RYEY -Chapter 418 Test Subject

This discovery left him utterly shocked. If the true qi in his body was gone, then what kind of superhuman was he? One must understand that the powers of these individuals were inherited from the womb.

The difference in power among them depended on the true qi in their bodies. Those with high-level abilities had true qi that circulated endlessly, while those with low-level abilities, once their true qi was depleted, were no different from ordinary martial artists.

He thought rapidly. Now, if he wanted to know whether he could recover, he had no choice but to risk everything and mobilize the true qi hidden deep within his body.

He wanted to form hand seals to draw his true qi, but then he realized his hands were bound—tied behind his back. Even if he tried with all his strength to break free, it wasn’t so simple.

But no matter what, he had to regain his freedom. Otherwise, not only would his lifetime reputation be ruined, he might even lose his life. With this thought, he focused all his strength on his arms, ready to exert himself.

Yet, no matter how he struggled, the ropes didn’t loosen; instead, the more he struggled, the tighter they became. Only then did he realize something was wrong. He forcefully turned his head and finally spotted a thin silver cord.

Just such a fine rope, and he was a superhuman—how could it possibly be unbreakable? The agent squinted, recalling something in his mind.

“There is a treasure in China, said to be a gift from the heavens, used to deal with cultivators or superhumans who might harm China. Once bound by this treasure, even the greatest skills cannot help you escape.”

The agent finally remembered what his country’s prime minister had said. At first, it sounded ridiculous—does the heavenly realm only protect China? What about them?

Now recalling it, his heart shuddered. Indeed, that was it. This treasure had a beautiful name: the “Immortal-Binding Rope.” Thin and white, reflecting specks of silver in the sunlight.

He couldn’t help but glance again at the rope around his hands. Sure enough, it was thin and white, reflecting silver specks in the sunlight—but somehow, the silver glow seemed unusual.

The agent calmed himself and closed his eyes, intending to examine the rope with his consciousness. Normally, his level didn’t allow him to freely enter his consciousness, but today he managed it.

Conscious perception was clearer than eyesight. He clearly saw that the specks of silver in the sunlight formed the pattern of a Bagua diagram, and the diagram seemed alive, moving with his motions.

The agent maintained this state for a while, then fell into an endless coma. Cheng Qiao ignored him and turned her attention to Hu Lata, wanting to see how he was doing.

A white mist enveloped the doorway of Hu Lata’s room. Ye Xiaolin anxiously stood at the entrance, clearly thinking there was a fire, but the door couldn’t be opened.

“Cheng Qiao, come quickly! What’s going on?”

Cheng Qiao sensed a familiar scent in the mist—it was the water from her spatial well. Could it be…

“Brother Xiaolin, let’s not disturb Uncle Lala. I think he’s about to advance.”

“Advance… could it be…”

Seeing the admiration in Ye Xiaolin’s eyes, Cheng Qiao couldn’t bear to look directly. What do men truly need? If you think it’s money or women, you’re wrong.

Men need power—a force that allows them to control everything. But Ye Xiaolin clearly didn’t have it. He couldn’t even control his own fate.

“I’ll go take a walk.”

Feeling a little dejected, Ye Xiaolin left the Li family’s yard and headed toward the back mountain. Cheng Qiao didn’t stop him. Time would ease everything; Ye Xiaolin would come to understand.

Cheng Qiao returned to tending to Li Huan, who gradually calmed himself. After bathing and practicing according to the meditation manual Hu Lata had given him, he felt a subtle change within his body.

“Qiao, take a look at this meditation manual. I feel like something in me has changed, but I can’t tell exactly what.”

Cheng Qiao took the few thin pages and noticed their unique texture—they were very rough, almost coarse to the touch.

She examined the illustrations of people meditating. The longer she looked, the more she felt that the figures in the drawings seemed to move.

“Li Huan, focus on these figures and really pay attention.”

