Legendary Son-in-Law: The Man with Poison Talismans

The Wuji Staff was originally a high-level weapon of Taoist priests, a divine weapon that ordinary people could only dream of. Here, however, it was used as a wheel axle, and this extravagance alone is astonishing.

The patterns on the stick appeared and disappeared as it rolled, as if it had come to life, wriggling slightly in rhythm with the maggots.

In front of the carriage, on the outer edge of the sedan chair, sat a semi-transparent Taoist priest, his figure appearing and disappearing as if he would be blown away by the wind.

He wore a soul battle suit, the hem of which fluttered in the wind, yet not a sound could be heard.

His face was blurry, as if seen through a layer of mist, with only his two eyes vaguely visible. They were empty and unfocused, and he looked quite tired, yet he still stared intently at the road ahead.

He held a pole with a white skull frame tied to the end, extending far out like a piece of fat meat hanging in front of the black maggots, luring them to rush forward desperately.

The skeleton clearly hadn't been properly cared for; its bones were grayish-white, dry, and flimsy. Compared to the towering mutated skeleton beside Lin Mu, it was worlds apart.

However, it is precisely because it is light that the Taoist priest can lift it with less effort and control it more flexibly.

While using the skull to lure the maggots, he gently swung the pole to control the direction. When he turned left, the pole veered to the left, and when he turned right, the pole veered to the right, and the maggots obediently followed his direction.

Meanwhile, every now and then, the Taoist driver would throw a talisman into the sedan chair behind him. The talisman would fly into the sedan chair and make a "pop" sound, releasing a cloud of white mist that enveloped the entire sedan chair and himself.

Then the mist seeped out from the gaps in the sedan chair, leaving a long white trail behind it before slowly fading away.

The entire vehicle resembled a white ghost running on the official road. From a distance, the smoke and fog blended together, making it impossible to distinguish between the vehicle and the fog.

Before long, the car arrived at the entrance of Beech Palace.

The Taoist priest slowly raised the pole bound with the skull, then moved it backward, raising it to the center above the eight black maggots.

Thus, the four black maggots in front began to retreat, while the four black maggots behind continued to advance. With the mutual restraint between the front and rear, the speed of the car gradually decreased, and it finally came to a steady stop in front of the palace gate.

It provides the most comfortable braking experience for passengers in the car.

As soon as the car stopped, a Taoist priest at the palace gate cast one demon-binding spell after another. Blue and white halos fell on the black maggots, freezing them in place one by one. The car was completely stabilized, and the damage to the frame from forces in different directions was reduced.

The sedan chair door opened, and a middle-aged man in a long robe stepped out. His expression was calm, and he walked briskly into the palace.

He wore a dark green robe with no superfluous patterns, only fine gold thread embroidered on the collar and cuffs, understated yet dignified.

A bronze token hung from his waist, its dark color gleaming in the sunlight.

He walks quickly, but his steps are small, each step firm and steady, as if he had measured it out beforehand.

His hair was already gray, but his eyes were sharp, his gaze like that of an eagle. When he swept over the surrounding Imperial Guards, they all unconsciously lowered their heads.

The guards at the gate saw him and bowed in unison.

This is the commander of the Golden Guard of Fengmo Valley.

His vehicle was an official car of the Marfa Empire, provided only to frontier ministers on urgent official business. It was fast, had excellent off-road capability, and good shock absorption.

The empire was strictly hierarchical in these matters, and only Prince An and the Commander of Mengzhong each owned one in the entire Mengzhong province.

Even the lord of Shabak, the largest civilian organization, did not receive this treatment.

It wasn't that they lacked the ability to manufacture it, but rather that they were restricted by the regulations governing their status. Every axle and every rivet on this carriage represented the imperial court's recognition of the high-ranking official's status.

Even if you don't have that rank, you wouldn't dare sit on it, because doing so would be overstepping your bounds.

This is why even a princess like Gu Qingyi could only ride a horse back to Mengzhong.

The commander stepped onto the stone steps of the palace, his footsteps making a crisp sound on the bluestone slabs, echoing in front of the empty palace gate.

His back was straight, without stopping or looking around, like a fully drawn bowstring, walking straight toward the Hall of Mental Cultivation, exuding an indescribable sense of tension.

Some of the Imperial Guards whispered among themselves about why this lord had come in person. Usually, it was his subordinates who ran around delivering urgent reports.

The person next to him glared at him, and the man quickly shut up, lowered his head, and dared not say another word.

The commander's figure disappeared into the depths of the palace gate, while the official car behind him was parked in the designated parking space outside the palace gate, standing side by side with several ordinary carriages, seemingly out of place yet perfectly natural.

