Chapter Eight: Gatherings of All Parties

"Greetings, Hero of the River!"
"Ah, the Peerless Duo! It is an honor to finally meet you!"
"Senior Elder Chu, it has been a long time. You are still looking robust as ever!"
"Brother Huang, many years have passed, yet your elegance remains unchanged!"

A crowd of pugilists from the jianghu were exchanging warm pleasantries, creating a lively and bustling scene. However, these individuals were merely at the very bottom of the jianghu hierarchy. Most of them were third-rate figures holding no real weight or influence.

Those of genuine stature and significance were currently facing a rather grim situation. Whether belonging to the righteous orthodox martial arts factions or the untamed forces of the underworld and green forests, everyone had suffered attacks this time, with many enduring heavy losses. Some factions had even been completely wiped out, leaving them unable to attend at all.

Only these low-level practitioners, lacking any real influence and merely coming to gawk at the excitement, were left undisturbed by anyone.

Such was the bustling atmosphere when Murong Xun and his group arrived. Having no interest in socializing with them, they sought out a quiet spot of their own to set up camp first. Since there was still some time before the opening of the martial arts convention, camping out in the open indefinitely was out of the question, making the construction of tents an absolute necessity.

Fortunately, they did not need to lift a finger for such chores. The Raging Dragon Gang was, after all, a world-renowned major faction with branch offices everywhere. Even though Mount Yandang sat on the borderlands, the city of Yandang still housed their members, and they simply needed to delegate the preparations.

During the days spent waiting for the others to arrive, Murong Xun remained confined to his tent without stepping outside. Given his sensitive status, stepping out would only invite a troublesome stream of visitors. Refusing them would be impolite, yet seeing them all was impossible, so isolating himself and seeing no one proved to be the wisest course of action. Besides, his own temperament naturally inclined him against such hollow social rituals.

Thus, seven or eight days slipped by until the day of the martial arts convention finally drew near.

"Young Commander, Master Puzhi of Shaolin invites you over for a meeting."

Just as Murong Xun was in the middle of his cultivation, Zhao Ze’s voice echoed from outside the tent.

"Understood!"

Murong Xun replied, picked up the Shadow of Slaughter resting nearby, and stepped out. Ever since entering this world, he had never once used his personal inventory space, keeping his blade close at hand at all times. He was doing his utmost to conceal his identity as a player, ensuring the native inhabitants remained entirely oblivious.

Pulling aside the tent flap and stepping out, he immediately spotted Zhao Ze standing guard in a respectful posture.

"Let's go!"

Murong Xun said indifferently, following the guide's lead toward the Shaolin encampment.

This world possessed its own Shaolin, standing as a towering pillar of the orthodox martial arts realm. Naturally, with Shaolin present, its eternal counterpart Wudang could not be absent. For the longest time, these two sects had jointly held the reins of righteousness in the martial arts world. However, ever since Wudang announced its closure to the world for a hundred years five decades ago, no disciples of Wudang had been seen wandering the jianghu. Only after that did Tiannv Peak gradually replace Wudang's standing, emerging as the new leader of the righteous factions.

By the time Murong Xun and his companion arrived, the massive tent was already packed tightly with seated figures. Among them, Qin Suyao was conspicuously present.

"This must be the disciple of Benefactor Qiu En. Truly a hero among youths! Old monk Puzhi greets the young hero."

Seated at the head of the assembly, an elderly monk with benevolent eyebrows caught sight of Murong Xun entering. He rose, pressed his palms together, and offered a greeting.

"Greetings, Master Puzhi."

Murong Xun returned the salute with a demeanor that was neither servile nor overbearing. Regardless of the old monk's seniority or status in the jianghu, bowing to him was by no means a loss.

"Young Commander, I am Qu Qi of the Yellow River Gang!"
"Greetings, Young Commander. I am Han Baitong of the Heavenly Heart Cave!"
……

Following Puzhi's lead, a group of people quickly stood up to introduce themselves to Murong Xun. These were all figures from the underworld and the green forests, forming part of Murong Xun's faction. On this occasion, Murong Xun served as their leader, so stepping up to greet him was only proper etiquette. Regardless of whether they truly accepted him stepping into Qiu En's shoes, the fact that he stood here meant he represented Qiu En and the entire underworld. Reason and duty alike dictated that they needed to put up a strong front for him.

Murong Xun returned the greetings to each of them one by one, familiarizing himself with their faces. Earlier, Zhao Ze had briefed him on several figures, but those had only been general descriptions. They could hardly compare to standing face-to-face, allowing him to clearly perceive what kind of people they truly were.

Apart from these underworld figures, representatives from the various righteous orthodox sects also rose one after another to introduce themselves. Murong Xun's status was exceptional; standing behind him was the undisputed sovereign of all underworld factions. If Qiu En were to raise his arms in a rallying cry, he could summon hundreds of thousands of underworld followers at a moment's notice—a terrifying level of influence.

After a brief session of mutual introductions, Master Puzhi wore a rather grim expression as he officially declared the commencement of this martial arts gathering. Of course, this initial meeting merely served as a gathering of the leaders, while the true martial arts convention would not commence until three days later.

"Summoning everyone here today is truly a matter of absolute necessity!"

Reluctant though he was, Puzhi had no choice but to lay the facts bare.