Li Huan took it skeptically. He looked at it every day, but listening to Cheng Qiao had become a kind of obsession, so he concentrated on the drawings.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes passed. Finally, enlightenment dawned in his eyes. He put down the manual and imitated the poses of the figures to meditate.

This time, he seemed to enter a wondrous state. Previously stiff or impossible movements now flowed effortlessly, connecting seamlessly.

Cheng Qiao quietly stepped out, went to the kitchen, and cooked some meals to store in her spatial pocket. She also tidied the woodshed. That agent needed a place to stay—he couldn’t keep sleeping in the backyard.

Night fell, and Ye Xiaolin returned. Cheng Qiao could tell from his expression that he had come to terms with things. Everyone has their own path in this world; there’s nothing to envy.

“Brother Xiaolin, after dinner, help me carry that agent to the woodshed. I’ve prepared it.”

“How is he now?”

“Still unconscious.”

“I’ll go right away.”

Ye Xiaolin carried the agent into the woodshed, washed his hands thoroughly, and returned to his room. Midnight fell, and snowflakes like goose feathers drifted down, the temperature dropping several degrees.

Cheng Qiao entered the house and saw Li Huan still meditating. The only difference was that he was sweating. She felt pleased but dared not disturb him.

She went to the woodshed. The Reed Blade Pill had been in the agent’s stomach for more than twelve hours. Why had there been no reaction? Could it be that the pill had failed?

Yangyang Village still had no electricity, so Cheng Qiao lit a pine branch—both for light Chapter 419: Not Ruthless Enough

Just as the agent was racking his brains and failing to make sense of it all, a streak of firelight landed on his head. He also caught the scent of jasmine—and hidden beneath that jasmine fragrance was a familiar smell. The agent suddenly understood.

“So it was you who poisoned me. Cheng Qiao, you’re the most formidable poison-maker I’ve ever met—far more powerful than Leng Du.”

“Smart,” Cheng Qiao replied. “I have a medical inheritance. What does that so-called Leng Du amount to?”

At the mention of Leng Du, Cheng Qiao ground her teeth in hatred. Li Huan’s current suffering was entirely thanks to that very poison.

“I know what you want,” the agent said. “Untie me, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

The agent was no fool. They could clearly have taken his life, yet they hadn’t. Keeping him alive meant they had an ulterior motive.

What else was there for others to scheme against him over, if not his country’s secrets? He was willing to sell them out—who told their intelligence bureau to be so unreliable, portraying a demon as a harmless medical sage?

“Sorry,” Cheng Qiao said. “I do have designs on you. But I can’t undo the rope on you—only Uncle Lata can.”

“Where is Hu Lata?”

A flicker of joy rose in the agent’s heart. So he’d guessed right. Did that mean he still had room to negotiate—perhaps even ask to be released?

“Uncle Lata is meditating. He originally thought that once his true qi was exhausted, that would be the end of it. But who knew—after reaching the end of the road, another village would appear. He seems to be about to break through.”

“What? What did you give him?”

Extreme greed burst forth in the agent’s eyes. He knew what was required for an esper to advance in rank—those were all heavenly treasures that simply did not exist in this world.

“You should be asking what I gave you.”

“What? What did you give me?”

“Leng Du, of course. But the poison I developed should be more advanced than Leng Du. I call it Reed Blade Pill. The materials are extremely precious, so I could only afford to give you one.”

The agent was instantly petrified. As far as he knew, it had taken Leng Du twenty years to gather all the ingredients, determine the proportions, and figure out the crucial elements.

Yet this woman had spent just two days recreating Leng Du—and making something even more potent. As he sensed the changes in his body, his bones gradually stiffening, he completely believed Cheng Qiao’s words.

“I take back what I said earlier,” he hurriedly declared. “As long as you give me the antidote, I’ll tell you everything—leave nothing unsaid. I can even guarantee I’ll never come to Huaguo again. Of course, if Huaguo needs me, I can stay and serve you.”

Cheng Qiao froze for a moment. Was this really an esper she was facing? If so, how could he be this despicable—so readily promising to betray his own country?

