Anyone who sees Poison Clothes Qinghong Workshop would think that the poison cultivators in the town have gone mad—indeed, tens of thousands of people have fallen into a collective frenzy.
Despite being shrouded in poisonous smoke, countless figures congregate around the Pavilion Masters.
The Four Great Pavilion Masters secrete neuro-stimulant toxins that drive everyone into uncontrollable excitement, their faces plastered with smiles, cheering ecstatically.
The usually orderly sound of drums and gongs has turned into chaotic, piercing noise.
One poison cultivator walks down the street, his flesh slipping off his legs like melting butter, yet he seems entirely indifferent, his sanity already obliterated.
Ordinary citizens huddle inside their homes, peeking out through windows to observe the absurd scenes unfolding outside.
Their faces are marked by despair.