"I believe my fellow martial arts brothers are well aware that the grand scale of this convention provoked a fierce backlash from the northern grassland tribes, resulting in the tragic deaths of many comrades."

Upon hearing this, the crowd did not display any dramatic reactions, as they had long caught wind of these developments and anticipated such a turn of events.

"The Netherworld Valley, the Medicine King Sect, the Seven Mysteries Sect, the River Sword Sect... all of these allied factions have been completely annihilated, with not a single survivor!"

Puzhi produced a name list and read aloud from it. With every single name he uttered, the expressions of those present grew darker. While the strength of these sects was not paramount, it was certainly not weak either; each had previously been led by at least one Xiantian expert, forming a formidable collective force when united. Yet now, having been picked off and destroyed one by one, their strength was utterly spent.

Although they were not the absolute peak powers, the jianghu relied on these numerous mid-sized sects to sustain its foundation. Now that so many mid-level backbones had been lost in a single stroke, their respective sects would inevitably plunge into irreversible decline.

"This is an unprecedented catastrophe for our martial arts world!" Puzhi sighed.

With the destruction of twenty or thirty sects' delegations, and over fifty Xiantian experts confirmed dead, these individuals had originally constituted the backbone of their resistance against the grassland forces. Yet now, they had perished in such an obscure and baffling manner.

"If you ask me, the venue of the convention should never have been set in Mount Yandang. Dragging everyone all the way out here is precisely why we were picked off individually along the roads."

Someone muttered with evident dissatisfaction.

"Speaking of which, Master Puzhi, does anyone know why the convention site was chosen at Mount Yandang in the first place?" Qin Suyao asked with a puzzled expression.

"Was this not proposed by your esteemed master when he sent a carrier pigeon message to my senior brother?" Master Puzhi asked, looking utterly bewildered by Qin Suyao's question.

"My master has never sent a carrier pigeon message to Master Puxin, nor would he ever propose coming to Mount Yandang. In fact, my master only learned that the convention would take place at Mount Yandang after receiving a message from Jiang Yi, the Invincible Iron Fist of Jiangnan."

Hearing Master Puzhi's words, Qin Suyao was equally struck dumb with astonishment.

"My master learned that the convention was set at Mount Yandang only after receiving a message from Master Puxin."

Seeing both of their gazes turn toward him, Murong Xun spoke truthfully.

"Strange indeed!"

Puzhi stroked his bald pate, his expression deeply troubled.

"I received a message from the Supreme Chief informing me that the convention would be held at Mount Yandang."
"I received a message stating..."

Those around them chimed in one after another. A creeping sense of wrongness had already taken hold of them; the messages received by various groups differed in origin, yet every single one shared a single identical detail—the location was Mount Yandang.

"It would seem someone deliberately lured us all to Mount Yandang!" Qin Suyao sighed.

"I found it strange earlier why the news of the martial arts convention was so widely circulated, practically becoming common knowledge. Thinking back on it now, malicious actors deliberately spread the news to ensure everyone knew. They intentionally fed false information to figures of high moral standing and prestige. Because of the great distances involved, these seniors harbored no suspicions, assuming other factions had already discussed and agreed upon it, completely unaware that the news was fabricated."

"They then continued spreading the message to other influential figures, leading everyone to place absolute trust in it. By the time the news became widespread, no one suspected anything amiss, merely assuming the matter was of grave importance, which explained why almost everyone was aware of it."

Qin Suyao's analysis met with no dissent; the others found themselves largely in agreement. All current signs pointed precisely to this conclusion.

"Amitabha!" Puzhi chanted a Buddhist invocation.

"The perpetrators have planned this meticulously, clearly harboring long-laid preparations. Their entire purpose was to lure us here so they could catch us while our forces were scattered and eliminate us one by one!"

"What should we do now then?" someone asked, anxiety creeping into their voice.

"Perhaps we should leave this place first. Once we return within the border passes, we can deliberate on a long-term plan."

"No!" Murong Xun flatly rejected the notion.

"If we scatter at a time like this, we will only march to our deaths even faster. The recent ambushes we suffered serve as a vivid cautionary tale."

Of course, Murong Xun cared very little about the lives of others, but since this concerned his main quest, how could he simply give up? Moreover, splitting up under these circumstances was indeed exceedingly dangerous. The enemy was currently lurking in the shadows, watching their every move. If they dared to disperse, there was no doubt the enemy would strike them down without hesitation.

"The Young Commander's words make complete sense!"

The others readily concurred with Murong Xun's assessment. They had already been ambushed on their way here; if they separated on their way back, survival would be a statistical impossibility.

"But if we do not return, what can we possibly accomplish staying here?"

Another voice raised a dissenting opinion.

"Why don't all of us travel back together through the passes? Even if the enemy wishes to attack us then, they will have to think twice and weigh the risks."

"Unwise!" Puzhi shook his head directly.

"With so many sects among our ranks and the quality of personnel varying wildly, gathering together in such massive numbers will simply present the enemy with a prime opportunity to strike. This course of action is truly inadvisable."

There was one more sentence he left unsaid, but none of those present were fools; they grasped his underlying meaning instantly.

What they feared most was the possibility of enemy agents from the grassland tribes hiding within their own ranks. If everyone attempted to return as a massive collective, these hidden saboteurs could launch surprise attacks from within to create chaos, while the main enemy forces struck from the outside. The resulting catastrophe would be too horrific to contemplate.