Chapter 45: Greed

A sudden hiss split the night, and in an instant, the entire Phoenix Creek seemed to ignite as though set aflame by some invisible hand.

The men and boats of the Iron Sword Sect were engulfed by fire in the blink of an eye.

Standing on the riverbank, Ning Xiu felt a wave of heat wash over him, as if he had been cast into the heart of a giant furnace. From the river came one shrill, agonized scream after another, each piercing the silent night with a harshness that set every nerve on edge.

The townsfolk on both sides of Phoenix Creek had long since been roused from sleep by the commotion. Watching the flames leap across the sky, who could hope to return to their slumber? Driven by curiosity, crowds soon gathered along both banks.

A few elders stood gazing at the river in stunned silence, as if some long-buried memory had surfaced. They muttered words too faint for any but themselves to hear, their eyes clouded with terror.

“Damn it, what new monsters are these this time?”

Ning Xiu’s eyes were fixed on the blaze consuming the river. Within the firelight, dark shapes began to emerge—many of them, crawling slowly toward the shore.

As they drew nearer, Ning Xiu realized these shadows were desiccated corpses, their bodies charred black, the unmistakable mark of having been carbonized. One could only imagine the agony they had suffered in life.

These corpses moved swiftly—far faster than the corpse-puppets Ning Xiu had encountered in Gujia Village—almost matching the speed of an ordinary adult.

They quickly reached the shore. A young member of the Bamboo Grove Society, caught off guard, was instantly tackled to the ground.

“Let me go!”

In a panic, the young man drew his broadsword and slashed at the corpse, but his blow was too forceful, and the blade became lodged in bone. The corpse paused, turned its head to glance at him, then opened its mouth and bit down savagely.

…

Scenes like this unfolded in every corner along both banks of Phoenix Creek.

The desiccated corpses moved like bloodthirsty beasts, and the townsfolk by the river were the most delectable prey in their eyes.

“Ning Elder, what in heaven’s name is going on?” Forcing his way through the crowd, Yuan Hao reached Ning Xiu’s side.

“Gather our people—leave at once!”

“Now! Why are you still standing there? Move!” Ning Xiu shouted.

A guttural roar erupted before he had finished speaking. More than a dozen corpses lunged at him in unison.

It was as if Ning Xiu had eyes in the back of his head—without looking, he spun and swung his blade. In a blink, a dozen skulls were severed, tumbling to the ground in a clatter of bone.

But unlike the corpse-puppets he had seen before, these bodies, even after losing their heads, did not stop. Now headless, they continued their relentless assault.

Seeing this, Ning Xiu’s expression grew cold, as did the steel in his hand.

This time, he severed their legs, then their arms. Yet even reduced to little more than torsos, they still crawled forward, refusing to rest until, at last, they finally stilled.

Such tenacity—what kind of unending death was this?

Even Ning Xiu could not help but draw a sharp breath.

He looked up to see more corpses crawling from the inferno, an endless tide.

Ning Xiu understood that, even for him, if he continued to fight without end, death would be his only reward.

Across the river, Song Gaoju fared no better.

“Monstrosities,” he muttered. “Phoenix Creek has bred abominations.”

“No wonder Yan Song and the others died so quietly.” As the Iron Sword Sect’s second-in-command, Song Gaoju understood the horror of these creatures even more clearly than Ning Xiu.

He felt his courage draining away. After fending off a few corpses, he cast one last look at the burning merchant vessel, then turned and fled without a trace of hesitation.

To him, Phoenix Creek was now a forbidden place. Even if the creek yielded gold dust, even if pure gold ingots lay at the bottom, he would never return.

“They’ve come for revenge—vengeful spirits, come to claim their due,” an old man whispered, his legs buckling as he collapsed to his knees.

Despair filled the old man’s eyes, but when the corpse’s bloody claws swung toward him, there was a glimmer of relief as well.

He closed his eyes, waiting for death. But death did not come.

He looked up to see a figure standing before him, the corpse already cleaved in two.

“What truly happened twenty years ago?”

Ning Xiu turned, seized the old man by the collar, and lifted him bodily from the ground. His face was twisted with fury, making him appear almost demonic.

“Speak!”

What had transpired two decades ago was clearly far more complicated than these elders made it seem in daylight tales.

Ning Xiu could sense a boundless resentment, seething as fiercely as the flames rising over Phoenix Creek.

“The people on both sides of Phoenix Creek have always lived by fishing. I was a fisherman myself. That day, as usual, I went out to cast my nets, when I saw a great ship enter the creek and run aground in the middle of the river.”

He glanced at the burning ship, lost in memory.

“From the way the ship moved, it was clear the people aboard were in a panic. Soon they called out for help, and we learned it was a merchant vessel from Jiangling. They’d been attacked by river bandits on the Fen River, and in their desperate escape—protected by their guards—they’d blundered into Phoenix Creek.”

“The ship was stuck in the river’s heart, unable to advance or retreat. They pleaded with us for rescue. The wealthy merchant aboard tossed us a gold ingot as an incentive.”

The old man’s face flushed; he coughed and went on, “It was the first time in my life I’d ever seen such gleaming gold, and I’m sure it was the same for the others.”

“We fishermen exchanged glances, and instead of helping, we began haggling for a higher price.”

Ning Xiu listened, picturing the scene with grim clarity.

Human greed knows no bounds—when one step is gained, another is always desired.

“The more we received, the less satisfied we were. We thought of all our years of toil, rising before dawn, braving wind and rain, just to scrape by. Why should these people enjoy in a day what we could never earn in a lifetime?”

The old man’s eyes reddened as he panted for breath. “At first, the merchant was desperate, fearful the bandits would find them at any moment. But eventually he realized the bandits must have lost their trail. He stopped offering us money and began threatening to report us to the authorities.”

“It makes sense—the bandits would never expect him to run straight into a dead end like this,” the old man said with a self-mocking laugh. “But by then, our greed had been awakened, and no threat could quell it.”

What followed was not hard to guess: simple fishermen transformed into ruthless, savage bandits…