Mina Frost's poison arts had evolved to the level of synthetic creation, entering a realm so profound and mysterious that even gods and demons could not fathom its depths.
Quinn Shepherd couldn't help but marvel—Mina Frost's achievements in poison cultivation had already surpassed his own. She possessed a rare intuition, constantly innovating and refining her poison arts beyond anyone else.
After their poison duel, she must have absorbed some of Apothecary’s philosophy and forged her own path. That was why she could defeat Yu Qinchán with such ease.
Apothecary’s insight into poison was extraordinary, but Quinn Shepherd’s main focus had always been healing and saving lives, not poison. It was only natural that Mina Frost would surpass him in this field.
If Quinn had been the one dueling Yu Qinchán, relying on the poisons available in the arena, he would have needed to use the creation arts from the Great Nurturing Heavenly Demon Canon to alter the toxins. Though his approach was similar to Mina’s in theory, her mastery of spirit-awakening far surpassed his, and he would have needed much more time to adapt.
He could have defeated Yu Qinchán, but never with the effortless ease Mina Frost displayed.
Of course, Quinn Shepherd cultivated both medicine and poison, and sometimes his healing techniques produced miraculous results when combined with poison. If it truly came down to a life-or-death duel, it was impossible to say who would win between him and Mina.
Mina Frost leapt down from the dueling platform, still never touching the ground. A spirit-awakened vine sprang up from the earth, its broad leaves gently lifting her.
The young Poison Mistress reached out to Quinn Shepherd. He took her hand, and she pulled him up onto the vine beside her.
The vine beneath their feet rose higher and higher, bearing them aloft above the crowd. Mina Frost waved to the people below, her face brimming with joy and pride: "See? Even poison cultivators can find their dream match! This is my little man—Central Plains Heavenly Demon Cult Master, and he’s truly remarkable!"
The crowd below erupted in cheers.
A girl laughed and called out, "Poison Mistress, you went to the Central Plains and found your true love—when will you take us for a trip there too?"
Mina Frost replied with gusto, "Once my little man finishes his business, I’ll take you all to the Central Plains and let you see how our Western girls can sweep up their men!"
Another girl chimed in, "I hear the Central Plains is all about men over women—such a backward place. We should go and set them straight!"
"That’s right! Set them straight!" the crowd agreed enthusiastically.
Another girl joked, "It wasn’t easy for our Poison Mistress to finally find her soulmate—this calls for a celebration!"
Laughter and shouts echoed from the girls, when suddenly a group burst out, beating waist drums and stamping their feet, singing and dancing.
Thunder Mountain City was swept up in excitement. Countless young men and women joined hands and pressed shoulder to shoulder, singing Western folk songs in the streets.
Cultivators summoned Western spirit arts, and the city filled with vines, poisonous flowers, and wild grasses. Poison cultivators danced among the blossoms, singing mountain songs, while others stood atop rising leaves, performing with their partners.
Drums thundered below as a clear, piercing song soared above the city. Standing on the vine, Quinn Shepherd looked down and saw a massive green toad with a white belly marching from the end of the street, taking up the whole avenue. Behind it, possums with huge ears strutted along, flashing metallic scales, trailed by a swarm of toad spirits and poison creatures croaking in accompaniment.
The toad spirits flicked their tongues at the possums’ scales, producing crisp, musical notes.
Many toad spirits danced with lively steps, drumming and beating cymbals. Some blew on short flutes with four fingers, while giant centipedes tapped out twisting rhythms with their legs.
From time to time, centipedes would leap up and kick the toad spirits’ swollen bellies, prompting the toads to croak out a chorus in reply.
Atop the giant green toad, a beautiful young girl stood gracefully, her black skirt swirling as she sang out: “Up on the high mountain, oh, a locust tree stands tall. I grip the railing and gaze, hoping my lover will come. Maiden asks the girl, oh, what do you hope for? I hope for the locust flowers—when will they bloom?”
...
The ground glimmered like cold rain, and stars dotted the world. Locust flowers would soon awaken, and the girl asked the maiden, what do you ask for? Shy as locust flowers, hard to speak—when will they bloom?”
Quinn Shepherd was spellbound. Even as the vine rose ever higher, the city’s grand celebration unfolded before his eyes—the strange melody and soaring song flooding his ears.
The passionate energy of the Western girls surged like a tide, wrapping around him again and again, flooding straight into his heart.
Suddenly, the vine swooped down, carrying Quinn and Mina Frost through the bustling streets, surrounded by dancers, spirits, and poison creatures. Arms waved, steps spun, and hands reached out to touch theirs as they passed.
The music of Thunder Mountain City swelled, growing bold and joyful. Quinn felt as if he’d entered a mythic land—the giant vine carried him and Mina, weaving through the city’s broad avenues, past crowds celebrating with wild abandon.