Every passing second felt like an eternity of torment. Wei Shen swayed above the massive corpse of the "Poisonous Sand Scorpion," the burning pain from the tail's sting on his left shoulder spreading through his body with terrifying speed. It was no longer just pain; he began to feel a cold numbness creeping through his arm, threatening to paralyze him completely. His vision started to blur, and the gray earth beneath his feet seemed to undulate and spin.
"A neurotoxin… potent and fast-spreading," he rasped, beads of cold sweat gathering on his forehead. "Complete paralysis… then death. That is the expected course if I do nothing."
There was no time for regret or despair. That part of his consciousness which had once been Emperor Arthur, honed through years of conspiracies and crises, was now working at its utmost capacity—analyzing, calculating, searching for any loophole, any chance for survival.
"Spoils first," he decided with deadly coldness, ignoring the dizziness that nearly sent him sprawling. "Even if I die, my death must have a price."
With trembling hands, and with great difficulty due to the numbness spreading in his left arm and affecting his balance, he bent towards the scorpion's carcass. His ivory dagger was still embedded deep at the base of the beast's tail. He pulled it out forcefully, feeling a cold satisfaction as he saw the scorpion's black, viscous blood flow from the wound.
His priority was blood for the "Blood-Devouring Stone." He took out the leather waterskin, now his permanent vessel for blood offerings, and tried to collect as much of the scorpion's blood as possible. His hands were losing their precision, and some of the precious blood spilled onto the ash, eliciting a suppressed curse from him.
Then, the beast core. He knew it was located somewhere in the scorpion's head or chest.
He began to stab almost randomly with his dagger at the hard black armor, trying to find a weak point. Every movement required immense effort, and with every second, he felt the venom creeping deeper into his body. His legs began to tremble, and he sensed his ability to stand dwindling.
"Faster… I must be faster!" he screamed in his mind.
Finally, after several desperate attempts, his dagger pierced a relatively thinner part of the armor near the scorpion's head, and he felt something hard and round within. He inserted his hand, now partially numb, and fumbled until he grasped the core. It was larger and warmer than the tiger's core, and it throbbed with a much stronger spiritual energy, an energy carrying the very essence of this poisonous scorpion. He pulled it out forcefully and quickly placed it in his pouch.
There was no time to take anything else – not the massive claws, nor the hard armor, not even the venom from the stinger. He felt his consciousness beginning to fade.
"The cave…" That was the only thought he clung to. "I must return to the cave."
He began to drag his body, which had become as heavy as lead. Every step was agony. He would fall, then struggle to his feet, then fall again. The forest, which had seemed like a promising hunting ground just a short while ago, had now become a labyrinth of pain and despair.
Could the "Blood-Devouring Stone" help him? Could the dark energy it granted resist this venom? In a moment of desperation, he tried to focus on the stone, to summon its power. But the stone was silent, cold, indifferent.
"The stone wants blood, offerings," Wei Shen realized with bitterness. "It doesn't care about the vessel that carries those offerings, as long as there's more in the future."
He continued crawling, guided by his instinct and the remnants of his memory of the direction. The "Blood Qi" in his body was trying to resist the venom; he felt that internal struggle, that cold energy attempting to push the poison out or neutralize it. Perhaps that was why he was still conscious, still moving. The "Blood Qi" had slowed the venom's spread a little, but it hadn't stopped it. This was merely a postponement of death, not salvation from it.
After what felt like an eternity of torment, he finally reached the cave entrance. He collapsed to the ground, panting, foam appearing at his lips. His body was trembling violently, and the numbness had reached his chest, making breathing increasingly difficult.
"The end… Is this the end?" he thought, a strange sense of cold calm beginning to wash over him, the calm of inevitable death. "To die like a poisoned insect in a dark hole… What a trivial end for a former emperor."
Then, in the midst of this despair, as the last threads of his consciousness were about to snap, he remembered something. Something he had seen while collecting his spoils from the scorpion.
"The venom sac…"
He had seen the venom sac, full of dark green liquid, while extracting the beast core. He hadn't taken it; there hadn't been time. But the idea, insane and desperate, flashed in his fading mind.
"Poison against poison…" he rasped, his lips barely moving. "The logic of madmen… or perhaps… desperate genius."
He knew this was utter madness. Using the scorpion's own venom as a cure? But what did he have to lose? Death was already knocking at his door.
With the last remnants of his willpower, that steel will that had never surrendered, he forced his body to move once more. He couldn't stand, so he began to crawl, dragging himself out of the cave, back the few meters to where he had left the scorpion's carcass.
Every movement tore at his body. But he pressed on.
He reached the corpse. It was still there; no other predator had approached it yet. His hand trembled as he searched for the venom sac. He found it. It was still full of that viscous, deadly green liquid.
Using his ivory dagger, which had fallen beside him, and with fingers that were numb and barely responsive to his commands, he made a very small slit in the venom sac. A single, tiny drop of the dark green venom appeared on the tip of the dagger.
Wei Shen looked at it, his eyes half-closed. This was either swift suicide, or… or an incredibly slim chance.
"Either I live as the 'Demonic Heir'… or die like a poisoned insect in this accursed wasteland," the echo of his last thoughts resonated in his fading consciousness.
With the last shred of his awareness, he raised the dagger to his mouth and allowed that tiny drop of pure venom to fall onto his tongue.
The moment the venom touched his tongue, an indescribable pain exploded through his body. It was a thousand times worse than the original scorpion sting. He felt as if liquid fire were coursing through his veins, burning every cell, tearing every nerve. His body trembled with uncontrollable violence, his back arched, and he let out a suppressed scream that wasn't entirely human.
Then, darkness swallowed him once more.
But this time, the darkness was different. It wasn't the quiet darkness of death, but a darkness teeming with pain, with struggle, and with… a very faint glimmer of something else.
Something like… life, resisting.