Chapter 35: A Twist of Fate

Following the directions given by Old Zhang, Ning Xiu walked along the deserted main street until he reached the outskirts of the town.

He stopped before a gloomy building, looking up to see the signboard inscribed with the words "Charity Manor."

Charity Manors could be found almost everywhere. When a local died, their family would naturally take care of the arrangements. But every place always had a few wandering souls from foreign lands—strangers who died far from home, friendless and forsaken, with no one to tend to their remains. The Charity Manor was their final stop, a resting place in hopes that, one day, their kin might come searching, take their bones, and return them to their native soil for burial.

Although most of these forlorn travelers never saw their loved ones arrive, at least a sliver of hope remained. It was this act of kindness that gave the Charity Manor its name.

Each Charity Manor had a so-called corpse-keeper, but according to Old Zhang, the keeper of this manor outside Shanquan Town had died two years ago, and since then, no one had been willing to take up the post.

No wonder the place was now overgrown with wild grass.

Ning Xiu frowned. The manor before him had clearly been abandoned for a long time—even several of the walls had collapsed, and everywhere bore the marks of dereliction and decay.

At the entrance to the manor, Ning Xiu did not rush inside. Knowing that his adversary could very well be a vengeful ghost or a corpse puppet, he dared not be careless. He gripped his tempered steel saber tightly, making sure he was fully prepared before cautiously stepping over the threshold and entering the manor.

Dozens of coffins lay within, all terribly old, and the floor was strewn with paper money. A cold wind blew through, sending the paper offerings fluttering, while the tattered curtains swayed like ethereal specters—the scene was unspeakably eerie.

And this was during broad daylight; at night, it would likely frighten an ordinary person into unconsciousness.

This made Ning Xiu doubt whether the ghostly wails Old Zhang’s acquaintance had heard were not simply a trick of his own mind. In moments of extreme tension and fear, such illusions were certainly possible.

But such paltry scenes were nothing to a man who had fought his way through mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

Ning Xiu surveyed the main hall but found nothing amiss. He even opened several of the coffins, yet uncovered nothing.

Frowning, he withdrew.

Could it really have been the man’s imagination? Was there truly nothing wrong with this Charity Manor?

As he pondered this, he looked up and noticed a courtyard. That must have been the residence of the corpse-keeper.

Ning Xiu tightened his grip on his saber and walked over with the utmost caution.

The gate to the courtyard was ajar and swung open with a gentle push.

The moment he entered the courtyard, Ning Xiu immediately sensed something was off.

A faint scent of blood lingered in the air. According to Old Zhang, no one had lived here for two years, so how could there be a trace of blood?

His expression grew tense. Silently, he crept to the side of the house and peered through a window.

The furniture inside, which should have been caked in dust, showed no signs of neglect. Ning Xiu even spotted live coals glowing beneath the stove.

All of this pointed to a single truth: someone had been living here recently.

But now, that person was nowhere to be seen.

Ning Xiu decided to hide in the shadows, lying in wait for his quarry.

Given the current circumstances, it seemed likely that this incident was not the work of supernatural forces, but of human malice.

...

Dusk gradually fell, the sun’s golden rays sinking like a slow stream, washing over the courtyard as night finally descended.

Hidden in the darkness, Ning Xiu resembled a patient and focused hunter.

A faint rustling sounded...

"Footsteps," Ning Xiu whispered, his ears pricking at the sound.

From the pattern of the steps, it seemed the newcomer was carrying a heavy load.

Ning Xiu peered in the direction of the noise and, sure enough, saw a figure approaching the courtyard, bearing something over his shoulder.

Step by step, the man drew nearer.

When the figure reached the courtyard, Ning Xiu could finally make out his features—a middle-aged man.

The burden on his shoulder was a young man, robust and strong.

Ning Xiu sensed the vitality still present in the youth; he was clearly alive.

Just as the middle-aged man reached for the door, he suddenly paused, eyeing it as if he had noticed something unusual.

Seeing this, Ning Xiu cursed inwardly. The man must have realized someone else had been here.

He was just about to make his move when the middle-aged man reacted even faster, hefting the youth and hurling him towards Ning Xiu’s hiding place, before turning to flee without the slightest hesitation.

Now that his presence was exposed, there was no point in hiding further. Ning Xiu shot out from the shadows, lightly tapping the youth aside with the flat of his saber, then sprang forward in pursuit.

The man did not attempt to flee into the distance, but darted into the Charity Manor instead.

But when Ning Xiu rushed in after him, the man had already vanished without a trace.

Tonight, the sky was devoid of moonlight.

The manor was shrouded in gloom, with only the chill wind howling through its halls.

...

Elsewhere, when Yan Song and his companions arrived at the Fengshui Stream, they discovered that not only had members of their Bamboo Grove Society died, but two deacons of the Ancient Sword Sect had also perished under mysterious circumstances.

Both sides blamed each other, leading to a violent clash during the day in which many disciples from either faction lost their lives.

Only when night fell did the conflict subside.

Killing, arson, and turf wars—these were the usual business of a proper gang; dealing with supernatural calamities was far from their norm.

Though these activities were not without risk, at least their foes were human, not those strange and unnatural monsters.

Fengshui Stream was split down the middle: to the left, Jade Phoenix Town under the Bamboo Grove Society’s control, and to the right, Ancient Phoenix Town under the Ancient Sword Sect’s domain.

After a day of fighting, Guo Xiaofeng dragged his weary body back to Jade Phoenix Town from Fengshui Stream.

He had slain many enemies by day and even earned praise from Yan Song.

More importantly, he had accrued a considerable amount of merit, which he could later exchange at headquarters for the martial arts and elixirs he needed.

As Guo Xiaofeng considered this, another figure floated into his mind—Ning Xiu.

He had doted on his younger sister since childhood, and what had happened during the competition that day had left him holding a grudge against Ning Xiu. At the thought, he ground his teeth in frustration.

“By now, he’s probably already dead from the Black Calamity...” Guo Xiaofeng muttered.

Just then, a sudden night breeze arose, and he shivered involuntarily, a chill seeping into his bones.

"Why has it gotten so cold all of a sudden?" Guo Xiaofeng glanced up at the night sky. By rights, with his internal energy cultivation, he shouldn’t be bothered by such a chill.

What was wrong today? Perhaps he had simply overexerted himself during the day.

That was the only explanation he could think of. With that, Guo Xiaofeng quickened his pace.