Living In Another World With A Farm Chapter 8460 8460: Scruples _1

Feng Zhongxin grinned and replied, "That's excellent. Brother, you've avenged yourself. This tiny favor means nothing. Brother, hold on for me. I'm heading back to the inn to grab a few items. Come straight to me right away. We'll link up at the island's border." With those words, Feng Zhongxin gestured toward the island's perimeter. Zhao Hai gave a nod, and Feng Zhongxin spun around, striding back to his lodging at the hotel.

A smile played on Zhao Hai's lips as he watched Feng Zhongxin's retreating figure. He doubted that Feng Zhongxin was truly returning for belongings. It was standard for rogue cultivators and sect disciples to keep all their possessions on them until they secured personal cave dwellings. For sect disciples without private courtyards, safety wasn't guaranteed. If items vanished from your quarters, the sect rarely pursued the thief unless you held an official disciple status with your own space—no one would risk tampering then.

Rogue cultivators faced it even worse. Hotel owners typically warned that losses during absences fell on the guest. Thus, independents stashed goods in their spatial artifacts. Feng Zhongxin's claim of fetching things from the hotel rang false as an excuse. Clearly, he had ulterior motives tied to Zhao Hai.

Zhao Hai shrugged it off. He was curious about Feng Zhongxin's schemes and his allies'. If they plotted against him outright, he'd strike back without mercy. Pondering this, Zhao Hai made his way to the island's edge. He aimed to venture out with Feng Zhongxin, uncover his intentions, and observe rogue cultivators in action.

Meanwhile, Feng Zhongxin had reached his hotel. Instead of his room, he headed to another door, knocking twice. It swung open to reveal the scholar from yesterday. Bowing with cupped fists, Feng Zhongxin said, "Wen bro, I'm off with Zhao Hai to harvest the blood jade flower. I reckon we shouldn't strike yet—we know too little about Zou Xiao, and our antidote stock is low. Clashing with Zou Xiao now would cost us dearly in lives. How about we bide our time, learn more about him, stock up on preparations, then act? What's your view?"

The scholar, Brother Wen, was named Wen Liren. He pondered Feng Zhongxin's suggestion briefly before agreeing with a nod. "Alright, we'll hold off a bit longer. Sacrificing too many just to take him down isn't wise. Go build his confidence in you. Also, probe the nature of his poisons—it'll ease our handling of him later."

Feng Zhongxin acknowledged it and added, "Got it, Wen bro. I'm off—Zou Xiao awaits." He saluted Wen Liren with cupped fists and departed. Wen Liren gazed at his back, shutting the door quietly. He backed Feng Zhongxin's strategy fully. The moment wasn't ripe for targeting Zhao Hai; without antidotes ready, hasty moves spelled disaster.

In the cultivation realm, poison users topped the list of foes no one craved. Rankings varied, but poison experts always cracked the top three. They plagued every cultivator, from novices to masters. Poison masters wielded signature toxins with secret recipes, never shared.

Though cultivation boasted myriad antidotes—some claiming to counter hundreds—they handled only everyday toxins from flora or fauna. Man-made poisons from masters defied them utterly.

Countering a poison master's brew demanded two paths: identifying the toxin to craft a tailored antidote, a tough feat usually; or seeking rare heavenly treasures that neutralized even such venoms potently. A third option existed—forcing the poison out via sheer power—but only elites managed it. Common folk couldn't, and even peers struggled if the toxin infiltrated their spiritual energy, planting deadly risks.

Hence, most cultivators shunned poison battles. True masters were scarce anyway; elevating poison arts proved arduous. No tales existed of ascension via poison alone. Few pursued it, yielding scant antidotes and heightening dread of those who did.

True or not, Wen Liren's group treated the rumor gravely. A poison-proficient Zhao Hai meant peril in rash assaults. Thus, Wen Liren endorsed Feng Zhongxin's cautious approach.

Initially driven by vengeance, over a millennium dimmed those fires across generations. Hatred faded easily. Wen Liren and kin had nearly forgotten it, now chasing ghastly wind bandits' heirs for their fabled hoard. They figured descendants knew the stash's spot. But they couldn't admit it—vengeance for ancestors and clans remained the recited cause.

Feng Zhongxin soon arrived at Blood Lake Island's rim. Zhao Hai stood there, patient. Spotting him, Zhao Hai beamed and saluted. "Big brother Feng, you've arrived." Zhao Hai felt no rush, eager to unravel Feng Zhongxin's game. Time was no issue for waiting.

Feng Zhongxin chuckled. "I left my straw hat back at the hotel. It's no great treasure, but I need it handy. Selling it off now wouldn't match its familiarity." As he spoke, he produced the straw hat, clearly aged from use. Its hue had shifted, yet care kept it pristine.

Zhao Hai grinned. "I wore mine for ages until it shattered beyond repair, forcing a replacement. Still, the new one's comfort lags the old. Familiarity breeds the best ease."

Feng Zhongxin burst into laughter. "Exactly. Habit makes it smoother to wield. Come on, blood jade flower seekers must be swarming now. We can't dawdle." "Yes," Zhao Hai agreed. Feng Zhongxin then guided Zhao Hai skyward, vanishing from Blood Lake Island swiftly.

Once gone, several cultivators emerged at the edge. One declared, "Brother Wen's command: tail them. Watch Feng Zhongxin's moves—ensure he doesn't whisk the target away. That'd leave us empty-handed." They assented and soared after, tracking Feng Zhongxin and Zhao Hai.

Feng Zhongxin steered Zhao Hai through twelve hours of flight before halting. Scanning the area, he murmured gravely, "Here's the spot—let's descend." He donned his straw hat. Zhao Hai followed suit. Feng Zhongxin's hand flashed, summoning a long sword.

Zhao Hai blinked at the move, then conjured two small shields for his arms. Feng Zhongxin eyed them in surprise, curiosity piqued. "Brother Zou, that's an unusual magic tool," he noted deeply.

Zhao Hai smiled. "It's built for protection. Strapped right to the arm, it frees my hands for easier poison deployment." His shields had evolved; once attack-focused and tapered, now they resembled armored guards with shield-like form. Spikes adorned them for weapon snags or strikes. Hands unbound, he could wield extras freely.

Feng Zhongxin nodded approvingly. "Smart choice. That setup bolsters safety. I'll craft a pair someday if possible." As a battle-hardened sort, he grasped their value instantly. Flexible arms made these compact shields adept at warding blows. Well-handled, they thwarted most threats without hindering motion—prime magic artifacts.

Zhao Hai chuckled. "Of course. It takes adjustment at first, but usefulness shines through quick." Feng Zhongxin agreed, and they plunged into the blood sea.