"I have three methods," Chen Ming began calmly, meeting Dugu Bo's gaze. "The first one treats neither the symptoms nor the root cause. It won't remove the poison in your body, nor will it stop it from accumulating."
Dugu Bo frowned, clearly puzzled. "Then what kind of method is that supposed to be?"
"It can only suppress the poison temporarily," Chen Ming explained, his tone steady. "It reduces its impact on you—lessens the backlash. Judging by how exhausted you look, you've been suffering from a recent flare-up, haven't you? It couldn't have been pleasant."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"This method can at least ease the severity when the poison acts up, slow down its accumulation, reduce how often it erupts, and delay its onset. In short… it can buy you some time."
Dugu Bo smacked his lips thoughtfully. To him, this was clearly a stopgap solution—treating the symptoms but not the root. And yet… if pushed, it might as well count as both.
"…That's already quite good," he admitted.
But then his expression sharpened, and questions burst out like arrows released from a bow.
"You brat, do you really have a method? Have you studied medicine? Who was your master? What do you know about poisons? What kind of treatment is this—what medicine, what process, what cost?"
Chen Ming didn't flinch under the barrage.
"I haven't formally studied under anyone," he replied honestly. "I've just read a few medical texts. But I have a good memory and can draw inferences easily, so I understand a bit. As for poisons… I wouldn't say I have any deep insights."
He spread his hands slightly.
"But this first method doesn't require medicine, injections, or any external force. You only need to adjust yourself."
"???" Dugu Bo felt as if he had just turned into a clueless recruit all over again.
"Senior, have you ever observed animals that hibernate? Snakes, turtles, frogs… even bears?"
Dugu Bo blinked, caught off guard. "…I've seen them before. What about it?"
In his younger days, lacking powerful backing, he had often hunted Spirit Beasts by taking advantage of their dormant or semi-dormant states—slipping in quietly, releasing his poison, and killing them before they could react. Naturally, he was quite familiar with such creatures, especially snakes.
"These animals differ in form, lifespan, and nature," Chen Ming said slowly, "but in winter, their behavior is remarkably similar. They reduce their consumption, enter a dormant state, and endure environmental changes through hibernation."
"When animals hibernate, their heart rate drops to an extreme low, and all bodily metabolism slows dramatically. From my observations, the slower a creature's metabolism, the longer its lifespan tends to be—not because it has stronger vitality, but because it expends less of it."
Dugu Bo's eyes flickered with realization. "You want me to hibernate like them?"
As the thought formed, he realized it wasn't entirely impossible. If his heartbeat slowed, his Spirit Power circulation weakened, and everything became subdued, then the poison's backlash would naturally diminish.
But then another thought struck him—
He wasn't alone in this world. What if something happened to Yan Yan while he was in such a state?
As that concern surfaced, he noticed the faint look of disappointment on Chen Ming's face, as though silently saying: You're missing the point.
"Not actual hibernation," Chen Ming corrected patiently. "It's about regulating your condition. When the poison shows signs of flaring up, you deliberately slow yourself down—stretch out time, reduce the intensity of the backlash, and minimize the damage and pain. In the best case, you can even prevent the poison from fully erupting."
He began explaining more concretely.
"Senior, imagine sitting cross-legged in meditation. Rest your tongue against the roof of your mouth, focus on the tip of your nose, and observe your breathing and heartbeat. Then feel the flow of your Spirit Power in your abdomen…"
"Relax your shoulders. Keep your head upright, the back of your head slightly drawn back, your chin slightly forward… clear your mind, and become aware of your senses—sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and thought."
Chen Ming gave a rough but structured explanation, believing he had made things clear enough.
But just as he finished, Dugu Bo frowned and asked bluntly—
"I know how to sit cross-legged, but I don't really understand what you're describing."
"…Right." Chen Ming pressed a hand to his forehead, exhaling softly.
Without another word, he sat down on the ground, crossing his legs, and began demonstrating the posture step by step while explaining in detail.
In truth, this form of meditation originated from Buddhist practices—a method of self-cultivation. Over time, however, the traditions of Buddhism and Daoism had influenced and absorbed from one another, refining such techniques further.
What Chen Ming was teaching now leaned more toward the Buddhist style—but adapted, simplified, and made practical for Dugu Bo's situation.
The drawback of this method was clear—there was no upper limit to how far it could go. After all, it lacked any supporting framework: no cultivation manuals, no internal scriptures, no deeper comprehension or guiding principles.
But its advantages were just as obvious. The barrier to entry was extremely low, it was easy to grasp, and there was virtually no risk of deviation or backlash. Even if one failed to master it, there would be no harmful side effects.
Following Chen Ming's example, Dugu Bo adjusted his posture and breathing under careful guidance. After some time, he slowly opened his eyes, a trace of surprise and faint joy appearing between his brows.
"It seems… my condition has stabilized a little? I don't feel as irritable as before."
Chen Ming shook his head lightly.
"Senior, you haven't even truly begun. At best, you've just regulated your breathing enough to feel a bit better. If you want to actually improve, I'd need to observe the flow of your Spirit Power and help you restructure its circulation and efficiency…"
He paused, then waved it off.
"But let's leave that for now. We'll move on."
In truth, what Dugu Bo had just achieved wasn't entirely useless—but its effects were limited. It might help him maintain a calmer state in daily life, but when the poison truly flared up, the pain would still come just as fiercely.
"The second method," Chen Ming continued, his tone steady, "treats the symptoms but not the root. It involves finding a way to release the poison from your body."
"Not continuously," he clarified, "but periodically. By venting it at intervals, you can keep the toxin at a stable level—low enough that it won't trigger a backlash."
Dugu Bo narrowed his eyes. "And the downside?"
"The benefit is immediate results. The downside is that every release will temporarily weaken your condition. It doesn't solve the fundamental problem."
"…How do I release it?"
Chen Ming answered without hesitation.
"Use something of a similar nature as a bridge. Release a portion of your Spirit Power into it, circulate it slowly, and then strip away the impurities within that Spirit Power."
"Something of a similar nature?" Dugu Bo echoed, slightly taken aback.
"Your Martial Soul is the Jade Phosphor Serpent Emperor," Chen Ming explained. "You could capture a ten-thousand-year-level Jade Phosphor Serpent. I'll try to find a way to see if that serpent can withstand your Spirit Power. Then we can use a living Spirit Beast as a medium to refine and extract the toxic essence."
He spoke calmly, as if outlining a simple procedure.
"You'll lose some strength each time, but the process will be direct and efficient."
"As for the connection medium…" Chen Ming frowned slightly. "I'll need to think about that. And I'll also need to figure out how to suppress the Spirit Beast so it won't resist. But all of this depends on one thing first—capturing a suitable ten-thousand-year Jade Phosphor Serpent for me to study."
What Chen Ming had described earlier was a form of meditative regulation rooted in inner cultivation. This second method, however, resembled an external alchemy approach—not to strengthen oneself with outside forces, but to transfer internal impurities outward.
In theory, if controlled well enough, this approach could even create the illusion of both treating the symptoms and addressing the root cause. But if anything went wrong—if the poison wasn't vented in time, or an accident occurred—death would still be inevitable.
In essence, it wasn't so different from the method once proposed by Tang San of storing poison within a Spirit Bone. The difference was that when a Spirit Bone reached its limit, it would explode, unleashing all the accumulated energy in a catastrophic backlash—unless one severed the limb, survival would be nearly impossible.
But with this external method, if something went wrong…
You could always just replace the vessel.