Chapter 65: The Spirit Fruit Ripens

For three consecutive nights, people disappeared without a trace. As the number of missing grew, fear and panic began to grip the population. What puzzled Ning Xiu and his companions most was: where had these people gone? Even if they were dead, there should at least be bodies to find.

The fear of the unknown is a universal human trait.

So, when night fell once again, torches were lit throughout the mountains, casting everything in a fiery glow. Ning Xiu stood atop a high slope, gazing at the dense crowd below, and a different possibility suddenly occurred to him. Could it be that these missing people had simply left on their own? Otherwise, how could one explain their complete disappearance, leaving neither sign of life nor corpse behind?

Yet if they had simply left Songfeng Ridge, surely someone would have noticed. That still didn’t account for the sudden cries that had been heard. Thinking back carefully to the previous nights, Ning Xiu realized those cries had been peculiarly faint. On the open terrain of Songfeng Ridge, especially in the stillness of night, any sound should have been painfully sharp to the ear.

Something about this made no sense.

Ning Xiu frowned. It was as if some force muffled those cries. He lowered his head, studying the earth beneath his feet, lost in thought.

...

Dawn had not yet broken.

A lone figure flitted through the forests at the outskirts of Songfeng Ridge, glancing about as if searching for something.

That figure was none other than Ning Xiu.

If his suspicions were correct, then Songfeng Ridge hid some secret within, and the exit was likely somewhere in these outer regions, far from the Red Immortal Fruit.

After all, those who had disappeared over the past few nights were all unaffiliated cultivators and members of minor sects.

Songfeng Ridge covered a fair expanse, and most of these unaffiliated cultivators, exhausted from last night's turmoil, were still resting at this hour. Thus, Ning Xiu met almost no one as he made his way forward.

Unconsciously, he found himself at the rear of Songfeng Ridge, the most desolate area, farthest from the Red Immortal Fruit.

He looked up at the cliff before him. If he remembered correctly, the summit was where Heifeng Village once stood. Word had it that not long ago, the entire village was slaughtered.

Naturally, the martial world blamed the Masked Blade for this atrocity.

But Ning Xiu knew in his heart that he was not the culprit. He glanced over, then slowly withdrew his gaze, about to leave when he suddenly turned sharply around.

He stared intently at a lower section of the cliff. Only after a long moment did he notice, beneath the layers of tangled vines, a hidden cave.

Ning Xiu glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Then, with a single bound, he leaped up, grabbing a protruding rock with his right hand to propel himself upward. In just a few breaths, he reached the cave entrance.

He pulled aside the vines and slipped inside.

Turning, he carefully draped the vines back into place to conceal the entrance before surveying his surroundings.

The passage was shrouded in darkness; even with Ning Xiu’s current cultivation, his vision extended less than ten meters. Thankfully, the tunnel was tall enough that he didn’t have to stoop.

From his robe, Ning Xiu produced a fire striker and lit it.

This little fire striker was a prize from one of his ten-draw luck rolls; the system described it as an item once belonging to the legendary “Fragrant Commander” Chu Liuxiang. It was said to burn for a full day and night without going out, which was why Ning Xiu always kept it close.

Though small, the fire striker burned with a powerful light. Truly worthy of being Chu Liuxiang’s exclusive item.

Ning Xiu raised his head, peering into the depths of the cave. A chill draft swept over him. Nevertheless, he pressed on, slowly making his way further inside.

Not long after, a rustling came from the cave entrance.

A hand reached in, parting the vines.

...

Thousands of miles from Songfeng Ridge, by the shore of an unnamed lake, an old man sat atop a boulder, fishing rod in hand.

A middle-aged man stood respectfully behind him.

“Ancestor, do you think we’ll succeed this time?”

“What do you think?” the old man responded with a question of his own.

The middle-aged man looked up at the old man, choosing his words carefully. “I believe we’re halfway there already. The Jia family has taken the bait.”

“Do you fish often?” the old man asked suddenly, without turning around. “Until the instant a fish is pulled from the water, even if it’s already bitten the hook, it could escape at any moment.”

“Because you never know if the creature nibbling at your bait beneath the surface is a gentle carp or a savage shark.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the old man jerked the rod upward. The empty line glittered in the sunlight, glaringly bright.

Songfeng Ridge.

“Still haven’t found Elder Ning?” Wei Junkun frowned deeply as he addressed the disciples of the Bamboo Grove Society below.

With the day of the Red Immortal Fruit’s ripening drawing ever closer, Ning Xiu had vanished without a trace since yesterday, along with Li Tiexin, the Sect Master of Iron Sword Sect.

This was exactly what worried Wei Junkun. He glanced toward the encampment of Iron Sword Sect, his expression growing even more troubled.

On a distant slope, the Red Immortal Fruit swayed in the breeze, a hint of crimson emerging.

All eyes in the mountains were fixed upon that single spirit fruit.

And when the fruit finally ripened, chaos erupted.

“Seize the spirit fruit!”

No one knew who shouted first, but in an instant, several figures shot from the crowd, racing toward the high slope.

In that moment, distinctions between major and minor sects vanished; all hesitation disappeared. Anyone standing in the way was an enemy.

The four great sects, camped closest to the fruit, had the advantage of proximity, but the rest of the martial world was not content to stand by.

Emotions ran high; even the four great sects could not hold the surging tide at bay.

What’s more, the great sects were wary of one another, unable to mount an effective defense.

The fragile web of resistance was quickly torn apart.

More people surged forward, while others hung back, egging the crowd on with shouts:

“Kill them!”

“Snatch the spirit fruit!”

“Don’t let them get away with it, charge!”

These inciting cries whipped the already frenzied mob into greater chaos.

Hidden projectiles and ambushes filled the air. Of the first seven to reach the Red Immortal Fruit, six died instantly—these were all elite members of the four great sects.

The sole survivor, an elder of Iron Sword Sect, was just about to claim the fruit when a stone, hurled through the air, struck him in the chest.

A tremendous force sent him stumbling back, and he tumbled headlong from the slope into the abyss below.

A bloodcurdling scream echoed over Songfeng Ridge.