A thick, oily black smoke poured out from Elder Yin’s silk sleeve. It rose fast, smelling like rotten teeth and wet dirt from a fresh grave.
The green grass by the sidewalk died in two seconds. It turned into black slime that hissed against the curb.
“Die, you country dogs!” Elder Yin shrieked. He threw his head back and laughed like a mad dog. “This is the Hundred-Step Corpse-Poison Bead! If my Spirit-Merchant Guild cannot sell herbs here, nobody will! Your spirit herbs will melt! Your eyes will rot in their sockets!”
The black cloud swelled up like a huge toad. It rushed toward the glass front doors of Taichu Pavilion.
Behind the velvet ropes, two hundred loose cultivators scrambled in pure panic.
“Run! It is corpse-poison!” an old cultivator shouted, dropping his wooden cane.
“My skin is burning just smelling it!” another cried. A young mother covered her child’s nose with a thick wool scarf.
Lin Mo did not move an inch. He took a slow sip of hot tea from his thermos. The warm goji berries tasted sweet.