“I will give you the antidote,” she said calmly. “But you’ll need to wait a while. I don’t yet know the true effects of the Reed Blade Pill I developed, so please cooperate.”

“You… so this is your real purpose in keeping me alive.”

“Smart. I like talking to smart people—it’s not tiring.”

“Don’t you need me to confess anything?”

“At least I don’t. I’m just a doctor. I care about my patient’s health, so I’ll be observing you.”

To hell with your concern for a patient’s health. You’re not concerned about my health—you’re watching my reactions after being poisoned, just like with Leng Du. As expected, poison-makers are all black-hearted and ruthless.

“But why choose me?” the agent scoffed bitterly. “I wasn’t the one who poisoned your man.”

He laughed in anger. Revenge—plain and simple. How pitiful that he, an outstanding esper even in his own country, had fallen to the fate of being used as an experiment.

An experiment… right. They had originally planned to capture Cheng Qiao and use her for experiments too. Who would’ve thought the prey would turn on the hunter? What a colossal joke.

“Leng Du’s poison lasts for forty-nine days,” the agent asked bleakly. “May I ask, Ms. Cheng Qiao—how long does the effect of your Reed-whatever Pill last?”

He was already in despair. He just wanted to know how long he had left to live. Yes—he wanted to die. Living like this was not only an insult to himself, but also to his country.

A camera appeared in Cheng Qiao’s hand. She aimed it at the agent and photographed him from every angle, murmuring to herself as she did so: “Day one and a half after taking the Reed Blade Pill. All signs are still relatively normal.”

The agent was furious. A mouthful of old blood sprayed out of his mouth—but that scene was captured by Cheng Qiao as well. She even shook her head. “Tolerance is too poor.”

The agent took two deep breaths and suddenly thought of something. His partner Leng Du had been immune to poisons due to years of making them—so how had he been poisoned to death? He looked up at Cheng Qiao and asked word by word:

“Where is the snake that killed Leng Du? He wasn’t afraid of poison—so how could that snake’s venom kill him?”

“Oh, that?” Cheng Qiao replied lightly. “He didn’t die from a snake bite. A bullet went straight through the center of his forehead. Excellent marksmanship—killed with a single shot.”

The agent also thought of Ye Xiaolin, but he didn’t believe Ye Xiaolin could have killed Leng Du. The vivid memory of that flash of red—the little red-headed creature—was etched far too deeply in his mind.

Cold wind kept blowing in through the cracks of the door, making the agent, lying on a makeshift wooden board, shiver uncontrollably. The true qi in his body grew more and more unresponsive, as if it were being absorbed by something unknown.

Worst of all, his joints began to stiffen. He couldn’t even bend his legs. A deep terror enveloped him, making him want nothing more than to bite off his tongue and end it all.

Right—he could bite his tongue. But after struggling for a long while, even his tongue seemed frozen stiff. Cheng Qiao held a notebook, recording every single reaction he displayed.

“Can you still speak?” she asked.

She remembered that after Li Huan was poisoned with Leng Du, he had been unable to move or speak within half an hour. In the end, it was only because the little red-headed creature absorbed most of the poison that he managed to pull through.

Yet this man had been poisoned for more than thirty hours now and could still talk to her at length—even after suffering severe injuries. That alone showed how terrifyingly powerful espers were.

“Can you give me a blanket?” the agent asked weakly. “I’m cold.”

Cheng Qiao nodded. From the basket at her feet, she pulled out a brand-new blanket and covered him with it. It was thick enough to withstand subzero temperatures—this, too, was a form of respect toward an esper.

“You’ll sleep here for now. Oh, and this is the food I prepared for you. Eat it if you get hungry.”

The agent looked at the clean bedding and the large bowl of steaming hot noodles. The tension on his face visibly eased. At that moment, he felt disappointed in Cheng Qiao.

“Not ruthless enough… not ruthless enough, Cheng Qiao. If you were captured by our people, there’s no way you’d receive this kind of treatment. Not beating you would already count as preferential treatment for a prisoner.”