-

Beech Palace, Hall of Mental Cultivation.

The Empress had been waiting for a long time, holding a report in her hand. Her eyes scanned the report line by line, and her brows furrowed slightly, as if she had seen something that displeased her.

Incense wafted through the hall, candles burned quietly, and the female official stood by with her hands at her sides, not daring to make a sound.

She had served the Empress for many years and knew that Her Majesty was in a bad mood today; saying even one more word could put her in danger.

Hurried footsteps approached from outside the hall, the sound of boots clicking on the bluestone slabs echoing through the empty corridor.

The female official glanced at the Empress, and seeing that the Empress did not react, she lowered her head and stepped aside.

The Demon-Sealing Commander strode in, his dark green robe gleaming dimly in the candlelight, the corners of which were covered in dust from the journey, indicating he had traveled a long way.

He stopped at the foot of the steps, lifted his robe, knelt down, and kowtowed: "Your subject, Yang Xiong, Commander of the Demon-Sealing Golden Guard, pays his respects to Your Majesty."

His voice was steady, with the unique strength of a military general, but if you listened carefully, the end of his voice still trembled slightly.

From Fengmo Valley to Bichon, a distance of a thousand miles, he traveled day and night, and the eight black maggots grew thinner as they ran, finally arriving in the shortest possible time.

The Empress did not look up, her gaze remaining fixed on the report in her hands. After a pause, she said slowly, "Rise."

The commander stood up, his hands hanging down, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

The scent of incense in the hall mingled with the dust from his journey, making it somewhat pungent. The female official frowned but didn't dare move.

The commander took a deep breath and began to report on the situation in Fengmo Valley, trying to keep his voice steady, word by word, as if he had rehearsed it beforehand.

"Your Majesty, the criminals brought from the second level of Woma have all been incorporated into the mining area and are behaving well with no unusual behavior. Several outstanding individuals have been promoted to foremen according to the law, specifically responsible for leading mining teams, and their efficiency is much higher than before."

He paused, then added, "Some of these people originally came from wealthy families and had good backgrounds. They didn't cause trouble in the mining area; instead, they took the lead in working and influenced many others."

Chapter 120 Military Order

The Empress hummed in agreement, without looking up, her fingers lightly tracing the report.

The commander continued, "Furthermore, during this period, the Demon-Sealing Golden Guard has been cooperating with the local powerful families of Demon-Sealing Valley to jointly attack the evil venomous snakes and clear monsters from each level of the map. The casualties of the Golden Guard and its subordinates have decreased significantly, and the public response has been very positive. The leaders of several major guilds have publicly stated that His Majesty's actions have won the hearts of the people, and the efficiency of slaying demons and monsters is much higher than before. Places that solo players dared not go before are now places they dare to go, and we have even heard that some people have dared to venture into the Blazing Flame Palace alone. The demonic energy in Demon-Sealing Valley is also less than at the same time last year. This is all thanks to His Majesty's benevolent rule."

He paused here, then secretly glanced at the Empress's expression.

However, the Empress's face was obscured by the report, and the candlelight cast a shadow behind her, hiding half of her face in darkness, revealing only a section of her fair chin and slightly pursed lips.

The commander saw nothing. He was uncertain, his Adam's apple bobbed, and his palms were already sweaty.

At this moment, the Empress put down the report in her hand, picked up another one, flipped through a couple of pages, and spoke slowly and deliberately, yet every word landed heavily: "Oh? How the court governs depends on whether Lord Yang implements it effectively. Lord Yang's contribution this time is extremely high. He traveled a long way back to Bichon, and I haven't yet decided how to reward him. Does Lord Yang have any suggestions?"

Upon hearing this, the commander turned pale. He knelt down again with a thud, his forehead pressed against the cold gold brick, his voice trembling: "Your Majesty, I am guilty and have failed your trust."

The chill of the gold brick seeped into his bones through his skin, and his back was already soaked with cold sweat.

The Empress put down the report, looked up at him, her gaze neither warm nor cold, yet one dared not look directly at her: "Oh? What do you mean by this, Commander? Back then, the late Emperor saw that you were young, strong, and exceptionally talented, and nurtured you greatly. When you grew up, he appointed you as the Commander of the Demon Sealing, a position you hold until today. Unfortunately, the Demon Sealing Valley is remote and harsh, burying Lord Yang's talents and preventing him from advancing further for so many years. My dear minister, how much suffering you have endured in the Demon Sealing Valley, how many monsters you have slain, your merits are beyond question, how can you be accused of any crime?"

Sweat dripped down the commander's forehead and onto the gold bricks with a soft sound.

