In the valley where Wu Qi had chosen to lay down the Myriad Poisons Formation, Yu Gu was carefully mixing a crock of poison soup.
It was a common-looking black clay crock, about the size of a common crock. Beneath it was an ordinary stove made of three black rocks, and dozens of bones, cut straight, were burning feebly in it. The colorful liquid in the crock was boiling due to the weak flame, its surface filled with tiny bubbles. A pungent smell wafted through the air, making everyone who inhaled it want to vomit.
The smell was beyond description. It was as if someone had mixed rotten corpses, fishes, shrimps, and numerous nasty things in a toilet bowl that had not been cleaned in three thousand years; poured in a bag of baking powder; set them aside to ferment for three to five years, and then let it mold and rot for decades. Only then such a disgusting smell could be produced.
