Chapter 62: Gathering Storm

Lingnan County, Old Zhang’s noodle shop in the west of the city welcomed a peculiar guest today.

He was a wanderer of the martial world; Old Zhang was no stranger to such people, but this visitor was truly odd.

The man wore a mulberry bamboo straw hat, pulled so low that it concealed not only his brows and eyes but shrouded his entire face in its shadow.

All Old Zhang could see was one hand.

Yes, just one.

His palm was broad, his fingers slender, nails trimmed short—rarely had Old Zhang seen such clean, handsome hands on a man.

He ordered a pot of wine and a bowl of spring noodles.

He took only a sip of the wine, ate very little, and did so with extraordinary slowness. Each chopstickful was handled with utmost care; even his eating was so cautious, Old Zhang could hardly imagine how slow he must be at other things.

Fortunately, business was quiet today. Old Zhang dusted off a tablecloth, sat down, and watched the strange guest. He wondered if the man was pitiable, missing an arm—who knows whose blade had severed it.

Life as a drifter in the martial world was hard enough; losing an arm made it even harder to survive. No wonder he approached his meal so earnestly—perhaps he was at the end of his road.

Thinking thus, Old Zhang’s gaze fell on the blade behind the man.

It was an unusually shaped knife, at least seven or eight inches longer than common blades, and lacked a scabbard. The handle was pitch black, forged of unknown material, utterly devoid of sheen.

Most likely worthless scrap iron, Old Zhang thought, eyeing the man’s faded, well-worn clothes.

He resolved to lecture his grandson, who dreamed daily of becoming a hero. The martial world is no easy place to survive!

Only a few can afford to dine at the Pine Crane Pavilion; most are so impoverished they end up eating Old Zhang’s noodles.

With this thought, Old Zhang felt a surge of pride, his resolve strengthened to have his grandson inherit the noodle shop.

The Pine Crane Pavilion, as Old Zhang mentioned, was one of the most luxurious taverns in Lingnan County, situated just across the street from his noodle shop.

By chance, a group of martial artists emerged from the Pine Crane Pavilion, faces flushed, speaking animatedly as they walked.

"Have you heard? Just yesterday, the Iron Sword Sect dispatched a hundred elite fighters to Songfeng Ridge. Leading them was the sect master himself, Li Tiexin."

"Li Tiexin, one of the Four Grandmasters, is personally leading them? Has something major happened at Songfeng Ridge? For Black Wind Fortress, perhaps? But Black Wind Fortress has been silent for ages. Even if they wanted to deal with it, sending a sword elder would suffice—why would Li Tiexin go in person?"

"You haven’t heard? The news has swept the martial world—someone discovered the Crimson Immortal Fruit at Songfeng Ridge!"

"Tsk!"

"Is this true? Is it the legendary spirit fruit that can elevate one to Grandmaster level?"

"It’s no rumor. Not only the Iron Sword Sect, but all four major factions have moved. Even many hidden masters are coming out."

"Why aren’t you going then?"

"Haha, after training for over a decade, I barely reached the third rank. If I went, I’d just be courting death! Better to keep my life and enjoy my wine."

The leader laughed uproariously.

At Old Zhang’s noodle shop, the straw-hatted swordsman had stood to pay and leave, but suddenly paused.

Under Old Zhang’s puzzled gaze, he strode toward the group of martial artists.

"Excuse me, how do I get to Songfeng Ridge?" he asked, blocking their path.

"Songfeng Ridge?"

"Haha, Young Master Liu, did I hear right? This guy’s asking us about Songfeng Ridge—does he think he’ll snatch the Crimson Immortal Fruit too?" someone in the crowd jeered.

The swordsman called Young Master Liu looked up at the straw-hatted man, his lips curling into a smirk. He chuckled softly, then burst into wild laughter.

"You think you’re going to fight for the Crimson Immortal Fruit?" Liu stared at the stranger, his gaze sharp. "I’ll tell you, but you must first best my sword."

In front of his companions, Liu had admitted he wouldn't go to Songfeng Ridge, acknowledging his lack of qualification. Though he spoke mockingly, it didn’t mean he cared little; on the contrary, he cared deeply. The straw-hatted man’s actions felt like a slap in the face, and he was furious.

The stranger’s response was simple. He drew his long blade and set it against Liu’s throat.

In that instant, Liu saw those pitch-black, lifeless eyes hidden beneath the straw hat.

"Go out the city gate and head west..."

The straw-hatted man stared deeply at Liu, then sheathed his blade and turned to leave.

A breeze stirred the empty sleeve of his left arm, making it flutter.

Before the crowd could react, he had vanished into the vast twilight.

...

What happened before Old Zhang’s noodle shop was nothing unusual; scenes like this played out across Lingnan County.

The news of the Crimson Immortal Fruit at Songfeng Ridge spread like wildfire, ever faster, reaching every corner.

Factions large and small, countless martial artists, all converged on Songfeng Ridge for the legendary fruit.

Not only from Lingnan—masters from neighboring counties, upon hearing the news, hurried to join the gathering.

So many experts in one place promised a rare martial assembly.

Among them were famed veterans, reclusive masters, sect leaders, and newcomers eager for glory.

For a month, all kinds of people streamed toward Songfeng Ridge.

When Ning Xiu arrived at Bamboo Grove Society headquarters, Wei Junkun was already prepared, holding the final rally.

Seeing Ning Xiu arrive as promised, Wei Junkun composed himself, cleared his throat with a heavy cough.

"Ahem."

At the sound, the hall fell silent.

Wei Junkun swept his gaze across everyone below, his expression grave. "You all know the Crimson Immortal Fruit appeared on our turf. It’s ours, and no one can take it! If anyone dares touch what’s ours, we’ll make them pay dearly—do you hear me?"

"Yes!"

The crowd responded in unison.

Seeing their fervor, Wei Junkun nodded in satisfaction.

He glanced at Ning Xiu, noting his silence, then shouted, "Let’s move out!"