Chapter 63: Fortune of the Dead

The headquarters of the Bamboo Grove Society were still two or three hundred miles from Pine Wind Ridge. By the time Ning Xiu and his companions arrived, it was already noon. The entire mountain range was dotted with tents of all sizes, and around them stood groups of martial artists in twos and threes. Practically every notable figure of the martial world in Southern Ling had gathered here. It was nothing short of a grand assembly for the martial fraternity.

As the Bamboo Grove Society’s party approached, they immediately drew the attention of many warriors. No matter how much the Bamboo Grove Society had declined, it was still one of the four great sects of Southern Ling.

“Look, those are the people of the Bamboo Grove Society!”

“Strange, why hasn’t Xiao Wanli come in person? Of the four grandmasters, he’s the only one missing.”

“My friend, how long have you been in seclusion? Don’t you know about the recent chaos that shook the entire Southern Ling martial world? There was an internal struggle within the Bamboo Grove Society. Vice Leader Zhou Qun and Leader Xiao Wanli fought each other and both perished. In the end, it was that old fox Wei Junkun who benefited.”

“So it was a case of two rivals fighting and the fisherman profiting? Does that mean Wei Junkun is now the leader of the Bamboo Grove Society?”

“That’s right. The fisherman profits while the clam and the snipe fight. The strongest isn’t always the one who laughs last. The same logic applies to the contention for the Red Immortal Fruit.”

Conversation buzzed all around.

Wei Junkun walked at Ning Xiu’s side, quietly introducing the figures who could threaten their bid for the Red Immortal Fruit. Each of these renowned names was a legend, famous for their prowess and feats.

With so many powerful factions and famed masters involved, the lesser sects could only hope to profit from the chaos, comforting themselves with the old saying about the fisherman benefiting from the clam and snipe’s struggle.

But the truth was, the great sects were neither the clam nor the snipe, and the small fry were certainly not the fisherman.

“Set up camp!” Wei Junkun ordered.

At once, the disciples of the Bamboo Grove Society began setting up tents. The Red Immortal Fruit could ripen at any moment within the month, so they had to be on guard at all times, with someone watching every hour of the day.

Not even a grandmaster could go a month without sleep, food, or drink. This was where the advantage of a large sect became clear. Ning Xiu and the others could focus on conserving their strength and preparing for the final contest, while the rest of the Bamboo Grove Society handled cooking, chores, and sentry duties.

The large tents were soon firmly in place. Aside from the central tent, which was for council meetings, the surrounding tents were for rest and sleep.

This time, Wei Junkun had brought only about a hundred people from headquarters, but every one of them was an elite. Moreover, Pine Wind Ridge lay within the Bamboo Grove Society’s territory; one of their branch lodges was nearby, and Wei Junkun could call for reinforcements at any time.

Everyone camped at a respectful distance from one another, an unspoken agreement. The stronger the faction, the closer it pitched camp to the Red Immortal Fruit; such was the tacit understanding. Naturally, the four great sects claimed the most advantageous positions.

Ning Xiu stood in front of the tent, gazing from afar at the jet-black fruit—the prize everyone sought, the Red Immortal Fruit. He glanced at it, then turned to return to his tent, when something interesting caught his eye.

Or rather, someone interesting.

A young man, with a large burlap sack slung over his shoulders, was roaming the mountain, peering everywhere. He kept his distance and caused no trouble; if he sensed hostility, he would quickly avoid it.

What amused Ning Xiu was the young man’s gaze. It was not the look one gave people, but rather the appraising glance of someone sizing up merchandise.

The young man wandered the perimeter of the mountain, making a circuit. Perhaps tired, he sat down under a large tree, took off his boots, and shook out the dust inside.

A gentle breeze stirred the branches above, dappling the ground with sunlight. Suddenly, the young man grinned.

At that moment, a shadow fell across his face, blotting out his smile. He looked up to see another smiling face.

“Can you tell me why you’re smiling?” Ning Xiu asked.

The young man was startled by Ning Xiu’s sudden greeting. He regarded Ning Xiu for a moment before replying, “You’re from the Bamboo Grove Society—I saw you arrive with them.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Ning Xiu said, glancing at the burlap sack behind the youth. “Everyone else is here to snatch the Red Immortal Fruit. Are you planning to carry it away in that sack?”

The young man shook his head, slipped his boots back on, stood up, and whispered, “I’ll tell you a secret, but don’t tell anyone else.”

“I’m here to make a fortune—off the dead.”

He pointed to his sack. “I’m worried even one sack won’t be enough.”

A fortune off the dead?

Was this youth planning to wait until the martial artists clashed over the Red Immortal Fruit, then scavenge the bodies for loot?

Was it naivete, or folly? Or perhaps a cunning mind at work, with deeper motives?

Most of those vying for the Red Immortal Fruit belonged to major sects. Take the Bamboo Grove Society: if one of their own fell in battle, his brothers would see to his remains. They would never let an outsider claim the corpse. And even if an unaffiliated cultivator was killed, his body would become a spoil of war for the victors, leaving no room for this young man.

Of course, there were always exceptions. In the chaos of a true melee, perhaps such an opportunity would arise. Many present harbored the same hope. But to parade around so brazenly with a giant burlap sack—what was he thinking? Did he want everyone to know his intentions?

Ning Xiu fixed his gaze on the youth, studying the earnest look in his eyes—there was no sign of deceit.

This young man truly, naively believed he could amass a fortune from the dead in the coming conflict.

“I hope your wish is granted,” Ning Xiu said, then turned and left.

The young man watched him go, muttering under his breath, “That strange weapon of his is interesting. I’d better remember to save a spot for it in the sack…”

After leaving the odd youth, Ning Xiu did not immediately return to camp. Instead, he walked a circuit of the mountain.

He found that the assembly truly was a gathering of the elite. Besides the three other grandmasters, there were several figures worth noting, including the one-armed swordsman who had appeared in Lingnan County’s capital.

Back when his Nine Yang Divine Art was not yet perfected, Ning Xiu had already slain Xiao Wanli. Although Xiao Wanli had been the weakest of the “Sword, Spear, Saber, Halberd”—the four grandmasters—Ning Xiu was now a master of the Nine Yang Divine Art, confident he could defeat any grandmaster.

Even so, to seize the Red Immortal Fruit from so many masters would still be a daunting challenge.