion as he surged forward with unparalleled speed, his sword a glinting extension of his determination. Each stride brought him closer to Yuan Fan, the intensity of his resolve fueling every calculated move.

In that moment, Jia Cheng was a manifestation of skill and determination, a testament to the dedication and training that had shaped him into a formidable opponent. His eyes locked onto Yuan Fan with unwavering focus, ready to prove that superiority was not just a belief but a reality forged in the crucible of combat.

Yuan Fan's eyes narrowed with steely resolve as he assessed the situation. Inhaling deeply, he understood the gravity of the moment—it was now or never.

Without a moment's hesitation, Yuan Fan swiftly revolved three poison-dipped darts on his palm.

With precision, he launched them towards Jia Cheng in rapid succession. Each dart sliced through the air with deadly intent, aimed at disrupting Jia Cheng's advance and turning the tide of their confrontation.

The tension crackled between them as Yuan Fan's calculated gamble unfolded. His heart pounded in his chest, knowing that the outcome of this clash could define his fate.

Jia Cheng's sneer deepened into a smirk of absolute confidence as he observed the three poison darts hurtling towards him.

"With my haste technique, these darts have no chance of even touching me!" His voice carried a tone of arrogant assurance, a reflection of his unwavering belief in his abilities.

In an instant, his muscles tensed and his body surged with power. With a fluid motion that seemed almost supernatural, he became a whirlwind of speed and agility.

His movements were a dance of evasion, a symphony of calculated steps that defied the laws of normal human reflexes.

Each dart seemed to slow down in his perception, their trajectories anticipated and effortlessly avoided.

Yet, amidst his seemingly flawless evasion, fate had a different plan. A fraction of a second too slow on one dodge, and one of the darts grazed his shoulder.

The impact was immediate—a sharp, burning sensation that cut through his adrenaline-fueled focus. Jia Cheng winced momentarily, the brief distraction enough to break his rhythm.

The scratch on his shoulder served as a stark reminder of the lethal precision and determination of his opponent, Yuan Fan.

It was a small wound, but its significance loomed large in the heat of their battle.

Jia Cheng's smirk faded, replaced by a renewed focus and a steely resolve. The battle was far from over, and he would not underestimate Yuan Fan's tactics again.

"Just a small wound, this is not enough!" Jia Cheng declared defiantly, though his voice betrayed a hint of discomfort as he took in a deep breath.

"Get ready to be defeated now. At first, I was careless, but that won't happen again," he continued, his tone resolute as he leveled his sword at Yuan Fan.

However, before he could advance, a sudden burning sensation seared through his mind, causing his vision to blur. The poison from Yuan Fan's darts, far more potent than anticipated, began to take effect with alarming speed.

A shocked expression twisted Jia Cheng's features as the reality of his predicament dawned on him. The confident facade crumbled, replaced by a mixture of surprise and realization.

The battle had taken an unexpected turn, and Jia Cheng now faced a race against time to counteract the deadly poison coursing through his veins.

Jia Cheng's mind raced as he focused inward, channeling his Qi to counteract the effects of the potent poison coursing through his veins.

With practiced control, he attempted to harness his inner energy, seeking to mitigate the spreading toxicity and regain his clarity of mind.

He understood the critical nature of the moment—victory over Yuan Fan was paramount.

Only then could he rely on his loyal aides to escort him safely back to the clan grounds, where his father's expertise awaited to purge the venom from his system.

Despite the pain and the haze threatening to overwhelm him, Jia Cheng clung to the resolve that fueled his martial prowess.

His breath steadied as he fought against the poison's debilitating effects, each moment a battle against time and his own body's frailty.

Despite Yuan Fan's relentless effort to resist, the poison surged through his veins like a relentless inferno, its insidious tendrils spreading swiftly through his body.

The excruciating pain contorted his face into a mask of torment, and his desperate cry echoed through the air as he strained to summon every last trace of Qi within him.

However, even as he gathered his inner energy, his adversary, Yuan Fan, unleashed another barrage of three deadly poison darts with ruthless precision, exacerbating his dire predicament.

This time the darts didn't miss and they all hit Jia Cheng's vital organs.

Soon enough Jia Cheng lost conciousness and then his body slumped down on the ground.

Jia Cheng's lackeys stood in stunned silence as they beheld their boss lying unconscious before them.

Their eyes shifted uneasily to Yuan Fan, whose presence now seemed imbued with an eerie, almost supernatural aura of power and determination.

In their gaze, he appeared as formidable as a demon unleashed from the depths of legend.

They had underestimated him, dismissing him as insignificant and unworthy, labeling him as mere trash.

Yet, here he stood victorious, defying all their expectations and assumptions. The realization dawned upon them with a bitter pang of disbelief and fear. Yuan Fan had proven himself not only capable but superior, shattering their illusions of invincibility and dominance.