Rise of the Demon Dragon

Chapter 6: Journey to the Valley of Poisons

For nearly a month, Zyren had been studying poisons and their antidotes under his master’s guidance.

He also learned about various medicinal concoctions. In addition to being a black-clad warrior, his grandfather was an expert in medicine.

Unbeknownst to him, his body’s resilience and strength had drastically increased during his studies.

The old man frequently sent him to gather various ingredients, often in the remote corners of the forest.

Sometimes, the ingredients were at the tops of towering trees, forcing him to climb to retrieve them. He also had to fend off dangerous animals lurking in the dark forest and dig deep into the earth to find the materials his grandmaster required. 

Gradually, his body adapted to moving through the forest and staying alert to the constant dangers.

Through this training, Zyren was introduced to various rare plants that were beneficial for enhancing physical strength. During his time with his grandfather, he consumed high-quality food provided by the forest.

“Zyren, tomorrow we will start our journey to the Valley of Poisons. It’s best if you prepare the supplies we’ll need today,” his grandfather master instructed.

“Alright, Master.”

There weren’t many items to bring, but various tools for making poisons and medicinal ingredients required special handling.

At least two types of dangerous poisons were stored in small clay pots the size of chicken eggs. If these poisons broke, the noxious fumes could be extremely hazardous.

Zyren was fortunate to become acquainted with such potent poisons at a young age. It had taken his master many years to create them. He had never taken on a disciple before, preferring solitude in the forest to perfect his skills and powers.

But what use were all his acquired skills if they would be buried with him when he died? By chance, the old man found Zyren. Eventually, this young man would inherit all his knowledge and achievements from decades of martial arts adventures and years of solitary seclusion in the forest.

The next day, the master and student began their journey to the Valley of Poisons.

Since Zyren had not yet mastered inner strength, his master couldn’t use body-lightening techniques, or he would lag far behind.

They traveled on foot day and night to reach the Valley of Poisons, crossing several villages and passing through more forests along the way.

As they passed through a village, Zyren felt a sudden pang of longing. He had been in the forest with his master for nearly three months, and seeing other people felt refreshing.

For his disciple, the old master was ready to face the shadows of his past, even after ten years of peace.

Once, the old man—known as the ‘Leander Demon Warrior’ —was one of the most feared figures by both black and white-clad warriors throughout Isle of Vaelrith. 

In his youth, he roamed the entire island, challenging any warrior he met. He was fortunate not to encounter anyone more skilled than himself, which allowed him to live long enough to meet Zyren.

He had killed hundreds of warriors from various schools, most of whom were from the white-clad sect. This earned him the nickname Demon Warrior, the soul-reaper with deadly poison skills.

In the end, the old man chose seclusion not out of fear but because he found such battles meaningless.

Being among society only led to endless combat.

Vengeance would never end and would be passed down through generations.

To prevent further bloodshed, the Leander Demon Warrior chose to live in the quiet forest, among trees, animals, and even forest spirits.

Nevertheless, if challenged, he would face his opponent honorably. After all, the path of a warrior is the path of combat.

“Are you tired, Zyren?” the old man asked, noticing his disciple’s slight weariness.

“Not yet, master. I can still walk a long distance,” Zyren replied, determined not to appear weak in front of his master.

“That’s good to hear. There’s an inn up ahead; let’s stop by,” said the old master.

“Are you sure you want to go there? I can still walk to the forest and find food there,” Zyren said, concerned that his master wanted to stop at the inn out of sympathy for him.

“No. Sometimes, we need a change of scenery. As a warrior, you shouldn’t be closed off. That would hinder your development,” the old master advised.

“Alright, master,” he responded briefly.

The inn was quite crowded, but there was still room for Zyren and his grandfather. 

They entered and sat in one of the empty corners. However, before they could even relax, a man who had been there earlier suddenly spoke roughly.

“Old man, that spot belongs to our master. You’d better find another place,” the man said arrogantly.

It was no surprise, as he was the tallest and largest among his group—a lackey of someone who had yet to appear.

Zyren felt a surge of anger and wanted to kick the man who dared to speak to his master so rudely.

After all, he was a former bandit trained by a true bandit. 

He was not used to being patient, except when dealing with his superiors during his time as a soldier of Aetherion, and only because they were far more powerful and skilled than he was.

His master patted Zyren’s shoulder, urging him to leave. In his younger days, the old man had faced similar situations countless times and had killed people like that many times as well. At the height of his maturity as a warrior, he realized that killing such people was utterly pointless.

The master and his disciple left the inn, but the waiter stopped them and found another place for them to sit. 

The old master calmly returned to the inn and walked to the spot indicated by the waiter.

Zyren followed, his heart still simmering with anger toward the group, especially as they overheard their loud, nonsensical chatter meant for everyone in the inn to hear.

Zyren’s gaze locked with the imposing figure who had earlier driven them away. 

Fearlessly, he gave him a look of pure disdain, and the man returned it. But just as things were about to escalate, the old man diverted Zyren’s attention.

“Why are you angry?” the master asked softly.

“That man was very rude to you,” he replied.

“It’s to be expected. We were sitting in the wrong place. Let it go. We’re here to relax, not to look for trouble,” said the old master.

“Alright, master,” Zyren said.

But the incident weighed heavily on him, and he couldn’t shake it off. Soon enough, the tall, muscular man approached Zyren’s seat—not to apologize, but to pick a fight.