Poison God's Heritage

Chapter 35: Puppet Maker

The Automaton would have me killed in less than the time I could even think about activating Poison Escape. The qualitative difference between this Automaton and the cultivator that tried to cut off my head was like heaven and earth.

However, I was still alive, and the automaton was just standing there with its hand raised in attacking action. I knew that whatever was happening in its mind was conflicting with his action. But I’m not going to stand here until it made its choice. After all the two choices it could make were: kill or no kill, and I don’t want to find which right now. I’ll make my own choice.

I infused poison Qi in my hand and struck with my right palm. The palm attack transformed into a clawed hand attack and it was the Poison Tiger fist, the claws struck against the broken sword tip embedded into the Automaton’s heart and forced the sword tip right through where it should have been in the first place, right through the Automaton’s heart, or in this case its core.

An electric current spread through the body of the automaton as it dropped to its knees and fell to its face.

The Poison God’s book shone bright and shot out of my chest, it opened up and began consuming the automaton, sucking in the robot inside it.

Then the book flew away from me.

"Wait!" I shouted but the book didn’t care it kept floating and moving away back through the stairs.

I chased after it... more like ran after it as the thing was too fast and I’m still old.

Once I arrived on the top floor, I saw a strange sight. The Automatons or their parts were being sucked into the book. The whole room, every bit, piece, and bolt were consumed into the book.

"How big is that stomach of yours?" I questioned not expecting a reply.

An image came to view, and it was shocking. The book could literally fit in something the size of a football field’s worth of stuff. And so far, it didn’t have more than a fraction of its size full.

Suddenly the book closed up after it had fully consumed the parts and shot towards me. It opened up on a new page.

***

Puppet Maker.

An occupation that could entitle its owner limitless riches. It all depends on one’s resources and resourcefulness.

Here are my few notes on the topic. I was never a great Puppet Maker, but the few I made helped me greatly, from fetching my food to massacring my enemies. It can do all sorts of things. And with my little, information regarding the topic, you, my Disciple could create something that could help you in your journey.

***

After reading through the lengthy notes of the Poison God, which by the way took me more than a day. I calmed down, thinking about all the possible things I could do in creating a puppet that I can fully control. This would be a great subject to test so many of my ideas.

I smiled as I thought about creating building-sized Mechas or robotic ninja squads, but all of that can wait. Right now, I’ll need to leave this area.

It took me a long time to finally find the exit. As I had to backtrack to where I last entered.

Yet I heard a lot of noise coming from outside. There were people waiting outside, or perhaps another group waiting to get inside. If I encounter them, I’ll be in trouble.

I had a good idea right there and then.

I pulled out a large batch of Joyful Weed, lit it up on my pipe, and then breathed it out using my own Poison Qi. I didn’t want to kill anyone so I vastly reduced the potency of my Poison Qi and only applied its power to empower the Joyful Weed’s effects.

Bellowing gout of smoke shot from inside the cave and permeated through the camp. The people outside started clamoring, thinking that this was an attack, but after a while, a wide laughing hysteria spread. As most of the people outside were mortals, the effects of the poison Qi and the cultivator plant on them were far too powerful.

I didn’t kill anyone thankfully, the dose I applied was just perfect. Enough to cause mortals to start laughing like the mad and to draw the attention of the cultivators. This way I was able to walk through the smoke and pull out the massive flying sword from the book.

I stepped on it and willed it to move forward.

The sword shot through the smoke leaving the cultivators bewildered about what happened and who was behind the smoke that came out of the cave.

I kept traveling through the forestation and open areas of the land of Zhou. The whole dammed country looked like if it was endless. Days of travel are only accompanied by smoking some Joyful Weed or eating the Braided Petal and the same scenery repeating itself, forests after forests. And rivers after rivers as I continued my trek to the Empire Capital.

The more I thought about my idea to kidnap the Emperor the more dumb and stupid it became. The man should undoubtedly have information regarding the destruction of my sect. But it’s idiotic to try my hand on the Emperor without fully knowing how powerful his retainers are. He could easily have a nascent Soul cultivator, who could obliterate me.

The travel to the imperium was a drag, a boring drag, and this gave me thought about how those cultivators of those stories supported such a lonely and awkward silence where they couldn’t talk to anyone or anything, hell if I had a writer for my story, I’d ask them for a small companion, otherwise I’d be getting crazy in no time, and that’s not good for the readers.

After a lengthy boring while, I saw a group of people attacking a caravan. Mountain bandits, hiding in the mountains all day long and only attack people through the road. They assault travelers, kill the men, kidnap the women and take the loot for themselves.

I’ve had dealings with such people before, they always attacked my caravans whenever I sent them from Lucid Spring to the nearby cities to get resources and materials.

And due to the richness of Lucid Spring, it was a new city that beckoned flies from all over the area. The bandits being the flies in this statement.

I had to hire some guards and a powerful group of men to wait and lay in ambush for the bandits, then I even disguised several carts full of soldiers instead of goods. It was to the point that only one in every five carriages had real merchandise. And I was still making a profit. Four carriages full of burly men were far less expensive than a carriage full of gold, and precious metal.

I hated bandits with all my soul, and I was not going to stand still and watch a massacre happen right in front of me.

I flew down with my sword and hovered above the group of bandits that were awestruck as they saw a man floating in the air.

"So, what do we have here?" I asked.

And all I received were wails and screams as men began shouting their lungs out like little girls finding out that there actually was a boogeyman under their bed.

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