Chapter 11: This Makes No Sense

In the outskirts near the third ring road of Jiangning City, there was a residential complex called Yanlong, consisting of more than a dozen six-story buildings. The home of Zhuang Zhou’s family was in Building 3, Unit 1, Apartment 201—a tiny one-bedroom apartment of less than forty square meters, where the family of three had always lived.

Zhuang Zhou’s father was a skilled worker at the steel mill. It was only through his life’s savings that he managed to buy this modest apartment. His mother, plagued by poor health, had been out of work for several years, occasionally picking up odd jobs here and there. Life was a constant struggle and hardship for them.

The twenty-year-old model building had lost its luster, the walls dulled with age. As Zhuang Zhou entered, he saw the wooden reclining chair his father had meticulously carved for him as a child, and the black-and-white photograph of the three of them on the wall. A wave of memories swept over him, threatening to engulf him.

His nose stung with emotion. Just the sight of this cramped, dimly lit old apartment, filled with household items that had been used for decades—appliances nearly as old as himself—reminded him how poor the living conditions had always been. It was painfully clear to him now that his family’s life had never been easy.

His parents had endured so much, managing to support him through university against all odds. Still, they persisted, gritting their teeth through hardship. They had always said that even if the family was left with nothing, they would see him grow into a capable man.

In that instant, feelings from both this life and his previous existence as the Venom Immortal surged together—fragmented memories flooding in. Only after a long moment did Zhuang Zhou regain his composure. He murmured, “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours. Our parents, our home—I’ll take care of them. You can rest easy.”

It was only now that Zhuang Zhou truly accepted and integrated into this world. Sitting on his bed, he carefully took out the exquisitely crafted box he had redeemed from Zhang Yu earlier.

The box was ancient in appearance, its carved floral patterns steady and skillful, the blossoms lifelike and beautiful—clearly a rare antique. Others might not know its origin, but Zhuang Zhou was intimately familiar with it.

With practiced ease, Zhuang Zhou found a specific petal among the carvings, then pressed seven times in succession on other petals. The box began to turn with a series of clicks. After a dozen seconds or so, the entire box rotated in a dazzling display. At last, with a crisp snap, the mechanism unlocked, and the box unfolded.

The Ghost Nine Needles.

Silver needles to heal and save lives; steel needles to kill and claim souls.

The Ghost Nine Needles consisted of two sets. The silver needles were for healing—each of varying length and thickness, cold light glittering on their surfaces. The long needles were slim and resilient, the lance needles sharp and keen, and there were also blade needles, round needles, fine needles, and large needles—nine types in all, all forged from secret silver of another world, immune to fire, impervious to water, unmoved by stone, and untarnished by poison.

The steel needles were for killing—uniform in length and thickness, their entire bodies dark as ink, unadorned and simple. Each was encased in a sheath, with both ends capable of extending or retracting. The tips were razor-sharp, forged from celestial iron, able to pierce anything and slice steel like mud.

Zhuang Zhou had learned from his memories that he had acquired this treasure entirely by chance—he had found the box as a child, playing in the ancestral hall of the Zhuang family, and had hidden it away simply because he thought it was interesting.

To the old Zhuang Zhou, before his reincarnation, the Ghost Nine Needles were useless—unless you counted pawning them to pay debts.

But to the Venom Immortal, these were potent weapons. Zhuang Zhou had believed the Ghost Nine Needles lost forever when he reincarnated, but now, in this strange twist of fate, they had returned to his hands. Perhaps they too had crossed worlds with him, only separated along the way.

“Old friend, it’s been a long time,” Zhuang Zhou couldn’t help but murmur.

With them, his chances of curing Old Master Ye had just increased.

At that moment, a rustling sound came from outside the door. Zhuang Zhou quickly put away the needle box and stood up, curious. Both his parents should be at work at this hour—no one ought to be home. Could it be a group of petty thieves?

He peered through the window outside and saw a group of odd-looking people gathering below. Some carried cans of red paint, others black dog’s blood, even dead rats and foul things, all walking toward his home.

No matter how slow Zhuang Zhou might have been, he knew exactly what this gang was here for.

He stepped out, locked the door, then stood to the side, coldly watching as more than a dozen people swaggered up to the Zhuang family’s door. They ignored Zhuang Zhou, standing aside, while two of them began plastering big-character posters in the hallway.

The blood-red words on the posters instantly infuriated Zhuang Zhou.

"Zhuang Yiqiang owes a debt! Wang Shujuan, pay up!"

Zhuang Yiqiang was Zhuang Zhou’s father, and Wang Shujuan was his mother. Clearly, this group was here to collect a debt.

“Boss, the door’s locked. What now?” One of them pushed at the door, found it wouldn’t budge, and turned to the man with the heavy gold chain.