He gritted his teeth, his voice extremely low, as if squeezed from his throat: "Your Majesty, I am guilty... For ten years, I have failed to conquer the Strategist's Way. I have failed the late Emperor's trust and Your Majesty's confidence."

After he finished speaking, he seemed to have all his energy drained away, and his shoulders slumped down.

The hall fell silent. The candlelight flickered, and wisps of incense smoke drifted and rose slowly between the two, like an invisible wall.

The commander knelt on the steps, with the Empress's dragon throne above his head, the palace doors behind him, and silent female officials on his left and right. Yet, he felt as if he were a lonely person kneeling in the empty palace, forgotten by the whole world.

The Empress remained silent for a moment, then suddenly let out a cold laugh. The laugh wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the commander's spine, as if someone had stabbed him in the heart.

"Ten years. I've been on the throne for ten years, and you've been guarding the Demon Sealing Grounds for over twenty. You couldn't conquer the Path of the Horizontal and Vertical, the state of the Demon Soul Palace's seal is unknown, and you can forget about even getting into the Purgatory Corridor. The soldiers I gave you, the supplies I gave you, the equipment I gave you, and even those random teleportation scrolls and spirit-gathering beads I gave you—have they all gone to waste?"

Her voice wasn't loud, but every word pierced the commander's heart like a needle, or cut his flesh with a dull knife.

"How long have those white boars been blocking the doorway? How long have those wedge moths been flying on the ceiling? I review the list of casualties among the Imperial Guards every month. Do you think I don't feel sorry for them?"

The commander kept his forehead pressed to the ground, not daring to look up or speak. He knew that anything he said now would be an excuse, a way of shirking responsibility, and a death wish.

The Empress stood up, walked out from behind her desk, and stopped in front of him with unhurried steps, looking down at him.

The hem of her dragon robe almost touched his forehead, and he smelled a faint scent of ambergris mixed with the aroma of ink and paper.

"The late emperor valued you because he believed you could accomplish great things. I employ you because I also believe you can accomplish great things. But what have you done? After ten years, this is the result you've given me?"

She paused, her voice turning somber, "Yang Xiong, put your hand on your heart and tell me, how have I treated you?"

The commander trembled all over and slammed his head heavily onto the floor tiles with a thud. The sound was crisp and deep, like a stone being thrown into water.

His forehead was cut open, and bright red blood flowed down his brow bone, mixing with sweat and dripping onto the gold brick, spreading a small patch of dark red.

He gritted his teeth and said, word by word, "Your Majesty, I pledge my life. In ten days, just ten days, I will surely conquer the Zongheng Road. If I fail, I will die a thousand deaths."

The Empress stared at him for a long time without saying a word. The only sounds in the hall were the crackling of the candlelight and the commander's heavy, labored breathing.

Her gaze lingered on the bloody gash on his forehead for a moment before shifting away.

She turned around, walked back to her desk, sat down, picked up the report, and said calmly, "Ten years have passed. I won't mind waiting another ten days. I await your news. You may leave."

The commander kowtowed deeply, prostrating himself on the ground and saying, "Your subject obeys the decree."

His voice was hoarse, tinged with tears, yet also carrying a fierce determination to go all out.

After he finished speaking, he stood up and took several steps back, each step firmly planted as if he were engraving his footprints on the gold bricks.

He turned around and strode out of the hall.

The palace doors slowly closed behind him, shutting out the outside wind and the dust and sweat covering his body.

Yang Xiong stood under the eaves, and a gust of night wind made him shiver from the cold sweat on his back.

He looked down at his hands, which were still trembling.

It's not just fear, but also the trembling of adrenaline after a gambler has staked everything.

More than twenty years have passed. He has gone from being full of vigor to having graying temples. His contemporaries have all been promoted or transferred, but he is still guarding this godforsaken place of Fengmo.

He also wanted to rise to the top cleanly, but the Demon Sealing system didn't allow for the release of special rings, and the imperial court only intervened a few times a year.

His years of indifference emboldened him. One stroke, two strokes, three strokes... From initial trepidation to later familiarity and habit, he thought this was how his life would be.

Now the Empress has finally intervened, and the sealing of demons has finally been taken seriously, albeit in the worst possible way.

As for the ten-day military order, ten days it is. Of the things allocated from the national treasury, besides what was already flowing out, he had kept some for himself. Originally, he planned to wait until he completely quit the job before liquidating them, but now it seems he'll have to invest it all.

Chapter 121 Purgatory Corridor

If he could capture Zongheng Road within ten days, he could atone for his mistakes and perhaps even save his life. He dared not even think about failing to capture it.

Amidst his turbulent emotions, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled letter from home.