A deserted street corner, a familiar stall, a familiar seat. Yang Ling cracked his neck and sat down.
"A pound of wontons!"
"Right away, sir. Just a moment."
The vendor, who had a long beard and wore a felt cap, stooped over and got busy.
The sky had yet to brighten, and there was almost no one else on the street.
Yang Ling was the stall's first customer of the day.
Soon, the wontons were ready. The vendor hurried over, carrying the bowl for Yang Ling with both hands.
As he walked, the vendor's thumb inevitably dipped into the broth.
But this was a street stall; no one expected fine dining. As long as it was clean and hygienic enough, it was fine.
Yang Ling certainly didn't mind. He had spent the entire night carousing at the gambling den and was now starving.
Ignoring the heat, he eagerly shoved two wontons into his mouth.
"Ow, ow, ow—"
"So hot!"
But more than the pain, it was deeply satisfying.
'This is the stuff… Wait, no!'
'Did he add some other kind of seasoning today?'
'Why is there this new, intoxicatingly sweet and savory flavor?!'
Martial Artists had sharp eyes and keen ears. All their senses were greatly enhanced, and that naturally included smell and taste.
He came to eat at this wonton stall every two or three days.
Whether he spent the night raising hell in a gambling den or listening to songs in a brothel, coming here for a bowl of wontons in the morning had become Yang Ling's habit.
So, the moment the flavor was slightly off, he noticed it immediately.
Perhaps sensing Yang Ling's confusion, the vendor quickly came closer.
"Sir, is something wrong?"
Yang Ling frowned instinctively. "Your wontons today, how come… Mmph!?"
He never expected the vendor to suddenly strike, locking him in a hold from behind.
At the same time, a jet-black palm, its sickeningly sweet scent overwhelming, clamped over his mouth.
A mix of shock and rage flooded Yang Ling. He was about to erupt with all his strength and fight back.
But just as he tried to cultivate his Skill, his entire body went limp and powerless, and his head began to spin uncontrollably.
The feeling was like listening to five women sing at once in a brothel.
'Poison!'
'There's poison in the wontons, and this hand is even more poisonous!'
Yang Ling realized it in an instant, but it was too late.
With his mouth covered, he couldn't even beg for mercy, only kick his legs about uselessly.
The next moment, a low voice, intentionally raspy, spoke from beside his ear.
"Breathe deep. It's normal to feel dizzy."
"Go to sleep…"
As soon as the words fell, Yang Ling lost consciousness completely.
After taking down Yang Ling, the vendor quickly patted him down and found what he had won at the gambling den last night.
Then, without a moment's hesitation, he left.
Only after confirming he was safe did the "vendor" remove his disguise, tossing aside the felt cap and fake beard to reveal his handsome, if unremarkable, face.
That handsome face was famous throughout Yuan Guang County. Who else could it be but Zou Feng?
He had been waiting for this opportunity and preparing for it for a long time.
He studied Yang Ling's routine and observed all his habits.
Yang Ling was fond of his nightly activities—if not listening to songs at the brothel, then holding court at the gambling den.
This gave Zou Feng a great deal of convenience.
All he had to do was sneak out of the Yang Mansion in the dead of night and follow Yang Ling from a distance.
And today, the opportunity Zou Feng had been waiting for finally arrived.
Just one look at Yang Ling as he left the gambling den was enough to tell he had won money.
It was the perfect chance to relieve him of his winnings.
So he immediately rushed ahead to the wonton stall, drugged the real vendor unconscious, and changed into his clothes as a disguise.
This method of ambushing Yang Ling had, of course, been planned long in advance. The vendor was of a similar build to him, and he always carried the fake beard with him.
In truth, even without resorting to such underhanded tactics, Zou Feng was confident he could take down Yang Ling.
After all, Yang Ling was already suffering from the side effects of the Five Poison Palm; his body was in a state of chronic poisoning.
Coupled with his all-night gambling and exhaustion, he probably couldn't even use seventy percent of his actual strength.
However, Zou Feng saw himself as a cultivator of an Evil Skill, destined to be an Evil Cultivator. So why not play dirty?
This was the only way to minimize the chance of any unexpected incidents.
He just wanted to take Yang Ling's money safely and soundly; he had no intention of killing him.
After all, he still needed Yang Ling to carry the weight for him.
That was why Zou Feng had carefully controlled the dose of poison, both the portion he added to the wontons with his thumb and the one he administered when covering Yang Ling's mouth and nose.
Just enough to knock him out, not kill him.
The ambush went off without a hitch.
Although they hadn't truly traded blows, Zou Feng still gained a new understanding of his own strength.
'It was a planned attack against an unsuspecting target, but even so, Yang Ling, a trained fighter, couldn't react at all once I made my move.'
'This means my speed is already on par with the Hospital Martial Artists of the Yang Mansion…'
Zou Feng had once happened to see Yang Ling sparring with a Hospital Martial Artist.
At the time, the speed Yang Ling displayed when he attacked was only slightly greater than that of the Hospital Martial Artist.
'Thinking about it that way, was I being overly cautious?'
'No, it's never wrong to be cautious!'
'I must always remember that I am an Evil Cultivator.'
'An Evil Cultivator should act like one…'
By the time Zou Feng returned to the woodshed, the sky was gradually beginning to lighten.
It was worth mentioning that Zou Feng's ability to come and go from the Yang Mansion as he pleased was also thanks to his cultivation of the Five Poison Palm.
The Evil Dogs raised by the Third Young Master, Yang Yanpeng, were far more useful as sentries than the Hospital Martial Artists.
Therefore, after nightfall, there were basically no patrols in the Yang Mansion—only these Evil Dogs roaming along the courtyard walls.
But even Evil Dogs feared poisonous things. The moment they smelled the scent his palms emitted when he was cultivating his skill, they would flee from a great distance.
This made it much easier for Zou Feng to come and go as he pleased at night.
Next came the joyous moment of counting his spoils.
Yang Ling had actually won quite a lot that night.
Twelve taels of silver coins, plus a hundred-tael silver banknote.
'I'm rich!'
'This is definitely the right way for an Evil Cultivator to make money.'
'Thinking back on my previous plan to save money through kickbacks, it would have taken forever to save up a hundred taels.'
With this money, he could finally go try his luck at the Ghost Market.
But he couldn't be hasty.
Although local gangs supposedly maintained basic order at the Ghost Market, it was still a very unsafe place.
Therefore, to be safe, it was better to wait until his Five Poison Palm advanced to the next stage and his strength increased again. Only then would he feel secure.
With this in mind, and since it was still early, Zou Feng brought out the chamber pot filled with poison and began his cultivation.
Poor Yang Ling was still in a deep coma, yet he was still being used as a stepping stone by Zou Feng.
When he finally woke up, Yang Ling would likely suffer a major illness.
In the morning, after Yang Ling was carried back, the Patriarch of the Yang Family was, naturally, furious.
After all, it had been a long time since anyone in Yuan Guang County dared to provoke the Yang Family.
This was not only because his younger daughter, Yang Qianqian, had outstanding talent and had just reached the Entering Grade, with a chance of being selected by a Sect.
Furthermore, his eldest son, Yang Zhengfei, had long since achieved Martial Arts Entry and served in the army of the Great Yan Dynasty.
In addition, the Patriarch himself, as well as one of his younger brothers, were also Entering Grade Martial Artists.
However, both men were old. Their qi and blood were in decline, and they no longer possessed the valor of their youth.
If they were truly forced to fight, they could manage a momentary burst of power at most, but they couldn't last in a prolonged battle at all.