The man with the gold chain sneered, grunting, “The usual way!”

“Heh, got it, boss. First we put up the posters, then we block the lock, and if they still don’t pay, we splash red paint and throw in dead rats. If that doesn’t work, we use black dog’s blood and toss dung—if they still don’t pay, we’ll blast funerary music on loudspeakers, send funeral wreaths, and even hire mourners for the living!”

The lackey was promptly smacked on the head. The gold chain man snapped, “You know the drill—why ask me? Get on with it!”

“Alright, Boss Erbing, just watch me!”

Zhuang Zhou’s fury could no longer be contained. Seeing these bastards about to defile his family’s door, he stepped forward and said coldly, “Boss Erbing, is it? Just how much does this family owe you?”

Erbing turned, giving Zhuang Zhou only a cursory glance. “Oh? What, you planning to pay for them?”

Zhuang Zhou shook his head. “How much do they owe? Is it worth stooping to this?”

“No intention of paying? Then get out of the way and don’t waste my time! Liu Qiang, stop gawking—get to work!”

Zhuang Zhou’s anger flared. Stepping forward, he grabbed the man by the collar and said coldly, “I’ll pay for them, but I want to see the numbers. How much do they owe?”

“Sure, sure,” Erbing grinned, unfazed by Zhuang Zhou’s grip. “Since you’re paying, you’re my customer—my honored guest!”

Zhuang Zhou ground his teeth. “Tell me, exactly how much?”

“Three hundred thousand!” Erbing pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his bag, waved it in Zhuang Zhou’s face, and smiled. “Debts must be repaid—three hundred thousand, clear as day!”

Zhuang Zhou stared for a moment. Then, seeing the contract, he nearly burst with rage.

“Am I the one who doesn’t know numbers, or have you never been to school? It clearly says thirty thousand—where do you get three hundred thousand from? Trying to scam me?” Zhuang Zhou’s eyes blazed.

Erbing kept up his cheerful facade. “Brother, I know my numbers—I went to school too. Look, thirty thousand is the principal, but the interest is high, and it compounds. Now it’s three hundred thousand. If you understand, pay up quickly—we’ve got other houses to visit. Don’t waste our time!”

A bitter taste filled Zhuang Zhou’s mouth. He hadn’t realized just how dire his family’s situation was. The old Zhuang Zhou had ignored all this, wasting his tuition and neglecting his studies, forgetting even his parents’ sacrifices. If not for their only son, his honest parents would never have fallen in with loan sharks or borrowed this money.

A parent’s love is as heavy as a mountain.

The old Zhuang Zhou had been powerless to change anything, but now he was different. Taking a deep breath, he said calmly, “I’ll repay the principal, but I can’t accept that interest. It’s been less than a year—the most you’re owed is three thousand in interest. I’m being generous. You can leave—the money will be ready tomorrow.”

The old Zhuang Zhou would never have dared say this, but today, having just acquired an internet café, there should be some money left in the account. Repaying a little over thirty thousand shouldn’t be a problem.

“Leave? You think you can make a fool of me? You take me for a pushover? I’m telling you, it’s three hundred thousand—not a penny less! I want the money today, or I’ll use everything I brought on this house! Boys, get your gear—move!” Erbing’s face changed in a flash, his earlier customer service smile vanishing, replaced by open menace.

These thugs really had no shame.

Faced with their aggressive posturing, Zhuang Zhou’s anger only intensified; kindness was always exploited by the wicked.

With a thought, Zhuang Zhou began to mutter under his breath, and his fierce demeanor and the killing aura emanating from him made the gang retreat in terror. Even though the Venom Immortal’s power had diminished greatly in this life, his presence still radiated death.

“Snakes! Snakes!”

“Damn, so many scorpions! Boss Erbing, help!”

“Boss Erbing, look at the wall—spiders! I hate those hairy things!”

“Ah! Rats, so many rats—don’t come near me! Your friend wasn’t killed by me, it was Boss Erbing! Go after him, not me!”

“Centipedes! Aren’t they supposed to be harmless? Why are they all crawling toward me? Boss Erbing, save me!”

—

In an instant, a riot of venomous snakes, scorpions, spiders, rats, centipedes, millipedes, fire ants, hornets, and poisonous toads swarmed into view, surrounding the dozen or so men in the middle. None of them had ever seen such a terrifying spectacle; they turned pale, their hands shaking, their knees weak.

Only Boss Erbing kept his terrified gaze locked on Zhuang Zhou. He was sure it was his doing. Even though it defied all logic, what did a man who’d barely finished elementary school know of science?

“This isn’t natural… this isn’t natural…” he kept muttering.

The Venom Immortal was not to be feared—it was only when you angered him that you truly courted disaster. Though Zhuang Zhou’s powers were much diminished, he was still, after all, the Venom Immortal.