Chapter 64: The Profound Night

Because no one knew when the Crimson Immortal Fruit would ripen, everyone present was outwardly relaxed yet inwardly tense.

“Elder Ning, the Crimson Immortal Fruit is not so easily ripened. There’s no need for us to be impatient,” Wei Junkun said, glancing at Ning Xiu as he returned from outside. “Let’s have some food first.”

It was dinner time, and Ning Xiu nodded in agreement.

In the camp, a sumptuous meal had already been prepared. All the ingredients, as well as tables and chairs, had been delivered that afternoon by the local branch of the Bamboo Grove Society, taking advantage of their proximity.

There was not only good food, but also fine wine!

Ning Xiu picked up a wine jug, took a sip, and cast a sidelong glance at the other martial artists encamped in the distance, chuckling softly. “It’s just as well that Elder Wei is so thoughtful.”

The major sects fared somewhat better—though they could not compare to the Bamboo Grove Society, at least they were not reduced to eating in the wind and sleeping in the open. Those lone wanderers and minor sects, however, looked rather pitiful; most gnawed on cold buns and drank plain water, while the luckier ones had some dried meat or roasted wild game.

No wonder, then, that so many cast envious, longing glances toward the Bamboo Grove Society’s camp.

After the meal, under Wei Junkun’s command, the elite members of the Bamboo Grove Society split into two groups: one retired to the tents to rest, while the other remained outside, keeping torches burning and a vigilant eye on the Crimson Immortal Fruit as well as the movements of the others.

Ning Xiu showed no sign of sleepiness. The events of the day seemed too strange for comfort, and the words spoken by that young man lingered in his mind, leaving him vaguely uneasy.

Just then, a sudden cry rang out from beyond the tents.

But by the time Ning Xiu rushed outside, the sound had abruptly ceased.

Night pressed in—deep and silent. Everything returned to stillness.

At the same time, Ning Xiu sensed several other presences, similarly drawn by the cry. They exchanged distant glances, then each returned to their own tents.

...

That night, many would find sleep elusive.

Yet most people, unaware of the lurking danger beneath the darkness, behaved as usual. To them, only the Crimson Immortal Fruit mattered; upon waking, their first thought was to check on its condition.

Had its color deepened?

They wondered in uncertainty.

Sometimes, fearlessness does not arise from courage but from ignorance; thus, they knew nothing of fear.

Ning Xiu and Wei Junkun exchanged a glance, and Wei Junkun gave a subtle nod.

“No one from the Bamboo Grove Society went missing last night,” Wei Junkun murmured.

The same scene played out among the other three major sects and several powerful factions.

Standing atop a high slope, Ning Xiu surveyed the crowd below. There was no sign of commotion, which meant that the missing person was likely an unaffiliated wanderer, someone who had come alone and was unknown to anyone here.

Frowning, Ning Xiu suddenly formed a suspicion.

Perhaps this was the very purpose of the one who had spread news of the Crimson Immortal Fruit.

A figure flashed through Ning Xiu’s mind. His eyes swept the crowd, searching again and again, but he could not find the boy’s silhouette.

Nowhere. Nowhere. Still nowhere!

Where could he have gone?

Ning Xiu’s frown deepened. At that moment, a low, heavy voice sounded behind him.

“You are Ning Xiu?”

Turning, Ning Xiu saw a middle-aged man standing behind him, clad in a dark robe, his gaze as sharp as a sword.

Ning Xiu recognized him—the master of the Iron Sword Sect, Li Tiexin.

“What brings you to seek me out, Master Li?” Ning Xiu asked.

“Did Song Gaoju come looking for you?”

“Song Gaoju?” Ning Xiu feigned perplexity, as if he had never heard of the man.

Li Tiexin stared hard into Ning Xiu’s eyes, trying to read something within. After a moment, he spoke. “You heard the scream last night too.”

As he spoke, Li Tiexin’s hand gripped the hilt of his iron sword at his waist.

Ning Xiu nodded faintly, his smile fading. “Since you heard it as well, Master Li, you must realize this is no simple matter.”

With those words, Ning Xiu turned and walked away.

Li Tiexin watched him go, his expression shifting uncertainly. Yet his sword remained sheathed.

In the past, Xiao Wanli, seeking to kill by another’s hand, had secretly informed the Iron Sword Sect that Ning Xiu was the murderer of their young master, and he had also revealed Ning Xiu’s whereabouts.

However, when the Iron Sword Sect announced Li Tianlong’s death, they withheld certain details, leading Xiao Wanli to a false conclusion.

The reason the Iron Sword Sect suspected Ning Xiu was because he was known as a skilled swordsman. Even so, their suspicion was limited; they were more interested in the motive behind the message. Nevertheless, Song Gaoju decided to investigate.

Li Tiexin could never have expected that Song Gaoju would disappear without a trace.

As the Iron Sword Sect’s second-in-command, Song Gaoju was at the peak of the First Grade realm—a force not easily dealt with. And the old fox Wei Junkun had no intention of revealing the truth about Xiao Wanli’s death, so the world believed Xiao Wanli had died by his hand.

This, in turn, led Li Tiexin to misjudge the situation.

From his perspective, none of this could possibly be connected to Ning Xiu, who, according to his information, was merely a Second Grade martial artist. Most likely, Wei Junkun was behind Song Gaoju’s disappearance.

Not until last night, when he and Ning Xiu exchanged glances in the darkness, did the name “Ning Xiu” resurface in his mind.

Yet in the end, he still chose not to act.

After parting ways with Li Tiexin, Ning Xiu searched the mountains, but the boy from the day before was nowhere to be found.

Could it have been he who cried out last night?

Troubled by this question, Ning Xiu awaited the coming of night.

This time, many were prepared.

Yet when the cry sounded again, no one was able to respond in time.

Two cries—weak and urgent—barely audible to the most attentive ears.

“So someone really is up to something!” Wei Junkun entered Ning Xiu’s tent and found him wide awake, as expected.

“What we must determine now,” Ning Xiu said, looking up at Wei Junkun, his voice slow and steady, “is whether it is someone causing mischief, or something not quite human at all.”

To pull off such deeds under the noses of so many experts, night after night, whether human or not, the culprit’s power was truly formidable. And one thing still eluded Ning Xiu—what, exactly, was the motive behind it all?