Di Wu propped up Jiao Cheng and charged forward.
At this moment, the parasitic bees outside the hall had already swarmed into the Netherworld Hall, flying toward the crevice. Driven by their instinct for survival, they ignored the Flying Swords and blazing fire ahead and plunged into the corridor without hesitation.
Seeing that the situation was futile, Sword Cultivator Fan Guangyu made a decisive decision. He decapitated a tattooed man next to him with a single sword strike and kicked the corpse in the back, sending its body rolling down the corridor, slightly hindering the advance of the bee swarm. However—
The headless body of the tattooed man had barely rolled two meters down the corridor when a stack of talismans in his hand, out of control, scattered and collided with the upward-flying bees.
All the talismans shattered, triggering a burst of multicolored shockwaves, which also engulfed Fan Guangyu.
Fan Guangyu and several other tattooed men were hit head-on by the shockwave, slamming heavily against the corridor wall. He shook his head violently, trying to regain consciousness, but it was already too late.
The endless swarm of bees surged down the corridor, and the protective sword light around Fan Guangyu’s body gradually disappeared amidst the dense swarm.
Li Ang, running ahead, didn’t look back to see what was happening behind him. The collapse of the underground palace had already spread to various parts of the corridor. A massive Stone Tablet was slowly sliding down along the edge of the corridor, seemingly about to completely block it. It was too late—
Seeing Li Ang dash out of the corridor first, Di Wu clenched his teeth and hurled Jiao Cheng forward.
He himself slid forward along the ground and, just in the nick of time, propped up the Stone Tablet, leaving a gap.
Di Wu knelt on the ground, his face flushed red, holding up the Stone Tablet, allowing Jiao Cheng to crawl underneath.
The moment Jiao Cheng crawled out, the Stone Tablet crushed Di Wu’s body, leaving only an arm and a leg outside.
"The earthquake’s epicenter is right here!"
Noisy voices echoed from a distance in the underground cavern, occasionally accompanied by the distinct barking of fine dogs.
The garrison’s men had sensed the tremors here and were closing in.
Jiao Cheng had no time to mourn Di Wu’s death.
Suppressing his voice, he pulled out a small, exquisite folding Hand Crossbow from his chest and pointed it at the slowly standing Li Ang. "Help me out, get me out of here! When we get back to Chang’an, I’ll—cough, cough, cough!"
His words were cut off by a series of violent coughs.
Jiao Cheng stared in shock and horror at the filthy blood he had coughed onto his palm. His facial muscles twitched and convulsed uncontrollably, his jaw clenched shut, and his strength rapidly drained from his body.
Had it finally triggered? It was the rudimentary ricin toxin hidden in the bandages—a toxin that required several hours of contact with blood for symptoms to manifest.
Expressionless, Li Ang walked towards Jiao Cheng, whose muscles were spasming and strength was fading. He kicked the Hand Crossbow from Jiao Cheng’s grasp, crouched down, clenched the surgical knife that had slid from his own sleeve, and plunged it into Jiao Cheng’s throat.
Then, he slit Jiao Cheng’s throat, just as he had rehearsed many times in his mind.
Jiao Cheng’s hands flailed tremulously, but he couldn’t stop the blood gushing from his throat. He couldn’t even manage to pull a talisman from his robes to tear it apart and take Li Ang down with him.
Ricin poisoning first manifests as lethargy and nausea, followed by lowered blood pressure, drowsiness, and shock, eventually progressing to convulsions, coma, and inability to resist.
If Jiao Cheng had not made threats, the syringe and Glycerol in Li Ang’s medical kit might still have saved his life. But when he pulled out the Hand Crossbow, his fate was already sealed.
Li Ang indifferently withdrew the surgical knife, cleaned it with pure wine, and returned it to his medical kit. He then casually picked up the fallen stone box cover, his fingers inadvertently slipping into the box.
The next moment, the dark silk threads in the stone box shot out as if alive, the front half piercing into Li Ang’s wrist, winding beneath the thin layer of skin.